Childhood friends

Christina (this is where you met Christina) and I were inseparable in elementary school.  Her brother, Dave, and my brother were also best friends.  We spent all of our free time together, either at her house or mine.  Her parents were like second parents to me.  My house was like her second house.  Funny story: one night my family and I were sitting at the table eating supper when Christina's brother walked in.  He said hello, washed up, grabbed a plate, and sat down with us, and then filled- nay, heaped his plate with food.  No one batted an eyelash. This is what it was like.  My brother at the time was I think 15, so Dave would have been 16.  My mom was used to cooking for an army just to feed one teenage boy, so what's one more, right?  It just meant no leftovers for my brother to eat while he cleared the table.  Anyways, David finished his plate, gave my mom a kiss and said, "Sorry to eat and run.  Gotta get home for supper." You see?

In junior high, Christina's family moved away, but then her and Dave moved back to live with their dad when we were just starting senior high.  Sometime in the summer before 11th grade, she went from a chunky, kind of nerdy-looking girl to this smokin' hot blonde with big boobs and a slim but curvy body.  I am pretty sure she was the subject of many a jerk session for many a high school boy.  (Did I mention she was extremely smart? Yeah, she's a doctor now.) I would say I was a mite jealous, not of the male attention she received, but because she didn't really want to hang out with me anymore.  Perhaps it wasn't so much jealousy as hurt.  I can't really describe it, only to say we had one of those really tight we'llbebestfriendsforever friendships that girls have.. and then we didn't.  So really, I guess hurt describes it.  When we got to senior high school, she had a bunch of new and different, older friends who would take her to the bar on Friday night.  She had a boyfriend and hung around with him and his friends.  We still did stuff occasionally, it just wasn't as often.  After high school, she went to university and I went to work.  We traveled to California together once, for a week.  After the trip, we did keep in touch through letters, and saw each other once in a while. Eventually, our connection faded.  I would send her an email once in a while, I think she wrote me back once.  In a strange twist of fate, her dad died a week after my mom did.  I tried to get in touch with her after that but no response.

So here I am on Facebook yesterday, checking out a friend's page just to see how her New Years was. (I wouldn't exactly say I'm a Facebook creeper.. let's go with borderline creeper.)  Wouldn't you know it.  There is a comment left by Christina.  Christina has added two high school friends to her friend list.  Neither one of them is me.  It's awkward, now.  Since I was on Facebook first (and oh yes, I looked for her a couple of times on FB), she should send me a friend request, right? Or do I send her a friend request? Do I wait for her? It's like running into the mother of an acquaintance in the grocery store.  It's a pretty tenuous connection, so whaddyado?  Say hi or pretend not to see her?  And then if she says hi make up some quick lie like, "Oh, I wasn't sure if that was you or not?!" Am I over-thinking this?

I look back wistfully at the days when I was a kid.  Things in my world were so solid, so literal, that I never questioned that they would go on forever.  As a kid, there weren't many shades of grey.  As a kid, I would have staked my collection of New Kids on the Block posters, tapes, and memorabilia that my friendship with Christina would last forever.  Of course, I would have bet my NKOTB stuff that NKOTB would Rule The World Forever, too.

It's probably a good thing I don't gamble very often.

Yo.

About this?

There was discussion, disagreement, back-and-forth-ness, and then compromise. Now, there is peace in the house. For today.

Dum dum DUM.

Conversations with a 4 year old

Some things were said by the Hurricane over the Christmas holidays.  For your reading pleasure:

Out of nowhere, at the supper table one night: "I'll rock your ass."

In the bathroom, talking to his sister, not wearing a shirt: "Want to see my tits?"  Aunty Meg busted him and he tried to cover by saying, "No, I said 'do you want to see my kits,' Aunty.  I said kits, not that other word."

After Grandma and Poppa took him to McDonalds for lunch, where he received an Avatar movie toy in his happy meal: "Mom, look what I got from Old McDonalds! It's a Battle-tard toy!  It's a Battle-tard horse!"

Smiling When Your Friends Are Watching

I'm still here.  I'm barely hanging on by the skin of my fingernails but I'm still here.  Life is handing me lemons, and I'm not interested in making lemonade.  I'm more interested in cutting the lemons in half and then squeezing them into the eyes of one who needs a fucking wake up call.

The tension in this house is freaking unreal.  (Sorry, dear sister, that you received some of the lemon-squeezy. I do love you enormously.)  My guts are completely twisted up.  In my mind, I am alternately curled up in a ball and bent over barfing because I can't stomach the stress.  Since Hot Stuff reads my blog sometimes, I am not going to get into detail, although again, like it was here, it is rocky between us.  Only worse.  And this? Was me. Still is. Only worse. To those who left a comment; thank you, my heart was touched.

Last year at this time I could not wait until 2008 was over. In 2008, my mother died. My relationship with my brother fell apart.  My Little Dude was born.  It was all too much and I kept telling myself, don't worry, 2008 is almost over.  2009 will be better.  It wasn't.  This year I am not telling myself that 2010 will be better.  This year I am telling myself that I will make 2010 better.  I will not leave it to someone else.

The meaning of Christmas

A conversation yesterday morning between Hot Stuff and I as we (finally) put up the tree:

HS: So.. what do you want for Christmas?

Me: Um.. I don't know.. whatever.

HS: Well, don't say whatever, or I'll end up coming home with a frying pan or a house coat or something. And how many house coats do you have, like three upstairs that you don't wear?

Me: Yeah. Well, why don't you get me an apron? I need an apron.

HS: Are you serious? You want an apron?

Me: Well, kind of.

HS: uncertain smile

Me: Lookit, I'll tell you what. You think about me, and about what I would like. If you put some thought into it, I'm sure you can figure it out.

HS: Are you fucking serious?

Me: Well, yeah. You need to put some thought into it. Seriously, it won't be that hard. Just consider me and what my tastes are, what I like and don't like, and I'm sure you'll come home with the perfect gift.

(I am such a shit.)

Hot stuff leaves to go pick up a gift for me and then grab my sister from the bus station. On the way into town, he calls me from his cell.

HS: Hey, were you serious about all of that earlier?

Me: Yeah. Hon, you have to put some thought into it, okay? I'm sure you'll do great.

HS: Fuck.

Is it wrong to take such delight in playing cat and mouse with someone's sanity? Is it fair to lay down this pressure five days before Christmas?  The answer is a most enthusiastic Yes! I have learned that the true meaning of Christmas is being able to put the screws to your partner in life for your own personal enjoyment.

Thank you, honey, this was the best gift ever.

I am not without mercy.  After Doreen and I laughed about it, I gave her the okay to call Hot Stuff and tell him that an iPod would also be a good gift. (Although, I am fully aware that I will be opening another frying pan and/or housecoat Christmas morning if he reads this.)

Letters of Intent, Dec 18/09

Brought to you by Julie @ Foursons.

Dear Little Dude,

I'm tired, okay? I'm sorry that you are teething, but there is nothing I can do about it.  I give you Motrin, we cuddle, we laugh, you have a bottle, I put you to bed, you commence with the wailing.  I get you out of bed; you don't want a teether, you're not hungry, you don't want the facecloth, you don't want me rubbing your gums, and as soon as I put you to back to bed you start this crying business again.  It needs to stop.  Seriously.  I am all done, baby. Alllll done. I am also WAY ALL DONE being woken up two or three times in the middle of the night.  I am taking care of all your little baby needs before bed so I don't have to be coming down in the night to settle you back to sleep.  One of these times I am going to break my damn neck on the stairs because my brain, which is supposed to be at the helm, is still actually asleep.  If you could just tell me what you want, I would try to do accommodate you.  If all you want is to yank my chain, which is what I think is really going on, sorry.  I'm not that kind of Mama. You'll have to get over your adorable little self and cry yourself to sleep.  I'm not going to play the game tonight.  It's been a stressful week and I have nothing in the tank except nausea.  Just a few more days until your Aunty Meg comes to visit; she is a much less tired second-mother and has much more stamina.  Tough it out, kid.

Love, Mom

Dear Hurricane,

Thank you so much for making me laugh today.  Yes, that guy was weeeeiiirrrrrddd looking.  Maybe next time you could tell me in a quieter voice.  Also, you don't know this but after you went to bed, I came downstairs and laughed because you asked me why I was freaking out.  Who taught you those words? Oh yeah, me.

Love, Mom

Dear Princess,

Please, please stop taking your pull ups off during naptime.  I am tired of scrubbing poop out of your carpet.  It's very labour-intensive.  Yes, I know we are going to replace the carpet soon, but come ON.  Cut me a bit of slack, okay?  I can't be changing your sheets every day or washing your toys all the time because you got poop on them, either. 

Love, Mom

Letters of Intent, Dec 11/09

Brought to you by Julie at Foursons. Click over and read some other great letters. After you finish laughing at me, of course.

Dear People Who Are Having A Shitty Day (and/or Anyone Else Who Needs A Laugh),

In the world of Stone Fox, days are seldom without some laughter/drama/tears (kids)/tears (mine)/carpet scrubbing (and that's not a sexual innuendo, unfortunately).  Today was no exception, although I did wake up and wonder to myself, Self, what are you going to post about today? Nobody has spewed any bodily fluids on any carpeting and/or upholstery for 24 hours straight.

Before I knew it, the morning was over and I picked up the Hurricane from school and headed into town.  A quick stop at Greyhound and then on to Wendy's, as I am not made of actual stone and the whines and pleas of the childrens does wear me down.  Know what I discovered when I pulled up to Wendy's Order Here microphone?  The Order Here microphone in the lane where there is no way to get out of the lane because it has a high curb and you can't drive out because there is a minivan in front of you and you can't back out because there are two guys in a pick up truck right behind you?

I discovered that my driver's side window was frozen shut.  Frozen. Shut. Tighter than a duck's arse.  So while I am wondering what the EFF is wrong with my window, I open my truck door, get out of the truck, and proceed to place my order into the microphone.  All the while, I am jabbing the open/close button for my window, trying (unsuccessfully) to get the son of a bitch unstuck.  I could hear the lady at the drive through window laughing her ass off when she repeated my order back to me.  I am pretty sure I heard the two guys in the pick-up truck killing themselves as well, but I was too embarrassed to even look in their direction.  I get back in, drive up to the Pay Here window.  Get out of the truck.  Give the lady, who is still laughing, my bank card as I lamely attempt to explain my truck window is stuck.  While I am waiting for the transaction to go through, I grab my window scraper and make a huge deal out of scraping the bottom edge of my window.  Then grab my bank card and get back into the truck.  Hammer again, still unsuccessfully, on the open/close button for my window.  Drive up to the Pick Up Order Here window.  Get out of truck.  Pick up order.  Hear several people inside the drive thru windows laughing.  Don't even bother giving lame "window is stuck" excuse.  Hang head in shame and haul ass back to truck.  Lay down rubber speeding out of drive thru lane.

I drove four blocks before I pulled over and gave the kids their meals.

We're probably going to start eating at A&W's now.

Having a great day,
Stone