What's been going on with Shannon lately?  Let's do a bulleted edition shall we? The last bullet is for sure worth reading the others for.  I promise.

*Just right now the office cat jumped on my desk.  He's covered in fleas.  Why is he covered in fleas?  Because he won't stop killing wild bunny rabbits.  We treated him for fleas but he still has them. I CANNOT STOP ITCHING.

* I have no Nutella right now.  The future seems dim when there is no Nutella involved.

* This morning I lost my eye glasses for three hours.  I found them in the bag that stores the breast pump.  Someone please tell me how in the hell my glasses got in the boobie bag?

* As far as injuries go I went ahead and burned my arm on the office fire place the other day. But just for fun while showering I went ahead and loofahed the burn mark and twenty minutes later looked down and saw that I had blood streaming down my arm and all over the place.  Five days later and my arm is still all nasty and bloody.  I'm still waiting on the bubblewrapped room.

* We won't even discuss what Coffee Slut mailed me. I will tell you she said it would last till Easter and right now it's not looking good.

* When my dog died I had a bottle of delicious bottle of Sweet Riesling in my house.  I drank the whole bottle while wandering up and down my street looking for my cats and lamenting on and on about my dead dog.  I never remember the name of this wine though, which is why I often tell people I'm going home to have a glass of, "dead dog wine."  I am convinced there are about 20 people in Reno who think there is a real wine out there with the label DEAD DOG WINE. 

* No other wine tastes as good as my dead dog wine and when you're having a really bad day and want a glass of wine Chardonnay just doesn't do the same thing as a Sweet Riesling.

* My son has been off track for three weeks now.  That means he's been at work with me for three weeks. I'm going totally insane.  INSANE.  

* The puppy is going to kill me dead.  He is the biggest menace ever.  Seriously someone please reassure me that this will get better, that he will stop digging in 4 feet of mud and then spinning circles on my favorite chair, the coffee table and the computer.  Tell me he will stop biting people and jumping on people and peeing and for the love of God please tell me he will stop eating every piece of tissue out of every trash in my house.

*I'm still freaked out and itching over the fleas.

* Codi ate 9 whole macaroni noodles last night.  For the first time EVER in four years.  He ate them without gagging or proclaiming that the macaroni will kill him on the spot and that it's burning his mouth alive from cheesy goodness.  He flat out refused to try the spaghetti noodle though.  Because OMGITHASSAUCEANDSAUCEISTHEDEVIL.

* I've been going rounds with all things electrical at work lately.  I'm at the point where if one more electronic breaks I'm going to go all Office Space on it, turn on "Damn it Feels Good to be a Gangsta," and kill it with a baseball bat.

* Last week my son had a little friend come over.  They were playing outside.  I should have known better then to let three boys play outside. But I didn't.  So imagine my surprise when I walked outside, next to my kids playhouse and saw a GIANT HUMAN SHIT.  Yes, this little boy had shit in my yard.  A big shit.  Like eight inches long.  HE SHIT IN MY YARD.  I didn't even know what to do.  He tried to blame it on my puppy.  The puppy that was locked inside the house with me.  So if you want an indication of my week, there it is, someone elses son shit on the patio of my kids playhouse. That right there will tell you everything you need to know about my week!

 

While you may enjoy running around outside in the rain and digging in the mud, it might be wise of you to rethink your decision to cover your entire body in mud.  You see Charlie, when you do that you leave little foot prints everywhere.  That means I can see what you've done.  For example, when you go digging in the mud I can now tell that you:

*Ran into the house and back outside about 346 times.  I can tell that 3 of those times you had to make a full loop into the house, through the living room, into the entry, in the kitchen, around the kitchen island and back out the door.

*Jumped on my favorite lounge chair at least 7 times.

*Jumped on the back of my lounge chair.

*The arm rest of my lounge chair.

*Dropped your stuffed elephant behind my lounge chair, jumped behind there to get it, spun in circles, and came out from under my side table.

*Got onto my side table.

*Stepped in the tissue box.

* Stepped back on the side table.

*Jumped on the couch and spun in approximatly 4 circles.  

*Ran up and down the stairs enough to make sure there was at least 4 muddy paw prints on every single stair.

*Pulled the protective blanket off my lounge chair to be sure that all paw prints were on the expensive fabric and NOT on the protective blanket.

*Tried to see what was on the kitchen island (yes, paw prints stick to that)

*Tried to see what was on the dining room table IN THREE SPOTS.

*Ran down the stairs into the laundry room.

*Spun in more circles.

*Jumped up to look out the window.

*Ran in and out about 467 more times.

*Jumped on the coffee table & spun cirlces.

*Stepped on BOTH laptops & the iPad.

* Went up & down the stairs a few more times

*Jumped on the couch two more times just for fun.

 

 

All in one hour.  You've been one very busy puppy in one hour.  You should really think about this next time you choose to dig in the mud.  Had you stayed clean I wouldn't have known what you've been up to.  But now, now I'm onto you little puppy.  Next time it rains you will probably spend the entire day crated!

Sincerly, 

Your very angry mommy who now has to wash every item in her living room.

I want to be nosey for a while.  So please comment below and tell me:

1. When you leave work at the end of the day is your desk clean?  

2. Do you actually finish all of your work at the end of the day?

3. Do you make lists often?

4. If you make lists how do you make them? On paper, an ap, the computer?

5.  How do you schedule stuff? Do you do it on the computer, a desktop calendar or an appointment book?

6. If you leave the office and your desk is clean, is it clean because you stack what is left over into neat little piles or folders or is it clean because you actually finished your work?

7. If you have a job answering phones I'm just dying to know…Do you have a phone voice?

 

And as an added side note want to know how to make Shannon go into a total panic attack in 3 seconds flat?  Heres how:

Do the companies W-2's, 1099's and quarterly taxes.  

Mail them.

Open the mail box and see a GIANT package from the IRS

Completely panic.  

Total freak out that you messed up the companies taxes, or W-2's or SOME BIG GIANT CLUSTERFUCK OF A MESS.  Panic about telling your boss.  

Get heart palpitations.

Open the envelope.

Discover a very very LARGE stack of papers with instructions.

Realize you are fucked.

Look a little harder and realize they are the FREE 2012 1099's you ordered for this year so you wouldn't have to buy them at the store.

Feel like an asshole.

Slam the mailbox shut.

Get your shit together.

 

Please…pay attention to my youngest son Codi and my oldest son MY HUSBAND! 

After this…I gave up

Then I tried to just get pictures of my boys alone.  It went great!

Also, can someone please explain to me why my kids insist on throwing up gang signs in every picture????  

A few months ago Rob came to me and told me he thought that at six years old Brandon was old enough to take a shower on his own.  I was appalled.  There was no way my sweet wittle baby was going to shower alone.  Who would wash his ears?  Who would make sure he washed behind his ears?  Who would be sure the dirty boy grubbiness was scrubbed out from under his chin.  I did the only logical thing possible and asked my friends on Facebook.  Every single person agreed with my husband. (I'm soooo giving you all dirty looks right now).  They even agreed that my sweet little four year old Codi was old enough to shower on his own.  UNACCEPTABLE PEOPLE!  That's my tiny little baby. Of course Codi loves it.  To add insult to injury he's started telling me he wants to put his own lotion and jammies on after the bath.  

NO!

JUST NO!

I draw the line at taking away my lotion time!

There are so many other things I wonder about though.  For instance, every morning when I drop off Codi at daycare there is a girl there who leaves her 7 year old in the car while running her younger child into the daycare.  I don't get it.  What if he put the car in gear and ran someone over?  What if he was stolen? What if? A MILLION THINGS CAN HAPPEN (in my head it's more like a billion).  I don't understand this.  What age is appropriate to leave your kids alone in the car?  I can't actually imagine an age that is ever okay.  Thirteen? NO! Fifteen? Um, people still kidnap fifteen year olds.  Twenty?  Possibly if they have developed implanted GPS chips by then.  

Is there some day going to be a switch in my head that tells me it's okay to leave my kids in the car while I run into the bank? I see kids sitting alone in the car while their parents run into the store or Starbucks and I have heart palpitations for a whole day over it. Not to mention Lainey has officially put the fear of God in me about leaving kids in the car.

The same thing happens while dropping of Brandon at school.  Every day I park my car, get out and walk to line with Brandon.  I wait until his teacher comes out and walk to the door with him.  This seems normal.  Many moms do it.  BUT many moms do the opposite.  I see so many moms drive up to the curb (some stop in the middle of the street), push a button on their mini van so the door opens, let their kid out and drive away before their van door even closes.  It blows m mind.  How do they know their kid made it to class.  How do they know someone didn't grab their kid when they walk behind a bus and take them.  HOW DO THEY KNOW?  Which makes me wonder, what age is acceptable to let your kid walk to their class alone?  I can't actually imagine letting my kids walk to school alone at any point during elementary school.  Middle school?  Isn't that when gangs come around?  Isn't that when kids start getting beat up for their shoes?  And in high school…high school isn't that where all the little girls are going to jump on my little boy and try break his heart?  I honestly cannot wrap my mind around just letting them go all by themselves.  

What did Monica in Friends say to her son? "I'm going to love you so much no girl is ever going to be enough for you."  That's how I feel.  Only I don't think any situation is going to be okay.  I dread the day my son asks to go to the park alone with his friends. The park? Doesn't ever episode of Criminal Minds start out at the park?  

Brandon was slowly growing out of his car seat.  So I purchased him one of those convertible carseats that starts out as a five point harness booster seat that still buckles into the car.  I kept him in the five point harness until a week ago.  Everyone else has their kids in a normal booster that just uses a seat belt, or no booster at all.  Finally last week Brandon looked at me with those big huge eyes and asked if he could please have a booster seat like his friends I gave in.  I realize I can't have a 16 year old in a five point harness….I wish I could though.  I have a panic attack every time we drive now.  What if tomorrow we get in an accident and he dies because I took him out of the harness?  I take solace in the fact that I can probably at least convince him to stay in the booster seat for another 5 years.  With a lot of bribes.  Am I crazy though?  Is it normal to let an almost seven year old sit in the car without a booster?  Am I just neurotic and overly worried?

I am terrified of my children growing up.  I'm sick at the thought of them turning sixteen and driving off on their own.  Or having a sleep over.  I am horrified imagining the first time one of my boys ask to go to a concert alone.  Or to the mall with their friends.  

There are so many things that can go wrong. So many predators.  So many bad people and boogie men and enemies out there.  How is a mother ever supposed to feel okay letting her little boys go?  I imagine it's similar to how dad's feel about their daughters.  

I've devised a plan.  Basically when they turn about ten I'm going to find a reason to just go ahead and ground them for life.   That way there will be no sleep overs, trips away from me, unsupervised insanity.  

Am I alone?  Am I a minority?  Did I just offend hundreds of mini van driving moms who drop their kids off?  How do you feel?  At what age am I supposed to start letting go?  When am I supposed to let them grow up?  Perhaps around thirty five?  

This is all so hard!

After yesterday's post regarding my injuries you would think I would learn my lesson.  That I would stop acting like a dumbass and NOT HURT MYSELF.

You would think that.

I blame my husband and kids for what happens next.

I should also tell you that there was ALMOST video of this but I caught my husband and made him stop.

While eating a nice family lunch Codi out of nowhere asked me if I used to be a cheerleader. I told him that, "yes I had been when I was younger."  He then asked me if I used to know how to do the jump splits.  Again, "yes." He then informed me that daddy told him I could do that.  

Which obviously led to Brandon and Codi BEGGING AND PLEADING for mommy to show them how I used to do the "jump splits" when I was younger.

I wanted to be cool.  I wanted my kids to be wowed.  So. 

I did it.

Five times.

I prepped (husband laughed as I got in position and said, "ready OKAY") bent, jumped, landed and then fell backwards onto my ass onto the hardwood.  My husband laughed at me and told me to stop. 

PSH I'm not stopping because I am going to land this bitch.

Jump. Land. Crash onto the hard wood.

Lather rinse repeat.  Once I tried jumping and Charlie tried jumping with me and I almost did a cross between smashing and killing my dog and smashing and killing my face.  I jumped a final time and landed in some kind of messy pile on the floor, THE HARDWOOD FLOOR and finally gave up.  My ass hurts.  My tail bone hurts.  My back really really hurts.

Why don't I learn? 

What would make a thirty year old women think she could still do cheerleading jumps? 

What would make that same girl try to do a herkie jump after trying five jump splits?

I'm just thankful my husband didn't catch any of it on tape.  

So yes, please send bubble wrap.  And some smart pills because clearly I need a dose of intelligence.

Last week while I was cooking dessert for my catering gig while babysitting a dessert called "chocolate decadence" that needed to bake for about eleven hundred hours I decided to do the dishes.  I finished the dishes and the cake was still not done so I decided to put them away.  The very last thing I grabbed was the blade that goes inside the food processor.  

I sliced my pinky finger open.

LIKE WAY OPEN

Like blood dripping all over the kitchen and clean dishes and clean counters.  This is where I should mention that I've never asked my boss where the bandaids were so I was running around with a giant paper towel wrapped around my finger. 

DING.

The cake was done.

This is where I should mention that the cake was one of those things you have to put in a pan, but then put the pan inside a broiler pan full of water to prevent your cake (that was later called exquisite at a party that week) from cracking on top.  So I have my hand wrapped up in a paper towel and my other hand in an oven mitt and I reach in to grab the first pan and the paper toweled hand slips and the next thing I know I've burned my wrist  ON THE OTHER HAND. 

But because that wasn't enough, while I was struggling to get the first pan out of the pan of SCALDING HOT BURNING WATER I burned my finger tips in the water.

Let's recap.

In three minutes I sliced a finger, burned my wrist and burned my finger tips.

Thank god it turned out "exquisite" right?

Two days later I'm sitting at home and my pinky is healing nicely when I notice some dirt on my heavy ass down couch cushion.  I picked it up and went to shake it and to be honest I'm not sure what exactly happened but suddenly the cushion wasn't in my hand anymore and I was bent over trying my hardest not to cry because there was now blood gushing out from UNDER my fingernails.

UNDER THE NAILS.

I had bent them back farther then I knew possible.  It was bad.  I was kind of frozen just thinking.."don't cry, don't cry, don't cry." 

Three days later my fingers are still bruised, sore and the little one starts bleeding if I type too much.

Then today my mom asked me what the bruise on my arm was.  I looked down and I couldn't even answer her.  

(I hate not knowing where a bruise came from)

I laughed about all my owies and said I had no clue.

But tonight in the shower I remembered.  

Last night, walking up the stairs I fell. 

Let's say that again….

I FELL UP THE STAIRS.

My husband laughed at me.  Then looked at me wondering how in the hell I fell up the stairs.  Then when I complained that it really did hurt he laughed more and called me his, "special little girl."  I tried to no avail to show him the scrape (there was a scrape) to prove that I really had gotten hurt.  He didn't believe me.

But today…TODAY!!!! There was a bruise.

So I give up.  I need adult supervision or something.  Or a padded room.  Or….I don't know, but I need to stop.  Because this shit hurts people.  How about you, have any of you had any rad owies lately.  Tell me about them.*

*Unless they involve puss, or things that will make my boobies tingle from reading about your pain…then don't tell me.

Tonight I received an email from Kim.  She heard about the fire in Reno and was worried about me.  When I saw that email, there are no words big enough, or eloquent enough to describe how warm my heart was.

Kim and I have been reading each other since she was on a different blog and I was hosted on Blogger and still a secret to my family and blogging the really juicy details of my life.  I could not believe she took time out to think of me, worry about me, CONTACT ME.

The problem with blogging lately is that we are all lazy.  We read blogs on our phone, or through a reader and we never comment.  Because no one comments, many of us believes that no one is reading us anymore.  I often find myself thinking, "no on is even reading this I should just shut it down, what's the point I'm talking to myself."  

But then an email comes through, from a blog friend I've known over three years and suddenly I didn't feel so invisible anymore.  Someone is still reading me.  Someone still remembers me.  That little email gave me the little nudge I needed to commit to posting again.  I still read all of you.  I try and comment when I can.  I promise to comment more.  I promise to try and write more.  We've been through a lot together and most of us have never met.  We've gone through pregnancies, divorces, miscarriages, infidelity, fights, disabilities, cancers, marriages, and so much more together yet we have all stopped taking the time to stop in and say hello.  

WHY?

You girls mean the world to me.  You have listened to me talk about depression, medication, my kids, my husband, my past.  None of you have judged me.  You have held my hand from a million miles away.  I want you all to know, I'm still here, I still see you and I still appreciate every single one of you.

Kim.  Thank you so much for making my night, for thinking of me and for writing.  Thank you….for making the effort.

I promise to pay it forward!

When your six year old tells people he wants to sing them a song and theb belts out the following Johnnu Cash lyrics, “I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.”. That right there is when you know you’ve won at parenting!

I went to type this on my MacBook Pro but I hadn't plugged it in. I thought of typing it on my iPhone but remembered I had an iPad so I'm typing from that (side note someone please send me a keyboard for this). Today a little part of my life was completed. Our office ordered a Mac Mini. This means my family has owned an original Macintosh, G3, G4, Power PC Mac, iMacs, MacBooks, MacBook pros, original iPod, iPod nano in all sizes, iPod shuffle, iPhone 3, iPhone 4, apple tv, iPad….and now a Mac Mini.

I feel like I'm missing something.

I read Steve Jobs book and what I didn't know was how involved he was with every single aspect of Apple all the way down to hand picking the flooring for the stores. If you take apart an original Macintosh the inside is beautiful. The board was laid out perfectly. No one could open the Mac at that time but he didn't care he wanted everything to be done so pristine that if it was opened people would be wowed by what they saw. When I booted up that little Mac Mini my heart was warm. It started up and I just went right to work.

I cannot imagine a life without Apple.

When I drove to the Apple store today I paid attention to the floor. The color of the walls. All of it. I felt blessed to be a part of something Steve created. I highly recommend his book. He may have been an asshole but he was an asshole who produced amazing user friendly products that I actually love.

If there was a fire after I saved my kids and dog the next thing I would save? EVERY SINGLE APPLE PRODUCT I OWN.

I remembered reading in his book about how Steve was so involved he even designed the packaging to be easily opened and interactive when opened. As I opened the Mini I smiled the whole way. When I lifted it out, under it was a little manual and the words simply read: HELLO How sweet It said hi. It reminded me of the release of the first Mac when Steve said it would introduce its self and suddenly the Mac said, "hello my name is Macintosh."

There aren't a lot of products out there that are designed to make the consumer happy from the moment they receive the box. Steve had incredible work ethic. I took away so much from that book and I think you could too. You would be surprised what you can accomplish if you only allow yourself to believe.

Go, buy this book now. RIGHT NOW Even if you like winblows computers you will still love this book. Especially after reading about what a super douche Gates is.

Go.

Now

Read

Hurry