31 Reasons

It's Mother's Day. It's time to celebrate your mom, to pamper her and indulge her and let her know how much she means to you, and how blessed you are to have been raised by her.


Except I don't have a mom anymore. At least, not in physical form.

I hate this freaking holiday. It takes on a totally different meaning when your mom is gone. Instead of shopping for that perfect gift, I watch commercials telling me what to get the woman who raised me, the woman who was my best friend in the world...and I cry. Instead of planning brunch or dinner or figuring out who's going to be where, I stare at her picture and wish she was still here.

Yep, Mother's Day without a mother simply blows.

*Sidenote: FTD, I hope you die. I'm pretty sure my mother doesn't want flowers today, and I'm VERY sure that she's not sending me emails letting me know that...so enough with the emails from "mom" detailing "Here's what I want for Mother's Day!" Seriously. I hate you.

I'm in a funk and I'm not so good at hiding it. My friend Erin realized this (because I posted it on facebook) and suggested I write 31 reasons why I love(d) my mom. 31, because that's how old I am, and reasons because it might heal my heart a bit. It's been a year and it still hurts every bit as much as it did the day I found out, so hey, it can't hurt, right?

31 REASONS I LOVE(D) MY MOM:
1. She was the funniest person I've ever met in my life.
2. She would spend hours preparing a meal because she loved to cook. Totally didn't rub off on me.
3. She had little chicken legs, just like me.
4. When I was older and married and would get migraines, she would drive from Long Beach to Orange to bring me medicine, at the drop of a hat.
5. She was there when both my boys were born.
6. She loved my kids more than she loved me, and appreciated each of them for their (very different) spirits.
7. She sacrificed so her children would be taken care of.
8. She worked her whole life, from 15 years old to when she died at 54, even when she was so sick she couldn't keep her eyes open.
9. She managed to take care of me and my brother even after she was gone.
10. She survived things most people can't and shouldn't.
11. She left my dad when she realized he was bad for us. I was only 2 years old.
12. She was the Medicine Queen. Seriously. Need some Vicodin, Xanax or Midrin? Give her a ring.
13. She was strict. And I was scared of her, until the day she died.
14. She was an old school parent. She wasn't my friend, she was my mother. I didn't argue, I didn't say no, and when I was grounded, my ass was in my room for two weeks.
15. I look very much like her. And so does The Dictator.
16. She made me be a parent when I had The Hormone King at 20 years old, instead of raising him while I went off and partied. I hated her for it then, but loved her for it later.
17. She was the most sarcastic person I've ever known.
18. She wanted to be a better parent than her mother had been. And she was.
19. She loved to watch TLC.
20. She talked to me recently in a dream. She still cares. :)
21. She was one of the most intelligent people I've ever met.
22. She told me she was proud of me before she died.
23. She was very generous, and would give anything she had to someone she loved.
24. She used to say "Happy Natal Day" instead of "Happy Birthday".
25. She taught me to smile instead of cry.
26. I could forge her signature perfectly. She found out and didn't care.
27. She kept every single lame, ugly "thing" her grandchildren gave her. And trust me, some of them were very lame and very ugly.
28. She used to play music throughout the house on the weekends. I grew up listening to The Steve Miller Band, The Beatles and Fleetwood Mac blaring at full volume.
29. She never let me off the hook. She made me own my shit.
30. She was the mentally strongest woman I've ever known.
31. She was my best friend.

Happy Mother's Day, mom. I miss you.

Today sucks big donkey balls

Today sucks big donkey balls.

Hubs called me this morning to tell me that he got laid off. No notice, no warning...just take your check and hit the road. Oh, and we'll be by on Saturday to get the piece of shit work truck that's been monopolizing your driveway for three years.

We're broke with him working. Can you imagine what it's going to be like with no work? Uggs. And to make this super sunshiney day even grander, there are 270 people on the books before him at the union hall. The economy kicks ass.

Pray for me, folks. Or cross your fingers for me. Hell, I don't care what you do. Light some incense, rub a Buddha belly, chant in tongues...just do it. Quickly.

We're dog paddling now...drowning soon.

Let's talk Twilight

So I read the Twilight series. I didn't want to, because, hello, I am WAY too cool and mature to read vampire books and buy into the whole "you complete me" bullshit romance genre. I'm married, remember? I know that real life consists of cleaning up piss on the bathroom floor, asking for a courtesy flush and fighting the urge to stab your husband as he snores on the sofa while you're trying to get two crabby kids ready for bed.

But, under much diress and with much prodding, I read it.

Fine. I'm lying. I asked Salley if I could borrow the stupid first book. Actually, I begged.

And OH MY GOD, I loved it. LOOOOOOOVED it.

I don't know why, but it hit some long-dead romantic, vulnerable nerve in my body. All of a sudden, I actually wanted to spend time with my husband. Like, alone. Sans kids. Weird, right?

Unfortunately, there have also been some negative side effects of stepping into the (sigh) Cullen world. For example:

- I'm madly in love with a fictional teenage vampire who was really born in 1901.

- I'm madly in love with the actor who plays said fictional teenage vampire in a movie, but only if he's wearing full vampire attire & makeup.

- I've watched the DVD about 23 times and have a tendency to pause every single frame said actor is in.

- I hate the whiny human teenage girl he's in love with. Bitch.

- I find myself suddenly doodling crap like this all over the place.


- I'm pretty sure my kids didn't bathe or brush their teeth for three days. Mom was in a Cullen coma on the sofa.

- I have totally unrealistic expectations of men now. Instead of hearing things like, "You are my life now", I hear things like "You didn't wash my underwear?" and it PISSES. ME. OFF. Seriously...Edward would die for Bella and I have to promise sexual favors to get the living room vacuumed. How is this fair?

And, on top of all this, I've finished the damn series. What the hell am I going to do now? I have no reason to function. The sun is no longer shining when I get out of bed every day. I've resorted to Googling random shit in my spare time, in hopes of forgetting the Cullens and the love affair we once had.

Damn.

Twilight has seriously jacked me up.

What am I going to do now? Go back to reality, you say? Nay, good sirs, nay.

Somebody find me a new series to obsess over, pronto. This "real life" shit sucks ass.
Freaking Edward.

Happy Easter, mom

Happy Easter, mom. I miss you.

This child is not mine

Sometimes, I truly wonder if The Dictator is genetically mine.

I mean, sure, he looks exactly like me...well, a smaller, blonder, penis-carrying version of me, but still...we're pretty damn close.

I see him every day and I feel 100% sure that he's my child.

Most of the time.

Then, there's other times...like tonight, when I walked in the living room and saw this:

Can't tell what he's eating? Here's a bigger picture for you:

DO YOU SEE THOSE? Those horrid, green, foul-smelling farm belongings on my coffee table? Those are snap peas.

Snap peas.

BLEEEEEEEEEEEECH.

And my offspring is eating them. Not sweetened, not cooked, not rolled in powdered sugar and deep fried...raw. He's eating them raw.

Obviously, there was a mix-up in the uterus.

Dear IRS

Dear IRS,

Blow me.

Wishing you a lengthy and painful death,
Shannon H.

I should start saving

The Hormone King is a tattletale. A massive, hyper-sensitive, over-reacting, sissyboy tattletale.

In his defense, The Dictator is the master of all instigators, so it's usually justified. But since I can only hear so much whining and complaining before I pack up my shit and get the hell out of Dodge, the new rule is this:

If I don't see blood or bones, deal with it.

Magnificent parenting, I know.

So tonight, this was overheard in my house as I was ignoring my offspring and tending to Facebook:

HK: Moooooom, Owen just said boobies are awesome!

D: *giggle*

*sigh*

You know what's more expensive than counseling? Bail.

I'm so not cut out for this parenting thing.

The Hormone King's on a mission

The Hormone King wants a cell phone. In fact, he wants a cell phone so bad that he gave all his friends (and a few little 5th grade floozies) my cell phone number so that none of them would know he's the poor trashy boy at the expensive private school with (gasp!) no cell phone.

This means that I get 46 texts a day that look a little something like this:

"do u know who likes u lol? dont tell ne1 i told you, k? g2g lol"

What the hell kind of freaking language is that, anyway? Sorry kiddos, I don't speak textese, and shouldn't you be out playing Barbies or braiding each others' hair? For the love of God, you're in 5th grade, stop trying to whore yourself out to my son.

So anyway...

Despite the fact that he's 10 1/2 years old, and that we've never dropped him off and not come back for him, and that he has never in his life walked anywhere by himself, much less the 3 miles to school...The Hormone King is on a mission to earn his much-needed cell phone by proving himself responsible.

When I got home from a baseball meeting tonight, everyone was in bed and this was the note I found on his dresser:

Can't read it? Here's what it says, verbatim:

"Mom I packed my homework so don't get scared if you can't find my homework. I'm taking responsibility so I can get that phone I really want. P.S. It's only $10!!! Got my assingment book signed, and put my close away and got new close out, and after practice I will pick up poop even if it goes to dark. If I don't pick it up, then ground me. And I picked up my room. Sorry for argueing with you about the phone. P.S.J.R. You are the best mom. Thanks for looking after me!!!" (and a picture of a stick figure with snot coming out of his nose, and a note that says 'snot.')

To clarify, the poop he's speaking of is canine, not human. Although human would make for a much more interesting evening.

Sometimes, all it takes is a misspelled word on wide-ruled paper from The Hormone King to make my day. And if said note just happens to also contain an illustration of snot...well, shit, that just about makes my whole week.

Dear Captain Bad Gift Giver With Really Good Intentions

Dear Captain Bad Gift Giver With Really Good Intentions,


The Dictator obviously knows much more about how amazing tractor clocks can be than I do.

I stand corrected.

Sincerely,
The proud owner of 2 boys, 4,328,032 outdated toys and one truly magnificent John Deer tractor clock




Naked football

So I'm sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner with my family and bonding right now.

Not really.

I'm sitting at the kitchen table stalking people on Facebook.

Same thing, right?

Anyway, this is what I just heard from the playroom:

HK: Let's play naked football.

D: How do you play?

HK: You have to touch me in my end zone.

*cut to me laughing hysterically*

I really should not be allowed to raise children.