FISH DEATH

     Well, it finally happened.  We lost our fish, 2 dollars.  I actually kept him alive for 4 years.  He was our second beta fish.  The first died after a week and Max was young enough to where I could just flush him and pick up a new one.  The first fish’s name was 1 dollar (his actual price plus change) so the name two dollars seemed to fit just right for our second fish. 

I recently noticed how 2 dollars was slowly swimming around on the verge of floating.  I was disheartened because he/she is usually a very hyperactive fish which was the reason I picked him/her out in the first place. I figured a fish with a lot of speed would last us a little longer and I was right.

            I am smirking as I write this but I actually took pride in how well I took care of that stupid fish.  I changed his tank when it started to look foggy.  I fed him sparingly because I know they will die instantly if even slightly overfed (like I did to the last one) and I gave him a funny deep fish voice when he chit chatted with my son (almost everyday).   Max would come home from nursery school and run right into the kitchen to tell two dollars about everything he learned and the friends he made.   He would show his fish all of his projects, hold them up to the tank so 2 dollars could have a better view, and leave his art work beside the little plastic tank to keep two dollars company.

 The conversations they had were pretty darn cute.  2 dollars would always ask Max a ton of questions with his famous quote, “blurb.” “blurp.” afterwards and Max absolutely adored the attention two dollars gave him.  So when I witnessed two dollars sunken corpse at the bottom of the tank, I thought, “oh no…what do I say?”

            This is a very ironic situation for me personally.  When I watch shows on TV and a parent has to have one of “those” talks with their children; say it be: sex, death, divorce, etc. and they just can’t bring themselves to come out and say what it is they want to say,  I always critically question,, “what’s the hold up? It’s a child….your child! Just come out with it and be non-chalant.” Well, I just got my first taste of a semi-awkward conversation with my son. 

            At first I was going to do the old bait and switch.  Just flush the fish, go out and pick up a look alike and move on with life, right? (That’s was my husband’s advice) but then I thought, this may be a good opportunity to teach him about death.  God forbid, if something ever happened to me or Jake, I would want my children to not have the added shock of hearing about death for the first time.  I want him to understand where we go (to the wonderful, glorious absolutely astonishing heaven) how we go (in the ground, in a beautiful, comfortable box, called a casket) And then up to heaven where all their loved ones gather and watch over living souls on earth.  (And of course, how we will all reunite in heaven one day when hopefully we are very, very old).

            I broke the news on the car ride home from school.  That way he couldn’t see my uneasy face.  As I explained, I had a little lump in my throat.  It was the strangest thing.  I mean it should be the simplest thing to explain.  He had some questions, like always and I could hear his little voice start to quiver.  That made the lump in my throat get bigger and then I could hear my own voice start to quiver.  We didn’t cry though.  I could tell we both sucked it up together.  We loved that stupid fish.

            In that instant I understood what the writers for TV meant to express.  You can’t understand how hard it is to communicate with your children.  It’s almost like an out of body experience.  You know what to say, you think you know how to say it, you could easily say it to anyone else in the world, but seeing your child cringe at your very words is so difficult.  I still don’t fully understand the extent of this awkwardness because my boys are not teenagers yet and I know there are going to be a lot more of “those” conversations. 

            However, Max took the news like a champ.  His spirits where uplifted when I told him we were going right to Petco to pick out another fish and we even had a little memorial service in the bathroom as we flushed 2 dollars and said our goodbyes.  We expressed our love and told him we would see him again on the other side.  It seemed like I made the right choice to be honest and tell Max what really happened, but now I’m a little nervous that our new fish, 3 dollars, will kick the bucket soon and how I will have to explain (all over again) that fish death is quite frequent.  I don’t want him thinking or (god forbid) fearing about death too much. 

            I’m worrying too much! That’s a mother’s job, isn’t it?! We’ll take it day by day.  Oh…the cheesiness when you become a mother.  It’s great…Isn’t it! (Eye rolling)

A GREAT YEAR FOR THE CANCER HOROSCOPE

My horoscope insists that this will be a fabulous year for me.  According to the planets interactions I am supposed to be lavished with all types of gifts and rewards.  I am not pathetically superstitious but I am kind of a sucker for fortune telling and all that mysterious gobblety gook, so of course when I see something positive being predicted it gives me a little glimmer of hope for my future.  So far my year has been pretty darn good.  Nothing spectacular but a steady stream of uplifting events.  For instance, my little part time job from home has been on the up and up.  Boss seems happy with my performance.  More importantly, we are in the second round of Jay’s board of education evaluations and everyone has been extremely friendly and helpful in getting the ball rolling for him to start his special Ed nursery school.  And as for relaxation and unwinding, the hubby and I got to get away to Atlantic City for the weekend while my in-laws watched the kids.  Not only did we stay in my favorite casino/hotel, Caesars, but we played black jack into the wee hours of the morning and we both won.  I broke even (which is still winning in my book) and my husband racked up those green $25 chips that I love seeing.  He’ll give away those red $5 chips to the house all day but when the green comes in, he throws them in his front shirt pocket while I’m eyeing of course and he lets them stay their safely until we go back to the room and count the winnings.  I state this process like it is a usual routine for us and I am happy to say (while knocking on wood) it is.  He is like an amazing black jack guru.  He wins almost every time.  It’s because he is a ballsy gambler.  Doubling down, splitting, even playing the extra luck lady spot (you know what that is if you gamble) Most say it’s the suckers bet but amazing that bet paid out too.  Thank god he wins because boy is he a crankster when he doesn’t.  He gets that immature pout on his face and his little toddler routine could easily ruin the trip.  So I am relived to say we both won (and for me to win is a rarity). 

After gambling till my eyes almost fell out of my head we got to see the Gypsy Kings in concert.  Even though they are Spanish and we can’t understand a word they are saying we truly appreciate their talent.  Those old Spanish guys can play the guitar like no other.  Everyone was out of their seat enjoying the rhythm.  I was even shaking my part Spanish booty.  Part Spanish meaning the part that is so far back in the family tree that we have no clue which ancestor gave us our Spanish last name.  All we know is that a great great great grandfather was from Spain and our Hispanic blood line must have been wiped out but somehow we managed to keep the name.  Any how, the stage manager for the Gypsy Kings was letting some women get up on stage to dance during the finale.  The thought of me getting to go up there passed my mind, but I blew it off thinking I am a mom of two with a very conservative (when it comes to his wife) husband who might not enjoy me attempting another shot a fame.   Just then, as that thought was passing by, the stage manager caught my eye, pointed at me and mouthed the words, “You!  Come now!”  He must have read my mind because it took me precisely one second to climb over the people next to me, grab that wonderful man’s hand and let him lead me on stage next to about ten other women so I could shake my thang next to these “ok, maybe older” but very talented men.  After enjoying the view I was always meant to have (wink. Wink.) I looked out into the crowd to see if my hubby was taking pictures or even better, recording this once in a life time opportunity.  And you know what?....He was sitting in his seat with the meanest grimace shooting daggers at me.  I knew in the instant that I was in trouble.  And for a brief second, it broke my heart.  The fact that the one person in the world whom I wanted to see me on stage was the one person who absolutely hated to see me on stage.  In a nut shell, this has been our biggest problem from the very beginning.  I wanted one thing and he wanted the total opposite.  But I love him and I have changed for him and so far, I have experienced a perfect life with him.  Isn’t that what marriage is about?

Once I tore my eyes away from his, I fully enjoyed the tiny feeling of fame and I left it there with no proof to show to anyone.  He ripped me a new one after the show but he knew he was in the wrong, so he kept his lecture brief.  For my husband a lecture is not really a lecture, it’s a comedy roast filled with sarcastic and insulting shots.  If anyone was to witness this tantrum, you would get a big laugh out of his “lectures” You may even want to pay to see his comedy routine because he is just so darn funny and quick witted but he’ll get his point in loud and clear which was, “Why are you dancing onstage when you know I don’t like you drawing attention to yourself!”

Anyway, I blew him off (Yuck! That phrase looks horrible on paper).  After eleven years of these type lectures it doesn’t get under my skin like it used to.  Instead, I told his family about my little performance, as soon as we picked up the kids and I am ready to tell anyone who will listen that I got to dance on stage.  That is his punishment and he hates it.  Hehehe.

So that was some pretty good luck.  And it’s only February, so now I am waiting for more little wonderful surprises to happen.  I am like a little kid on Christmas waiting for presents.  I hope I’m not pissing off the astronomical gods because I’m expecting goodies, but it has been pretty uplifting to say the least.

A GET AWAY

            It’s so sad that I just paid $10 for milk and tissues.  What is this world coming to when I have to pay that much for a little drink and something to wipe our poor runny noses?  That and the fact that I have a couple of close family members with heavy duty disabilities and their monthly food allotment by the state was cut down to $40 a month.  That doesn’t even include any paper products.  No toilet paper, no napkins, no soap and certainly no tissues.  This is all due to our economy drowning in dept.  So far, some solutions have been to tax foods, cut disability, and slash Medicare.  Oh and I’m sure our government gets a nice piece from spiking the cost of gas every possible holiday weekend or that could just be my gov. conspiracy paranoia talking.

            Our monthly mortgage bill would make the average person sick to their stomach.  We should be living in a mansion for what we pay.  It doesn’t help matters that our county is one of the most expensive places to live in besides NYC.  Upstate NY taxes are astronomical but at least you get a nice chunk of property. 

The county we live in is small close quarters, overpopulated towns and a squished melting pot of mostly blue collared workers just trying to get by.  I live more towards upstate NY, so my town is bigger and a lot less crowded than the heart of the county, but we still pay out the nose for a little two bedroom townhouse.  Unfortunately, we bought at the height of the market in 2004.  Now, seven years later and with two little boys, the market has crashed and we would wind up losing a boat load even if we amazingly sold our place.  Now we are stuck, like most people our age, and the real estate market broke my heart. 

            Besides the mortgage which gobbles up most of my poor hubby’s check, we have the car payment, credit cars (lets not go there!) cell phones, the gym, pre-school, Jay’s therapy, utilities and expensive weekends where it seems like we go no where, do nothing, buy nothing, eat light and still manage to drop $300 without blinking.

            My husband handles the bills because he is the organized one, never has made a late payment and enjoys keeping the books.  I, on the other hand, would lose bills in the laundry, would have our electricity cut off and would stress big time over missed calculations (caused by bad math).  However, I am the saver.  I would cut things out, eat bread for dinner and crunch those numbers hard to save every penny.  My husband likes to splurge.  He is never cheap…lucky for me.  Never stingy! But, has no problem spending money.  He has kept good track of the books, but boy! Are the books getting over loaded!  Here is the perfect example; we go to Aruba once a year.  I love it and crave the break from the kids.  Grandma and grandpa stay at our house and watch the grand kids while we relax in tropical luxury.  Now, if I were in charge of the money, I would probably say we couldn’t afford it.  Let’s save.  Which I have said in the past, but hubby insists, “We need it!”  When I’m drowning in a bad day he’ll whisper about the palm tree’s, he’ll smirk when reminiscing about the black jack tables, he’ll playfully tickle me when we think about cuddling in the crystal clear, aqua green ocean, and he’ll remind me how the weather is always perfect.  Of course, I agree, especially when the kids are screaming in the back ground.  He makes perfect sense and off we go.  But I know we should be saving. 

Poor guy! He works so hard.  All he wants is a little break.  Who wouldn’t want to get away?  This economy sucks!  Bye…I’m going to Aruba.

THE SCREAMING

THE SCREAMING

            Jay just got slapped on the hand for drawing on the TV.  I never really yell at him.  It kills me when I do, because I know how innocent he is.  Except when he is screaming.  He has some scream!  I’ve never heard a human beings vocal cords reach that pitch.  It’s defining and makes your ears ring.  He just has to grow up to become a singer.  Singers don’t need too be the sharpest tool in the shed.  Plus, he’s pretty darn cute and he can easily cover those ears with long rocker hair.  I don’t know where my boys got their protruding ears from.  My mother says they were inherited from my grandfather.  I personally harbor guilt for having breast feed them with their ears bent in the wrong direction.  I should have straightened them out every time, but my boys were attached to my boobs constantly and I just wasn’t up for paying attention to that little detail.  Now I have two gorgeous boys with ears that hopefully the girls will want to pull them in by for kisses.  They do have really kissable faces.  I’ve kissed them so many times that they have been all red from irritation or lipstick. 

            Can I tell you!?  There is nothing more frustrating and painful then the sound of your child’s scream.  I think God made our child’s voice magnifying to us so our mother lion instinct would kick in and send our reaction time into overdrive.  Like when we jump up to make a bottle even though we are going on two hours of broken sleep or race over to pull our kids head out of a vice (whatever the circumstances may be that day).  But what about the fact that such a scream can really piss you off!  Even from your very own offspring?  God certainly doesn’t want you to haul off and belt them.  It’s even hard to admit that sometime I would like to, but motherhood is a true test of patience and when mine wears thin, I remind myself of just that. 

It’s so hard when they scream, especially when it’s for nothing.  For example: “I don’t know where my shoes are…Wa!” or “I’m to tired to clean…Wa!” or when my husband or I leave the car for a quick second and Jay instantly screams bloody murder until we return.  Sometimes I’ll pop an M&M in his mouth and it will calm him until he’s done sucking up all the chocolate and wants more, then the screaming just starts up again.  But that’s Jay’s only flaw; screaming occasionally.  Max, on the other hand, is a big whiner, which is hard to deal with since he whines almost the whole day unless I get him out of the house.  But who would wants to go out with the whiner, when the screamer doesn’t take well to new places. 

          Jay is a very routined child.  Anything new is a little traumatic for him.  I don’t cater to that ridiculousness, so if I want to go somewhere…I go.  We bare through the crying together.  It usually lasts about twenty minutes, but then he is fine and usually well adjusted.  I guess I’m like that too.  I get a little nervous doing things for the first time, but after that, I’m fine.  Its human nature! Defense mode, I guess.  Toddlers can’t tell you they are nervous, so they just scream instead.  Come to think of it…that’s Jay’s best form of communication, at the moment.  I’ll have to ride out this roller coaster.  The highs are so sweet and the lows are excruciating. 

I can’t believe people (usually elders) have the nerve to say to me, “this is the best part of your life…when you’re children are this age.” “Enjoy it because you will miss all this!”  I smile and nod but “they” must have forgotten all about the screaming.  Then I have people who tell me, “oh boy! It only gets harder as they get older.”  That really puts the fear in me. 

            I originally wanted five kids.  Now, I think I’m happy with two.  I’ll always long for a little girl though.  Not so much the little part.  I dreamt of a teenaged girl coming to me for boyfriend advice, getting our hair done together, staying up and waiting for her to get home and tell me all about it.  I wanted her to grow up and make me her best friend for life and then bring me her babies, so I could give her a break.  I can hopeful do the same with my boys but realistically, the mother (my son’s wives) would be the ones to really call the shots when it comes to my grandchildren.  Plus, they will look to their own mothers, like I do.  I love my mother –in-law.  She’s perfect, but I still look to my mother for the answers. 

I’m only in my early 30’s so we have plenty of time to re-evaluate our family planning.  I can’t even fathom the pregnancy symptoms, the newborn feedings every three hours and the constant screaming.  Oh boy! No more screaming…please!

WORK MEMORIES

WORK MEMORIES

            Well work has kept me pre-occupied for the time being since they just increased my hours to 15 per week.  It doesn’t sound like a lot but when your juggling two kids in the same room as your work space (and under the age of five) you could say I’m working a small miracle.  I like having a little extra money.  I’m not a big spender but just knowing I don’t have to ask my hubby for grocery and diaper money is a little bit of a relief. 

I kind of feel bad because Max is stuck in front of the TV while I’m working and Jay is napping.  I would insist on him using his imagination and play with his toys, but he is kind of needy and never wants to play by himself.  Therefore he is “mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” all day long.  I’m kind of loosing my mind when I have to play toddler games all day.  I mean, how much coloring, memory, play doe and painting can a grown up do without getting bored to death.

         So my day is broken up by Max being in school three days a week, Jay getting therapy six sessions a week and I work a little in between.  It helps but my day still feels monotonous.  I guess everyone feels like that.  Especially when you’re behind a desk all day.  I’ve done that…clock watching.  I didn’t mind because the women I worked with were extremely interesting.  It was a soap opera office with cat fights, backstabbing, & competitive office contests to stimulate sales which triggered even more drama.  So it was pretty entertaining and the best part was all the women really loved each other.  I’ve worked in offices with the same kind of drama but when the women are cold and unfriendly, it changes the whole story line to awkward and no one wants to work and feel uncomfortable in their work environment. 

            That reminds me of the time I worked in a doctors office.  I started out as a file clerk, but I wanted more so I figured out the whole medical billing thing on my own and worked my way up.  The women hated it.  How dare a young twenty year old come in and grab a position that was only meant for them.  Long story short, not so nice words were said, feelings were hurt and I left with a bad taste in my mouth for medical staff in general.  After that, I found the world of advertising sales, which I loved and was pretty good at.  We were always busy, the phones rang constantly for ad placements and I was always up selling.  My boss loved me.  He would bring me in his office to tell me I was his “super star”.  I know it sounds cheesy but I liked it.  I’m a driven worker when there is an extra pat on my back.  So I ate up his compliments.  Sometimes I got the feeling he would like to do a little more than just pat me on the back, but that didn’t bother me because I’ve dealt with plenty of sexual references in the work place, even at a young age and he was nothing compared to the other stuff I’ve been subjected to.

            One day the phone rang and it was a very big account calling.  The man never asked for anyone by name so I handled it myself.  I gave the client a full page ad and everything ran smoothly even though I was new and inexperienced.  Well, the boss loved it!  I was happy to be getting a nice chunk of commission on the sale and the boss was happy that I was happy.  Everyone happy, right? Wrong! Bitch in the back room claimed the client as hers.  Instead of coming to me she went bitching to the boss.  And boy, did she bitch.  I could hear her from down the hall.  I also heard the boss defending my honor (more like letting her know I really did play fair and square regarding the account).  She was not having it, so she decided to play dirty. 

Next day the head honcho flew in to determine if her “sexual harassment” claim was valid.  All the supervisors were individually interrogated and then came me.  I am sorry to say…. I broke.  I am easily intimidated by authority, always have been.  So the words I over heard from the fight, came flying out of my mouth before I could catch them, “Don’t push yourself up against me!” said by the bitch to the boss  (my boss, my super star admirer). 

Till this day, I don’t know why I spilled the beans.  It was just easier to say the truth.  I immediately assured the head honcho that my eyes saw absolutely nothing during the spat.  And I believe that the bitch said whatever she had to, to get him fired, but whatever I said just confirmed her story and he was sent packing the next day.  Everything was very hush hush after that.  No one got the real story as to why he had to leave so abruptly.  My supervisors knew because I broke down crying the day he packed his box and she could see the regret in my tears. 

Still to this day its one of my biggest regrets that I didn’t lie for him , but I have a good feeling things worked out for him in the end because our company went under a year later and I heard he got a better job right after the termination.  I like to tell myself that If it hadn’t been for me, he himself wouldn’t have landed the head honcho position else where and I only saved him from a life of boring sales.  I mean, I’m not even sure if he got another job but I try not to think that I ruined his life.  He probably drank uncontrollably and jumped off the GW. No! No! No! It couldn’t be true.

 Meanwhile, I was left with the bitch.  She was outside sales, so I didn’t really have to see her but every time she called into the office, I would disconnect her calls.  She didn’t know about my hostility so she just thought I was lousy at the phones, but I was quietly taking my revenge. 

We had other bosses come in and take his place but no one ever lasted and then the lay offs came.  I was pretty much the first one to go because I was pregnant and the weirdest thing happened; I lost my voice.  It wasn’t as if I was horse.  I was out of breath as soon as I became pregnant.  I couldn’t carry on a sentence, let alone a sales call.  It was the strangest phenomenon.  Even the doctors didn’t get it.  They’ve heard of this happening in the last trimester, when the baby is big and squishing your diaphragm, but this started during my first month.  I just couldn’t get the words out as though someone was choking my vocal cords.  I can’t even begin to tell you how many tests, hospital visits, doctors appointments, and poking and prodding I went through.  No answers.  Just theories as to what was going on.  It could be hormone related, extra blood flow, asthma induced.  Nothing cured me, so I had to go on disability.  My office and my supervisors were ecstatic with this idea.  For weeks everyone’s jobs were threatened. 

We had so many meetings as to who was going to be let go, who should voluntarily leave and how it was only a matter of time for everyone.  A couple of weeks later…I was the pregnant staffer with some kind of health issue going on.  A little light went off in the supervisor’s heads, which didn’t happen to often.  They pulled me in their office and told me they would do everything they could to get me on full disability.  It would all be hush hush and I could go on my way with pay, throughout my whole pregnancy.  Little did I know I came to everyone’s rescue in the office and they’re jobs were saved, for the time being.  It was the most perfect layoff in history.                            

About a year later, the office was completely shut down, like many have due to this crummy economy.   I still struggle with my voice to this day. A voice specialist told me I hold a lot of stress in my vocal cords.  She said she has never seen someone’s larynx clench the way mine does and I could benefit from some speech therapy, but who has time for that?  My son’s therapy comes first and my weird ailments will just have to heal themselves.  After I had Max, my voice went back to normal…for the most part.  A year later, I got pregnant with Jay and you know how I found out I was pregnant before the pee stick? My voice went.  The mysterious aliment was back; full force.  So I’m just chalking this up to one of those strange things that can happen while you’re pregnant.

I never forgot my last job because the women were so passionate about work, our office relationships, sales, everything.  And come to think of it…they were all mothers.  No wonder!

HOME ALONE

HOME ALONE

            I started writing a chapter on friends, but was just distracted by an unfamiliar face at my front door.  He had a clip board in hand, so my immediate reaction was to open the door, see what he was pitching and send him on his way.  But on second thought, that’s how I got myself in trouble last time.  So I checked that the door was locked, ran upstairs to my bedroom and opened the window to yell down to this disturbance.  “Yes! Can I help you?” I yell with my shaky voice.  Between the run up the stairs and my instant nerves, it’s sometimes hard for me to get the simple words out.  He pitches me his window measuring and sealing bit while I pretend to be listening.   How awkward!  I bet the whole neighborhood can hear this conversation and are wondering while I am being pitched to from my upstairs window.  As he continues, he wants to know my name and a time to set up an appointment.  “NO…I’m not giving you my name!”  “But we need your contact information to se t up a time”, he insists.  Now I’m pissed because he just transformed from an innocent contractor hired by my complex, into a strange creepy salesman at my door while its pitch black outside.  I put my foot down and tell him I will Not give him my husbands name (its bad enough I gave him my first name) and he can come back and bother my husband on the weekend.  Please! I dare them to bother the world’s greatest salesman, so I can have a chuckle.  He gets the drift and sneaks off into the night. 

            I’m thanking God right now that I didn’t open the door.  I know we have the best neighborhood watch on the planet with everyone being extremely nosey, including myself, but you never know when they are not watching and someone devious is. 

            I opened my door the last time to a friendly enough looking women.  She told me she would clean my carpet for free.  My carpet, at the time was filthy and I was just thinking about calling sears for a visit.  I was excited to let her in, but then she pulled the old bait and switch.  She called two huge men who looked like they just got released from prison, from around the corner (probably hiding behind a tree), turned to them and said, “ok boys, see ya when you finish” She then gave me the most shady smile and went on her marry way.  I was dumb struck.  For some reason my common sense went right out the window and I let them drag their crusty old vacuum in.  They started moving the furniture and pitched me their cheesy sales routine as to why I needed a three thousand dollar vacuum that looked like it came from the 1950’s.  I immediately called my neighbor to tell her what was going on and to keep a look out for me.  Then I went into panic mode, grabbed the kids and waited outside on my front lawn until they were finished cleaning.  The carpet guys weren’t too happy that they couldn’t give me the full presentation.  I tried to keep an eye on these strangers in my house by hovering in and out to make sure nothing got swiped but the whole ordeal was extremely awkward.  Especially since Jay kept screaming outside because he couldn’t stand the sound of the vacuum (even from a distance).  In the meantime, my neighbor kept calling my house line to find out if I was ok, but I couldn’t hear the phone from outside with Jay screaming in my arms.  She panicked and thought I was in danger, woke up her sleeping two year old who never normally naps and ran outside to rescue me.  To bad she just didn’t look out her window to see I was already outside.  She was relieved but annoyed she didn’t get to enjoy her daughters nap. 

The kids played on the front lawn while my carpet “supposedly” got cleaned.  After they were finished, they wanted contact information to follow up and try to push the expensive vacuum some more, but at that point, my nerves were shot and I told them to put their paper work away because I was signing nothing. 

            An area rug sized portion of my carpet seemed a tiny bit fresher, but it was so not worth it.  I was up all night roaming the internet for their company’s name and guess what?  No such company exists.  I did manage to find out about the vacuum called “the Kirby” and every website warned “Do not let Kirby salesman into your home.”  I didn’t say that they were dangerous.  It just warned of shady sales, bad ingenuity, manipulative sales people, bogus promises, etc.  All those warning seemed very accurate.  Apparently, certain sales companies hire outside sales people to pitch “the Kirby” (a well know vacuum) but these independent contractors make up their own company name and location to seem local to dim witted housewives, like myself. 

            I was a little relieved to find out these salesman do exist and that they are not just complete criminals coming in to do God knows what, but I was horrified with the fact that I let myself be a target for something bad to have possibly happened.  I put my boys and myself at risk and the guilt punched me in the head all night long.  Usually I am on high alert for this sort of shit. 

When I was ten, the meter man knocked on my parent’s back door.  I think I had a head cold at the time and my ears must have been slightly block because I swore he was saying “let me in!” as opposed to saying, “meter man”.  My shaky hands peeled back the blinds and my heart stopped when I witnessed him pounding on the door with a big brick like looking object in his hand.  I ran to call 911 and hid.  Now, years later I can see how it was amusing to some how a swat teem showed up with shot guns, bullet proof vests and the meter man in hand.  “Is this the man?” they smirked.  It was! And since I could see him and his uniform up close, I knew he was not a threat.  The police got a nice hearty laugh, which only fueled my fire.  What the hell was I supposed to do?  I thought he was breaking in.  He was shouting, “Let me in.” 

I managed to get a little sympathy since I was a ten year old girl with sad eyes and big tears, but the joke was on me.  The meter man was told by my mother to always use the back door because she was usually sun bathing back there.  Ew!  Come to think of it, I think she must have been crushing on the meter man (I did have a perverted mother) and his brick like looking weapon turned out to be his meter reading device.  I guess he used to pound on the doors so busy housewives could hear him clearly.  The poor guy wasn’t at all upset by the whole ordeal.  But he did get a nice scare when they pulled him out of the deli across the street with shot guns and sirens.  At least he will get a funny story out of it…while I get made fun of.  Hey, when you have been subjected to as much cops and America’s most wanted on TV by your father (like I was)  then you might be a little paranoid too.   Maybe paranoia is helpful in this day in age.  It’s a creepy world out there and I have to be on high alert, especially for the children. 

I can’t even tell you how many times I ran for the phone or a knife when I see a suspicious man sauntering to close to my front door.  Or how I carry a big case of mace on my key chain.  I’ve never had to use it, thank the lord, but I feel safer knowing its there.  I’m debating a gun in the house, but like my husband Jake says, I’ll wind up shooting the meter man, the ups delivery guy, an innocent bystander or even my husband, himself.  He would probably be the first victim.  He could be my practice target J  So, a gun in the house is not the best idea.  I’ll just have to rely on common sense and safety.  Something I didn’t have the day I let those damn Kirby salesmen in.

WANTING MORE

            I’m trying to remind myself right now that it is my motherly duty in life to clean up the kitchen and then pick up the toys.  It sounds so chauvinistic, but looking at the big picture: I’m in my early thirties, my babies are still babies, I’m young, have my health and a great family.  I shouldn’t be greedy and think: wouldn’t it be awesome to throw on my coat, grab a pack of stogies and head on over to the nearest bar for a drink, maybe scout out some hotties.  NO! No! No! That’s what my twenties were for, but rather, my teenage years since I met my hubby at 19.  I’m a rusher.  So I wanted kids fast.  I mean we lived together for five years before we even got engaged, but even then, I was screaming to get pregnant.  So here I am, 32 years old…ok…35.  Two boys (screaming boys, today).  One has a cold and the other is on antibiotics, which makes for a beast.  The weekend has been relaxing and nice.  Hubby is on the couch watching football and I’ve been searching the Internet for literary agents and now releasing my thoughts. 

            I’m still 50/50.  50% wants to be out and 50% wants to be snuggled up at home.  It’s kind of painful being a cancer and a Leo.  My horoscope is on the cusp, which means my crab and lion fight a lot.  The crab (cancer) wins out most of the time.  This means the sensitive homebody is dominant, but the lion (Leo) is a good fighter.  The lion would take me to a whole new world.  Explore, take over, and be fearless.  The lion was my movie star and the crab (cancer) is my home and family.  Personally, I like the lion though…she has some pretty good stories to tell.

            Looking for a literary agent sucks.  I’ve already received fifty rejection emails within the past two months.  I keep trying to change my query letter, but I know they suck.  Writing a brief synopsis of an entire book doesn’t seem to be my thing.  I had an agent call me months ago.  He was interested in my novel, however I had no proof that he was legit.  I couldn’t find anything about him on the internet and his web site was extremely vague and shady looking.  So when my husband Jake said, “I bet he’ll call you from a private number.” I had my guard up, big time.  And so, the next day, he called…from a private number.  I was prepared and in bitch mode.  I interrogated the man.  Where are you from?  Who have you published?  Why aren’t you on the internet?  Why are you calling and asking me what I would like to see happen with my book?  Well, isn’t it obvious jack off  I want it published legitimately.  I didn’t say it in those words of course, but my no bullshit tone was obvious. 

     After an hour on the phone with him explaining the in’s and out’s of the publishing industry, he started to sound official and I couldn’t believe his patients with me.  Well! Any scammer is going to have the patients of a saint, and I’m from Jersey, so this guy better think twice.  He said his crew was going to review the book and see if they had the funds to edit, promote and publish…yada...yada.  My husband, Jake was silently on 3-way listening to the whole conversation and when we hung up with the publisher, Jake started criticizing that I was way to harsh and how “the agent” sounded real enough to him.  That made me nervous and annoyed since Jake was the one who insinuated he was a scam from the start.  He told me that if he was a legitimate publisher, I most likely lost my chance since I was rude. 

            I got an email from the guy the next day that my novel was not in the budget and he’ll keep me in mind..yada..yada.  But you know what!  So what if I lost a chance!  If my gut told me it was shady from the start, well then maybe and most likely…it was.  I mean…If you operate your business to where your potential client originally thought you were a scammer, then how good could your business be?  Everything happens for a reason.  That’s what I’ll just keep telling myself.  In the meantime, take care of your boys, work your part time job and keep trying as long as you have the stamina for it.  That’s what I’ll tell myself.  Good things come to those who wait, right?  Don’t’ be greedy and enjoy the good life you are living right now.  But its human nature to want more.  Isn’t that what keeps us going! 

                So many questions.  It feels good to get them out on paper.  So I can look back at what an idiot I am.  I’m just being factitious…it’s good to question yourself.  It’s good to have deep thoughts.  I would like to consider myself a “deep thinker” rather than just a “stay at home mom”.  No wonder “they” say the stay at home moms in the 1950’s were miserable.  How can you take pride in cleaning all day?  It should be about whatever makes you happy and if cleaning and cooking and tending to the children make you happy then more power to you.  But most people need a hobby.  Some men fix cars or follow sports and some women sew clothes or join the PTA, but I guess you need something outside of the home to make you whole.  I’m trying to be a writer, however there is no recognition unless you are published.  So that’s my goal for now.  Last year it was to sell my townhouse.  I failed miserably.  I’m still sitting in this small two bedroom box.   I try not to put all the blame on myself.  The economy is resembling the depression and the real estate market has taken one of the worst hits it has ever seen. 

We bought at the height of the market.  When the realtor's where rolling in commission, now 5 years later, we are trying to sell while the real estate market has crashed.  Besides the fact that we would lose a ton of doe, we are in competition with ten other unites in our development and I mean the same exact townhouses for sale.  It’s not like a house, where your lay out may appeal to different types.  NO! We are set up exactly the same and we all have been sitting for sale for years now. 

In the beginning I spent countless hours on the multiple listing website searching for my dream home and boy did I find them.  Them, meaning I have found my dream home so many times.  And they all eventually sold while my house just sat on the market, untouched.  Each sale of my dream home, each open house my realtor had or we hosted ourselves, each appointment made where I spent so much energy trying to make my home look just right for a potential buyer, was heart-breaking.  Not even mentioning all the fights I had with Jake to get him to list with a realtor.  He doesn’t want to sell.  He’s happy were he is.  Plus, he doesn’t want to lose the money, but I’m in this tiny house all day with two boys and surrounded by toys.  A lot of people in this community are the same age, going through the same thing.  We all want out because we have no room. I guess the people who have lost their jobs aren’t complaining about whatever roof they have over their heads, just as long as they have one.  Jake reminds me of that whenever I start complaining about real estate.  He groins, “You don’t know how lucky you are.”  It’s pretty much the same lecture I give my little guy Max, when he won’t eat his food, “Other kids don’t have anything to eat.”

I hate when I get lectured to like I am the child.  He’s right and all.  But I want a pity party because I failed at getting our house sold and it puts a bad taste in my mouth because if I can fail at something small like that, well then, I certainly can fail at the big things in life.  I don’t even want to mention them.