if you were hip, you wouldn't use the word hip.

I hate when people try too hard to be cool.  To be hip, to be with it.  Like it's so obvious when it's not authentic.


If you were hip, you wouldn't really use the word hip, would you?


I think actually being cool is having a mixture of confidence, authenticity and attitude.  Like, an "I don't care what you think of me," attitude.  And confident originality.


That's so not me.


I am not the least bit cool.  98.6% of the time I am pretty much a blundering idiot.

I'm not super confident, and I even though I might act like I don't care what you think of me, I really do on the inside.  Don't tell anyone.  But I do think I am very authentic.  So I guess by my definition, I am approximately 1/3 cool, 2/3 socially awkward.


Back in the day, when I guess I was semi-cool,  I felt like a fraud.  If I ever came off as confident or original, or like I had an attitude, it was totally from a different place than authentic.  It was good acting at its best, and that's pretty much it.

But who really is that confident anyway?  Does anyone really, truly not care what other people think of them?  We all have to have some measure of insecurity, somewhere.  Don't we? 

I remember when I was in high school, there was this girl.  She was so pretty, and so smart and so athletic.  She so looked like she had everything that any girl could want.  There was never a day that she didn't look great, pulled together, like everything was that easy.  She was cool.  I was quietly envious of her bold confidence, I wished I could be like that.  As grown ups, we are friends.  And she recently mentioned that she often felt very insecure.  It kind of shocked all of us in the room, because you never would have known that.  

So how is it that even though she was probably just as insecure as I was, she could walk into a room with her head up, daring anyone to mess with her, and I would make a conscious effort to slide quietly in, hoping nobody would notice me?

I don't know where confidence comes from.  Like I really don't.  Is it learned?  Is it just in you?

I really want my kids to be confident.  One of my kids right now just tries so hard to fit in, it's almost painful to watch.  This one will just be devastated at anything that could be considered a slight, that someone doesn't want to be friends, that that someone doesn't want to play.  The worst part is, this child of mine is very likeable, very fun, funny and original with lots of great thoughts and ideas. 

It's hard to sit by and watch.  I have no idea how to teach her to be confident.

Do you think it's hard to play the air guitar?

Don't you think it's funny when people use air quotes?

Maybe they feel it gets their point across better?




I could get this for Abby!

My niece Abby used to use air quotes inappropriately, like when they really made no sense.  She was still trying to grasp the concept I guess.  She'd say something like, "Can you believe that for (insert air quotes now) Christmas, Julian wants an air guitar?!" (True story.  An air guitar was on my nephew's list one year.)

Like she was air quoting "Christmas."

It always makes me chuckle to myself when people do that.  Air quote I mean.

Speaking of air guitar, Alex actually pulled out an air harmonica the other day on the thruway.  We were rocking out to something cool, and he started air harmonica-ing.

He's very cool like that.

Speaking of air guitaring one final time, my sister used to go out with this guy, I can't name his name, because, what if Cod forbid he ever stumbled across this blog and thought I was making fun of him.  I mean, I am.  Making fun of him.  But I don't exactly want to make fun of him to his face.  Because that would be mean.  And it's not nice to be mean.  But anyway, she used to go out with this guy who air guitared all of the time and it was so embarrassing.  He was a Zeppelin fan, and he would play it incessantly on his car stereo.  He would get so into it.  Like, why.  Why must you do such a thing?

Incidentally, I see him around town every so often, and I have this insane desire to just turn up the volume on a random LZ tune, and see if he still does it.  I wonder if he taught his kids.

So do you think it's hard to play the air guitar?

A lot of times, I want to punch them in the face

*disclaimer* This is a little whiney.  Sorry.  But I am venting. And sometimes vents involve whining.  Or whining with wine.  And if wine is involved, I'll take the pinot.  A little ice would be good.

Something that I am kind of sensitive about is the fact that I don't work.

I always feel like I have to justify it.  Like, "We felt it was best for our family," or,  "We didn't want anyone else to raise our kids," or  "We are fortunate enough to be able to manage with one income," and then the old faithful, "Alex has such a crazy unusual schedule, there's no way we could make it work if both of us had jobs." Blahblahblah. 

We, of course, because if I said I, then it makes me sound like I don't want to work.  That it was all my decision.  And I get the feeling that some people in my life think that because I don't actually go to work (at a real job), I am lazy.

But the thing is, those are the facts.  And I totally resent it when people insinuate that I don't want to work.  Like I have no ambition, no drive, no need to do anything other than drop my kids off at school and sweep my fucking house all day.  Those are the people that I want to punch in the face.  But I don't.  Because I'm nice.  And controlled.  And I'm just a little bit scared that it would hurt my fist.

I wrestle with the desire to have a "real job" vs. the desire to be here to take care of my family all of the time.

The thing is, we made the conscious decision to let Alex's work be a priority. And in all honesty, sometimes I wonder if that was the best decision.  If it was fair, to me.  When Alex went to Law School, I still worked.  So did he.  He worked all day, then went to class at night.  It was a pretty brutal four years.  But me furthering my education definitely took a back seat.

And then more kids came and Alex's career became more demanding and we just fell into this pattern.  This pattern of me always being here, dealing with things because that was what was easiest.  And the sucky thing is, now I feel like it's too late for me.  I've been out of the work field for like 6 years now.  Who would want to hire me?

It's too late for me.

Partly because I have waffled for so long on what I really want to be when I grow up, but also because now I feel like I'm too old.  I know, I know.  Old people go back to college.  But I just feel like if I did, I'd be 45 (!!) when I finished.  Then what?  Get a "real job" when half the people out there are thinking retirement?  What if I couldn't hack college?  I've been out of school for so long, what if it was too hard?  What if I failed?

I have a ridiculous fear of failure.  So my usual M.O. is to just quit before I fail.  Which in actuality, is failure in itself.

And what do I want to be anyway?

Then the guilt comes.  The guilt of why isn't this enough.  Like really.  Why isn't this enough?

I just feel like something isn't right.  The balance is messed up and my side of the scale is empty.

I'm not jealous, or resentful.  Or maybe I am a little.  I certainly don't blame anyone.  I mean, I realize that it could be worse.  I realize that this is a stupid thing to complain about.  I realize how lucky I am. 

But I feel like life is too short.  I'm seeing that now.  My foot is one step closer to the grave every single day, and the reality is: I'm not 100% content.

I need to figure out what makes me happy.  Where my place is.  And what is missing.  As much as I love being a mother and a wife, I think I need something else too, for just me.  And I shouldn't feel bad for wanting/needing that, to make me complete.

So why is it that I feel like I sound like a selfish, whiney jerk?

This is my VENTING post, because we are on V at Jenny Matlock's Alphabe-thursday.

the cry

This is kind of how I feel today...

Is it mean to take a picture of your child when she is crying?

I don't know, I was sitting across the room, messing with my camera, and Brooke and Megan were playing.  I was taking pictures of them, fooling around with my new camera and the light and the settings.  Pretty much one minute they were laughing and the next, Brooke was crying.  Like out of the blue.

I finally got it out of her that she was crying because her skin hurt (it's very dry).  So I was trying to make her laugh by being silly.  And the light in the room was kind of pretty too.

Then she was like, "Take a picture of me crying!"

So, what's a Mom to do?

The cry only lasted a minute or two. 

Then they were back to messing around.

Then Brooke asked me to take a picture of her smiling her best smile.  So I did. 

And I took one of her sister too.

asshat

So, you know, I don't swear much.  I don't yell much.  I don't fight much.

I'm a pretty quiet, non-confrontational girl most of the time.  It takes a lot to get me in a tizzy.

Wait, let me clarify.  It takes absolutely nothing to get me in a mental tizzy.  I am in a mental tizzy pretty much constantly.  But a real live genuine tizzy, where I might get all fresh or mouthy with someone doesn't happen too often at all.  Realistically, maybe once a year or so.  And that's being generous.

Let me clarify one more time.  I can get fresh and mouthy with my husband more than once a year.  Because sometimes it is necessary for me to spew my thoughts and feelings on things that he does that bug me so I don't hate his guts.  And sometimes, that involves me being fresh and mouthy.  I think that is healthy.  To spew.  Occasionally.  Sorry hon.

I am so controlled in public though.

But I am waiting for the perfect opportunity to call someone an asshat.

Well.  I know it's pretty rude.  And I know I mentioned that I'm not really a name caller.  Or a (public) swearer.  But you have to admit, asshat is a great thing to call someone who is really being an ass(hat).

Don't you think?

I mean, I wonder who made it up.  (urbandictionary.com?) Who had the insight to put those two words that don't really go together, together?  And why do I find it so funny?

I'm 98.6% positive that it would make me feel better if I had to pull it out of my pocket and use it on someone.

I'll let you know if it happens.

i always knew those girl scouts had it out for me



Oh great...



They are here.



The resident Girl Scout isn't sure which cookie she should start with first.





Brooke knows exactly which one she is starting with.



I'm not indecisive at allwhen it comes to Girl Scout cookies.  Samoas had me at hello.



Unfortunately for me, just glancing at these bad boys will add pounds to my body.

Which Girl Scout cookie is irresistible to you?



Is it really that offensive to say Indians?

I hate worrying about being politically correct all of the time. 

Is it really that offensive to say Indians?  My sister Ali who is a second grade teacher, said that we have to call Indians Native Americans.  I'm sorry, but I think that's dumb.  Indians were Indians forever.  So what's the big freaking deal?  No offense to any Indians who might read my blog.  Maybe if an Indian does read my blog, they could explain if it is offensive or not and why.  Because I just don't get it.  Really.

And so like now I have to say "height challenged" if someone is short??  My husband is short-ish (we're eye to eye at about 5'7), and I call it like I see it.  I don't call him a midget.  I think midget sounds sort of derogatory, so I don't say it.  In fact, his shortness isn't even noticeable unless he's standing next to a super tall guy.  He doesn't look short, in my opinion.  Because he's not petite.  If he were petite, he might look short.  But he's kind of stocky, so his shortness gets thrown off balance by his build.  And what's wrong with the word "short" anyway?

I think the main thing is that people just need to be respectful and thoughtful of other people's feelings.  I am pretty much very against name calling.  Like, in all honesty, I remember calling my sister Ali flat as a board to get her upset when we were teenagers if we were in a fight.  For example, "At least I'm not as flat as a board!"  That's so mean!  And also really very unoriginal.  Sorry Al.  Probably it was because I always wished that I was as flat as a board.  Big boobs are definitely over rated in my opinion. 

So name calling is pretty unacceptable in my house.  Except for on occasion when I have to call one of the other adults who lives here an asshole.  But in my defense, it's almost always justified.  But really that is hardly ever.  And sometimes it's even said a little bit affectionately. 

One time I spell/called Kara the B word and I will never live it down.  I never actually said the B word, just spell/called her it.  In fact if my memory serves me correctly, I didn't necessarily spell/call her a B, I said, "you are acting like such a B."   You would have thought I lit her hair on fire and threw her off the back porch with how hurt and offended she was.  She wrote a huge entry about it in her diary.  In my defense, it was so very justified because she was being such a nasty teen-aged brat and pushing every freaking button that I had in me, but I do still feel guilty.  Sorry Kar.  Love you!  I don't think you are a B!

I'm not very violent at all.  I have never been in a real fight, unless if you consider pulling hair and pinching with my sisters when we were kids.  However I was definitely in a hair pulling stand off with one of my sisters in high school and it sure felt pretty violent.  And one time about six years ago I threw an Allen wrench at Alex in anger.  On the plus side, I have bad aim so there was never an Allen wrench to head connection.

Trust me, he deserved it.

And even though I may have been a little hormonal and pregnant at the time, it was absolutely necessary.  And I may even have screamed like an unrecognizable crazy person in the moment.  I do not feel proud.  Sorry hon.  I meant to miss your head. 

Wait.  All of a sudden this post went from my irritation at constantly feeling the pressure to be PC, to being a confessional about some of the not so finer moments in my life.

Well, in the spirit of confessing, I also once threw my sister Jenney's Puff the Magic Dragon record down the stairs and broke it because I was mad at her.  I know she cried and I felt so guilty but I don't even think I said sorry.  Because I was a defiant brat sometimes.  And I hated to admit I was wrong and I hated to say sorry.  But even though it might be about 30+ years late, sorry Jenney.  I'll never do it again.  I think I really learned my lesson.

I was going to buy Jenney a replacement Puff the Magic Dragon record on ebay and my nephew Jules (her son) beat me to it.  He stole my apology glory.  But that's OK.  I think she felt my verbal apology and accepted it.  And how cute is my apology-thieving nephew Jules anyway? 

This is such a random post.  I don't even know what to title it.

On a completely other subject, do you feel like I over-use commas when I write?  Sometimes my comma use really concerns me. 

oh my cod i put a jinx on modern family

This was the first email I found in my inbox this morning:

Can you please take Cameron out of your pocket, divorce Gloria's voice, leave Phil Dunphy alone and stop blogging about Modern Family.

When I say I want you to stop jinxing the show I mean it.... Or I will poke your eyes out!
The show has been great every week and then you blog about it and it stunk.

John


Well.  Number one, John actually read one of my posts and felt it worthy of some sort of response!  But number two, Oh my Cod I may have jinxed Modern Family.

 

My BIL John's email was referring to this post, when I spewed my love of all things Modern.  I actually thought the same exact thing last night as I sat on my couch watching it.  Because really, I typically laugh approximately 11-15 times every 15 minutes or so, and the laugh factor was not nearly as high last night.  I maybe only laughed a few times.

It must have been an off night for Cam, Phil and Gloria.  It has to be that.  I can't take one off night and just throw the whole family out of my line up.  That would be a crime.  I can't just let one lack luster performance make me break up with them forever (however, I may have done that in the past.  But that is the kind of post you might not want your mother to read).

And Kristina P, I know that I totally used all of my Wonder Twin powers to convince you to try out the show, but please excuse last night.  It isn't reflective of their usual comedic genius.  I know it sounds like I am just making excuses for Cam, Phil and Gloria, really I do.  Just, if you watched last night, you have to give them another chance.

Just one more chance.  I've forgiven them already.

I couldn't possibly have quit coffee today of all days

Have you ever wanted to go all blanket party on someone?  Even though what they are doing to bother you isn't really their fault?

Yeah, well that was me feeling blanket party-ish this morning at 2 a freaking clock in the morning.  And the unsuspecting victim was Alex. 

This is an example of the way most of my night went.

So the thing is, Alex got strep throat.  He is hardly ever sick, and if he is, he sucks it up and goes about his business.  Because he is very important.  And his firm might fall apart around all of us if he took a sick day.  He has only taken a sick day three times in the 15-ish years that we have been married.  I am not exaggerating.  And this past Monday was the third time.

So anyway, poor guy had a raging fever.  The last time he had strep was when he had to take the bar exam, about 9 years ago.  I was so excited he had strep and was so sick because I was positive he was going to fail the bar and then I thought he would have the perfect excuse for failing.  Not that I don't believe in him or anything, but he NEVER freaking studied.  He is such a procrastinator.  Even the Magic 8 ball was wishy-washy on whether he would pass or not.  It would not give us a straight answer!  Damn Magic 8 ball.  I think he finally studied a little bit the last week before the exam because the wishy-washy-ness of the Magic 8 Ball freaked him out.  Anyway, he passed, so we never had to use the "I had a raging fever and I was dying while the strep germs shoved what felt like shards of broken glass down my throat" excuse.  He's very smart. 

So he got up Monday morning and I took one look at him and was like, "I am making an appointment for you to go see Dr. L." 

And he was all like, (insert dramatic gravelly voice) "I have to go to work.  I just took the week off.  The firm will fall apart if I don't come in today."  OK.  Actually, I added the last sentence, but that's what he was thinking.  I am positive.

So I was all like,  "I'm making the appointment.  I will make it as early as I can but I think you are a dumbass if you go to work."

I was very sympathetic.  Because I am all kind like that.

So I made the appointment.  And he took a shower with his fever.  And he got his suit and tie on with his fever.  And he left.  With his fever.  He was thinking that he would just go to the Doctor's office, take the test, get a prescription and then head up to work with his fever.  To suffer at his desk for the next 12 hours, all the while infecting everyone else at the firm with his streppy germs.  He felt this was completely fine.

So I was sitting in my red chair drinking a cup of coffee and catching up on my blog roll exactly one hour after he left, and I see his car pull in the driveway.

So I jumped up and started vacuuming, obviously.  I don't want it to look like I sit on my ass perusing the Internet all day, you know?  And then he came in with a sad face and told me he got kicked out of work for the day.  Because of the positive strep test.

So I had to hold back a giggle and get him up to bed.  Poor guy did not come down for like 24 full hours.  He really was so sick.  At one point he looked helplessly at me and said, "You were right, I never could have made it through work all day like this."  And I stifled the urge to say I told you so, and sympathetically pet his head.

He's really lucky to have me.

So anyway, back to the blanket party.  Alex went to work yesterday because there was no way possible he would take two days off in a row.  And when he got home at 8ish last night, he was pretty much wiped out.  Gee.  I wonder why.  And so he basically ate a bowl of the amazing homemade chicken noodle soup that I threw together for him (did I mention how lucky he is?), and went upstairs to bed. 

This is not exactly indicative of my night.  But only because I don't wear rollers and Alex was not smiling while he snored.  And also, that is not my side of the bed.

Where he proceeded to snore all night long.  All. Night. Long.

He isn't a snorer. Unless he is tanked, but that is pretty rare.  If he was a snorer I would never have married him.  I am dead serious.  I need my sleep.  I don't require much sleep, but I need something.  Snoring is my worst offense.  It drives me absolutely crazy.  And even though I may have been accused of possibly snoring a snitch every so often, I truly can't handle it in someone else.  It may not exactly be fair, but it is what it is.  I make no apologies.

So naturally, I did not throw a blanket over his sick head and pummel the crap out of him.  I calmly took my dumb temporary replacement pillow* and went into the guest room.  And proceeded to have the worst night's sleep ever.  First, there was no fan blowing cold air on me in that dumb room.  Second, there was no warm leg to put my cold feet on, and third, I hate that dumb bed.  The headboard bonks against the wall every time you move so it's annoying all night long.  And fourth, I hate my dumb temporary replacement pillow.

Do you think that if I made this into a sign and hung it over my bed, it would go with the decor?

So that is exactly why I couldn't possibly quit coffee this morning.


*I am currently using a temporary replacement pillow.  It's the saddest thing ever, but I accidentally left my best most favorite comfy pillow at a hotel in North Carolina.  It took all of my strength not to turn around and go get it.  I am in mourning.  It's very hard to get the perfect pillow. :(

I am linking the UNUSUALLY lengthy and cranky rant intended for my poor, sick UNSUSPECTING husband at Jenny Matlock's Alphabe-Thursday.  Can you guess what letter we are on?

If there is an app that lets you reach through the phone and smack someone, I'll totally buy the iphone.

I've been debating whether or not I want to say goodbye to my blackberry or not.  My BIL T-Bone is working hard to convince me to go DROID, but I think I kind of like the iPhone.

The drawback to the iPhone is the keyboard situation.  Like, there is none.  I think I need keys to punch.  With the Droid, there is a little keyboard.  What I like most about the iPhone is that it would be like an iPod and phone all in one -- I could organize my music and have one less gadget to lug around.  Right?

So, I've been learning a lot about all of the apps that are out there.  T-Bone has an app that looks like a rifle, and when my sisters and I talk too much about a subject that he considers boring (such as Progresso Soup), he takes out the gun app and pretends to shoot himself.  It makes the sound of a rifle.  Chickchick BOOM.  It's a very convincing sound actually, and usually gets our attention.  He's a pretty funny guy.  He also has a flashlight app that he uses on a daily basis.  He pulls it up and it looks like a flashlight on the screen, and really a lot of light comes out of that thing.  It is very handy.

Last week we were at Disney, smack in the middle of winter break, and T-Bone totally used his new Disney app to figure out which park had the lightest attendance, and then which rides had the shortest lines -- it was updated to the minute!  It was so great.  The longest line we waited on was maybe 15 minutes.  I am pretty sure that is like the best invention ever.

And that pretty much sealed the deal that I need a phone that has better app capabilities than my Blackberry.

I just want an app that will reach through the phone and smack someone for me.  I really needed one of those the other day.

Do you think they have an app like that out yet?  I might need to figure out how to invent one...