Alternate title: I Couldn’t Make This Shit Up If I Tried.

Recently I started chatting with a nice enough guy from an online dating site.  We had chatted just over IM, but he seemed nice, smart, and his picture was cute.  Plus, his emails made sense. 

I told him about this blog as 1) it’s a great way to let someone get to know me rather quickly without having to actually TALK to them and 2) I’m proud of the darn thing.  For better or for worse, it has become a big part of my life.  Little did I know this might be as close to “for better or for worse” as I will ever get!

It had been a couple days since I last talked to him and then all the sudden, Tuesday night, I got this note:

rj: Hey just wanted to say I was reading your blog tonight.  I was kinda weirded out by the whole you’re in love with you kids feet.  I dont think we’ll be talking again.  Good luck to you in the future.

Nope.  I’m not lying.  And sadly no, this wasn’t embellished for the sake of comedy.  It was a sheer copy and paste, my friends.  Welcome to my life.

He was offline by the time I got back upstairs but I did write back:

princessmikkimoto: Are you serious???
princessmikkimoto: It was a joke… I mean I like my kid’s feet but I don’t have a fetish!

To which he later replied:

rj: sorry i have to call them like i see them.  good luck in the future

Ouch.

So NOW… I’m not only still VERY single, I’m also a pedophile.  Cheers.

Sadly, this poor sap was one of the few and the unfortunate to be born without a sense of humor.  I wonder if he could get surgery for that.

My lesson learned and the silver lining from this little morsel of bizarreness, is that perhaps I should wait until AFTER I meet the blokes, to share The Blog.  That way they can just dump me for being the Nut Job that I am, and this blog, just the icing on the cake.  

And I should really thank him for the great writing material.  I have been dumped before in many different and crazy ways.  But this one?  Well so far, this one wins.

Not So Wordless Wednesday

(The other day I got a nice little note from Facebook.  “You have been tagged in a picture by Aaron….” So imagine my horror when I log onto Facebook and find this little gem of myself and my Sorority Sistas at some Fraternity Gala in another land, far far away.  Yes, I’m the one in that HOT dress with the huge red bows. ON THE SLEEVES!  Aaron, once I regain consciousness I’ll get you for this!  Don’t you know silly boy?  College picture paybacks are a bitch.)

Sunday evening Ben and I headed out for a BBQ at my parent’s house.  We were both donned in our usual summer gear; t-shirt, shorts and flip flops.  As I was locking the door Ben stopped and said, “You know, if we were wearing better shoes we could just walk to Grandma and Grandpa’s house.”  To which I replied, “Well, let’s change our shoes!  That’s a great idea.”

We went back inside, changed our shoes and grabbed a plastic bag?  Why a bag?  So we could pick up trash!  ON. OUR. WALK!   (As I type this, the tree outside my window, is winking and giving me the thumbs up.)

I must admit that collecting litter on the way there and back was all Ben’s idea.  I think the John Lennon/Rabbi/Peter Paul and Mary camp (otherwise known as Camp Shalom) is wearing off on him.  Now if we could just get his Hebrew down a little better…  

I was in charge of the left side of the sidewalk while Ben was in charge of the right.   The child was relentless.  Everytime I would space out and god forbid LOOK AT A CUTE HOUSE FOR SALE, he was all, “Are you even looking Mother?!  YOU NEED TO LOOK FOR TRASH!”   Al Gore has nothing on this kid.  His new Indian name is ”Lover Of The Earth”.  Or LOTE for short. 

The original idea was to collect trash on the walk to my parents house, throw it out there and get a new bag for the way back.  But since we had gone this earthy crunchy, I decided, why not seal the Tree Hugger deal and USE THE SAME BAG ON THE WAY BACK.  Why waste TWO plastic bags?!   Therefore the bag was left on my parent’s front steps and after dinner picked up to collect trash on the way home.   Oh yeah.  We are THAT good.

So, to all of you Earth Sinners out there, that tossed your cigarette butts out the car window or drove two blocks to the store this weekend, Ben and I got your back. 

This time. 

And yes, you’re welcome.

I’m baaaack.  Whew!

Thanks for all for your comments and emails full of well wishes, encouragement and insight. 
This Internet thing is pretty gosh darn great.  I think it might just catch on.

In addition to you all, these things helped clear away those dark scary clouds this weekend.

This guy helped:

These feet being on my lap most of the weekend certainly helped:

I have a crush on Ben’s feet.  They have had this power over me since they first came out of my womb.  I can’t explain why but they are one of my favorite things in life.

Sitting in these chairs at the pool for a large chunk of the weekend helped immensely:

This IM conversation with my dear friend Dennis helped:
Dennis: you are a good friend… I am so sorry to see you go though a tough time.
Me: Oh I’ll be fine.  Really.
Dennis: What about doing to dinner this next week?
Me: Yes please. 
D: oh shit… I see bubbles floating past my bedroom window that means Parker is outside.
me: Uh oh
D: blowing bubbles
me: LOL
D: shit… be right back
D: he’s blowing bubbles at the bears in the forest.
me: And here I thought you were having a stroke.  Seeing bubble pass by your window.
D: it looks like a bubble blizzard outside my window…. that little spaz better not hyperventilate from all the frantic bubble blowing.

Dropping the boy off at his Grandparents house for a couple hours on Sunday so I could get a mani and pedi did wonders!

And getting completely 100% emersed in this book certainly helped. 

Along with this Internet thing, this book might just become a big hit.   I think it would make a great movie too.  But that’s just me. 

I knew I was truly back when strolling around the grocery store, eating my lunch from all the free samples, I was actually smiling (SMILING!) at people who ran into me instead of wishing for their demise.

So again, thank you all and thank you Clouds for going on your merry way.   And ah, no need to come back another day.

Wanna hear a story?

Once upon a time there was a young girl living in Minneapolis.  It was the summer of 1996 and the girl was 24.  For the very first time in her life, she was living in her own apartment without roommates.  She was a little nervous but excited about this big change.  Unfortunately that summer, the good times didn’t last long.  It seemed that all at once her friends began to move away from their once tight circle in Minneapolis.  One went to Colorado to run the “Taste of Colorado”.  One moved to Chicago for work.  One moved to Omaha, also for work and yet another moved to Phoenix; for her now husband.  The girl found herself all alone.  All alone in her now creepy and sad apartment. 

She began to have panic attacks.  She didn’t know what they were and was so afraid that she didn’t tell anyone about what was going on.  She thought she was going crazy and if anyone found out what was happening they would lock her up in the loony bin.  Forever!  Therefore, the panic attacks turned to depression.   A deep seeded, sunken into yourself, painful depression. 

Things got so bad, the girl eventually stopped eating.  Her stomach was in such knots from the anxiety and depression that there would be days when all she could eat was a banana; which took 45 minutes to get down.   It got to the point where she was buying Ensure in order to get some nutrients in her and hopefully stop the dizziness that stemmed from not eating.

Finally, her friends at work noticed something was off.  This once happy, go-lucky fun girl was now just a shell of her former self.  The girl’s boss took her into the office and asked her to call a help line that was a service though work.  When the girl got home that day she made the call.  It was an action that changed her life.  She spoke to a man on the other line who knew exactly how to help her and put her in touch with a group and a wonderful therapist who helped her deal with the dark clouds in her closet. 

The girl, happy to be diagnosed as not going crazy and just dealing what so many people go through, dove into therapy and self help.  And finally, late that fall, she started to feel like herself again.

Ever since those dark summer days, 10 years ago, the girl never takes happy moments for granted and tries in any way she can to help others that suffer from the cruelty of depression and anxiety.

This girl is now a woman and a mother who much of the time is happy.  She tries to remember to take her medication every day; even though sometimes she thinks she doesn’t need to.   Occasionally, however, a dark cloud comes around again and rears it’s ugly head.  The woman knows it’s only temporary, knows what it is and luckily doesn’t panic anymore.  Instead she puts her head down and pushes her way through the cloud… until she is on the other side where the skies are blue. 

This woman is blessed to have a boy that makes her laugh and friends who can tell when it’s overcast for her.  At those times they pat her back, either virtually or physically, and say “Is your depression bad?  Are you taking your meds?”  and the girl smiles, thanks God for them and says “Yes.  I am.  And I’ll be fine soon.”

I promise this blog will get back to it’s regularly scheduled funny antidotes of bad hair, questionable parenting and crazy dating stories soon.  I just have to wait for the skies to clear and the weather pattern to change. 

To anyone out there suffering, know you’re not alone.  Even those funny, seemingly always happy people are working through their shit too. 

Hang in there.  I am.

Wordless Wednesday

I’m writing this post at 2:33AM when I should be sleeping.  Not awake at my computer.  I’m tired, I think, but I can’t sleep. 

I have always been the best sleeper.  My mother used to look at me with such envy with her tired, 4 hour sleep eyes.  I was one of those people who when my head would hit the pillow, in roughly three minutes I’d be out until my alarm went off in the morning.   I got this gift from my father and luckily Ben has it too.

Sadly, I think I have been kicked out of their club.

Maybe it’s just a phase.  Maybe it’s just because it’s summer and it feels like 120 degrees in here even though yes, the air is on.   Maybe it’s because I woke up to go to the bathroom and now I can’t get back to sleep because I’m thinking about work tomorrow and my car that desperately needs to get fixed but where am I going to get the extra cash and when was my last blog post about and oh yeah, that, and what date is it and when does my MG&E bill come and wow how much is that going to be with the air running all the time and but why is it still so hot in here and what are all of Ben’s activities this week and does he have the right clothes clean for those activities and what great comeback can I give back to Josh the next time he tells me Global Warming isn’t real and STOP!  JUST SHHHHHHHHHH!  Be done!

Or maybe this is the time I kiss my father’s genes goodbye and get on my mothers insomniac bandwagon.  And thank you Mr. Brain because now I’m going to be thinking about that until my alarm goes off.

Sigh.

To all those sleeping.  I’m jealous.  To those of us in this world awake at now 2:47AM on a Tuesday morning… Hi.

Sometimes I forget that I didn’t just make Ben by myself.  Sometimes I forget that I didn’t just want him so badly and had so much love to give that I just made myself spontaneously pregnant.   I honestly forget that there is this whole other side to Ben.  Half of him isn’t my DNA.  Isn’t my genes.  Nights like tonight I remember. 

We had a fun night at Jason and Joe’s; having dinner, playing cards and watching movies.   When after three hours we leave, Ben’s eyes are crimson red and his nose is so stuffed up he sounds like Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer with his fake nose. 

“Bommy.  Can weeb go bow?”  

Ben is allergic to their cat and I have forgotten to bring his Claritin.  I have forgotten is because I do not have allergies and never have been allergic to anything (expect the occasional Republican) so I didn’t think to bring something with us or pre-medicate him before we left.  Ben has terrible seasonal allergies and now, apparently, allergies to cats.  I ponder this on the way home and wonder how he could be like this when I’m not, nor are my parents.  Then it hits me.  There is a whole other side to my boy that I always forget about.  His father. 

Ben’s father and I dated briefly when I lived in Minneapolis.  He was a sweet, gentle and luckily for Ben, an amazingly good looking man.  And I was head over heels for him.  Sadly this feeling wasn’t reciprocated.  He broke up with me and a week later I found out I was pregnant.   I always knew I wanted kids, so as scary and nerve wracking as it was to be single and pregnant, I also knew it would be OK whether he was in our lives or not.  And he chose not to be.   Ben’s father has never met Ben, has never talked to him, has never given me a dime and the last email correspondence I had with him was in 2002. 

When Ben was one, I had his father’s parental rights terminated.  Myself and my parents wanted to be sure he could never come back and say, “That’s my kid.” 
After the court hearing, where the Judge said “I’ll give Mr. ______ ten more minutes to show up.”  and I muttered to my lawyer, “If he walks through those doors I’ll grow wings and fly around this court room.”,  my parents and I went out to breakfast with our baby Ben and toasted over coffee that he would always be 100% mine.

Sometimes Ben asks about his father.  When he was little he used to say, “Do I have a dad?”  and I would simply say, “Yes, you do.  But he doesn’t live with us.  And you know what?  You don’t need a dad.  You have me and Grandma and Grandpa and you are a very lucky and special boy who doesn’t need a dad.”

These days, he’ll still sometimes ask me out of the blue, ”Do I have a dad?  Where is he?”  And I will say, “Honestly honey, I don’t know.  I think he lives in Minnesota.”   And that is where the conversation ends.  When you have never had something, you don’t know what you are missing.  If you were born with just one arm you might ask what happened to your lost arm but you wouldn’t miss it because you would never know what it was like to have two arms.   

Someday Ben will want more answers.  I know this to be true.  I have all of his father’s information (birth date, social security number, etc) and in today’s world it would take us $20 and maybe 30 minutes to find him.

Until then, we’ll deal with the allergies and other aliments that might not stem from my gene pool.  I will happily deal with it all and more.  Because I know, I am the one who has the world’s sweetest boy who wants to kiss my toe when I stub it on the dresser.  I am the one that has a boy that will say, ”You are the best Mommy ever!” when I tuck him into a bed with clean sheets.   I am the one who gets my Ben and doesn’t have to share him.

And that is all that truly matters and all I have ever wanted.

I’m pretty sure that because I loaned a woman sunscreen at the pool last weekend, the Good Karma gods were looking down on Ben and I yesterday.  First his pink eye cleared up quite quickly (ain’t modern medicine grand?) And secondly, thanks to a very nice girl at Supercuts, who took one look at me, checked the calendar to make sure it wasn’t 1974 and therefore proceeded to take off 2 inches of my bad haircut, my mullet is now a thing of the past.  Just a bad dream. 

And thank goodness Carol Brady left the building because I had Shelly’s very fun birthday party to attend last night. 

Shelly realized how old she had just turned and fell right out of her chair!

 Oh there you are honey.  Welcome back. 

 You get a kiss for being upright!

Happy Birthday dear friend. 

I hope when you blew out your candles your wish was that this will be the year we get our shine under control. 

Oh yesterday, you devilish little day you.  You weren’t supposed to have any Bad or Ugly in you.  You were just supposed to be ALL good.

It was pay day with my new raise, our boss took us out to lunch for a job well done AND I was getting my haircut after work. 

Normally, I LOVE getting my haircut.  Pamper me, touch me, gloss me… bring it on! 

This time though, my happy hair ending didn’t exactly happen.  When I got to the salon, Blake (I have changed his name to prevent a lawsuit or really bad haircuts for years to come) was busy as usual and finishing up the woman ahead of me.  I was happy to wait.  I WAS GETTING MY HAIRCUT AND IT WAS GOING TO BE SO CUTE!!
At last when I finally got into the chair I joked and said “My hair is such a nightmare.  I don’t care what you do as long as you get rid of the gray and cut most of it off!  Oh and I rather not have a perm.”  I kidded with ease.  Ah, such a stupid girl.  Famous last words.

Blake was NOT having a good day.  He was VERY backed up as I learned by him answering my question of, “How are you?”  with “I’ve been better.  I was on vacation last week and now I have clients stacked on top of each other from now until god knows when.” 

When I looked over and saw three people sitting in the waiting room, ALL FOR HIM, I got nervous.  When the other woman working there said, “Blake, can I help at all?”  and he said very tersely “No.” I knew I was screwed.

After the color (which I do love) he went to town on my hair.  And by “to town” I mean he was taking out ALL his anger and frustration of the day on my locks.  At one point he looked like Edward Scissorhands as he was taking the thinning sheers to the top of my head.   Hair was flying everywhere and I couldn’t see because in addition to my new bangs that are the size of Texas, I had little pieces of hair in my eyes.

When he finally cleared away enough so I could catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I muttered with slight horror, “Oh wow.  I, um, have a mullet.” 
“It’s not a mullet.”  Blake said annoyed.  “A mullet would look like THIS!”  and he pulled the sides of my hair up to my eyes.
“Oh ok.  Yeah… ha ha.. you’re so right.”

After the blow dry, and more thinning and some hair goop, we were done and it took everything I had in me not to cry. 

This is me:

Ok, I exaggerate.  I’m not blonde.  But otherwise, this is me.  

If tonight I was headed to The Roller Rink wearing my Shawn Cassidy t-shirt and my rainbow leg warmers, I would be fighting them off with a stick.  But you see, I’m not.  Tonight I’m going to my BFF’s birthday party in the year 2008.  Where hopefully the cute boy that I invited will show up. And call me crazy but I would rather NOT remind him of “Marcia Marcia Marcia’s” mother. 

When I got to my parents house in tears of half laughter and half pain, I found I wasn’t the only one with water in their eyes.
“Ben!  What’s wrong?”
“Oh, he has this note with him from camp.”  said my mom.  “I guess his eye started watering right after swimming and it hasn’t stopped.”
“I hope it’s not pink eye!”  I said taking a closer look.  “We’ll just keep an eye on it honey.”

When we got home, I tried to deal with the hair.  That worked well.  After I washed and dried it , it then looked like this:

As I came downstairs to show Ben how pretty his mommy was, I noticed his eye was now worse.

“Ok, we are going to immediate care…”

So off we went.  Little Pink Runny Eye with his mother Big Bad Frizzy 70’s Hair.   This is one of those times that you pray to whatever Higher Power there may be that you don’t run into your ex-boyfriend.

Luckily, the doctor ruled out pink eye but did say that Ben’s allergies were at an all time high and prescribed an eye drop and an allergy medicine.  

So the good news is Ben doesn’t have pink eye and took his medicine like a champ once we got home.

Bad news: I gave half his college tuition to Walgreen’s for these medicines that he’ll continue to have to take most likely for the rest of the summer.

And the ugly?  Oh, that’s just me.

Does anyone have roller skates I can borrow? 

***********************UPDATE*********************

Ben DOES have Pink Eye (thank you doctor!) and I’m still ugly.