My Daddy, The Drug Dealer

My Daddy is a pharmacist and throughout my life I've bemoaned things like the long hours he works and the lack of time he has to spend with me because of it. I've been sad when I visited him at work and he was too busy to give me attention. I've whined to him over the phone while he patiently set aside a few precious minutes of his time to hear me out.

It wasn't until recently that I really began to think about all the hellish shit I've seen him put up with over the years. Some of the characters he has to deal with on a daily basis would be enough to have me heaving sobs and yelling at everyone in my path.

One of these characters is a dowdy woman, old before she should be old, swathed is layers of dirty clothing...addicted to every sort of medication known to man. Bolstered by Medicaid and Doctor's who are sick of her as her pharmacist is, she feels somehow entitled to more than she ever should:

"Randy! Oh dear, dear, dear Randy. Has the Doctor called in my new prescription yet? Oh my....No? Well, I suppose I can wait here...or maybe you can just fill it now. I'm sure he'll be calling you today."

Oh yeah lady. Let me get you some drugs right away without a prescription. I'll take your word that the Doctor will be calling soon, even though I could lose my license and livelihood by doing so. Yeah, I'll get right on it.

I can just see my Daddy's strained face, his fake laugh so as not to show his frustrations plainly.

"Sorry Gertrude. We'll just have to wait for him to call it in."

Another great character dealt with on a daily basis is the irate middle aged man. This character is the guy that scares the shit out of you in traffic cause he's laying heavy on his horn and yelling obscenities at you and every car in his general vicinity. Now imagine this asshole on the other side of your pharmacy counter, harassing your technicians when he finds out he has to wait for his wife's reflux meds.

"For fuck's sake. What the hell can possibly take you so long to put some pills in a bottle and hand them over to me?????"

Hmmm...could it be the 300 other prescriptions ahead of your wife's? Could it be the insurance information that has to be inputted before the pharmacist can even start filling your prescription? What I'm sure my dad wants to say is this:

"Chill the hell out and take a seat assmunch. You think your impatient nature and your wife's heartburn are more important than this cancer patient's meds? Or this old man's medication that will keep his heart from blowing up? Or this antibiotic for a 2 year old sick with pneumonia? If you don't like waiting, take a fucking hike and send your goddamn wife next time."

Instead he says this through reddened cheeks and gritted teeth:

"I'm sorry for your wait, Sir. We'll have your prescription ready for you as soon as possible."

The customer that I most dreaded dealing with during my short forays as an employee at my Dad's pharmacy was the CrackHead ManLady. You've seen this type before I'm sure, even if just on some gritty crime show about 'life on the street'. She/He is grey in color, very very thin and walks in a slow stalking manner befitting their obviously drug induced nature. Their hair is so greasy it falls in pieces in front of their hollow eyes. You want to feel sympathy for them, even have the urge to help them until they open their god forsaken mouths:

"Hey...hey you. I have some money here. Maybe you can help me out and match what I have....here. I need a pack of smokes."

If you give this person money, they WILL come back for more. And more. And more. And later that day they'll send their grandkids, or their cracked out teenagers to ask you for money for more smokes. Or mountain dew. My Dad's veneer doesn't even crack (pardon the pun) for this shady character:

"Do you have a prescription or a question?"

The picky lady is another constant presence at the pharmacy. She's usually an overly put together type with bad hair and even worse make-up. She'll have her purse hiked high over her shoulder resting on one saddle bag clothed in pleated khaki pants. She questions everything that could possibly be questioned, from the price of the prescription to the instructions for taking the medications.

"And why is this drug so much more than last time? Last time I know I paid $42.79 and this time you're asking me for $50. I know I have the receipt for my last purchase in my purse."

Okay lady. Let's sit here while you screw with your receipts for a half hour. I'm sure no one else has anything remotely important to do while you try to haggle with us over the price of the medications prescribed to you by your Doctor.

Instead of being rude, or ignoring this woman, my Daddy, tired and strained by a day of dealing with fat drug seekers, angry men, crackwhore panhandlers and needy children says this:

"Sure Ma'm. You can take a seat in the waiting area and get the receipt out, when you do we'll look over it together and I'll see if I can explain to you why the price is now different."

Now that we have all properly cringed and empathized with my Dad for his neverending patience with these horrid characters, I'll leave you with a short story my Dad told me of one of the funnier experiences he has had with a 'customer'.

After being alerted by a laughing technician that he had a customer on hold with an 'emergency question', my Dad warily answered the phone:

"Such and Such Pharmacy, this is Randy the pharmacist speaking, how may I help you?"

"Randy. I just didn't know who else to call!"

"Ok...how may I help you?"

"This is so and so, you know my teenage daughter Bla Bla, right?"

My Dad may or may not have looked them up on the computer before continuing with the conversation,

"Ok, do you have a question about your medication?"

"No actually, Bla Bla wants to go swimming with her friends today. She is only 13 and is on her period. Is it safe for her to wear a tampon?"

It is at this point in the retelling of this conversation that I burst out laughing and it's never been revealed how he dealt with the question. I hope he answered like this:

"Because I am a pharmacist and not an expert on teenage girls' menstrual cycles or the gynecological implements necessary to handle such situations, I'm respectfully asking you to HANG THE FUCK UP."

Famous Men I Have No Interest In Sleeping With...

Jeremiah is convinced that if I like an actor or musician it means that I want to sleep with that person. I don't ever think about all the different sexual things I would do to the famous people I like (I'm assuming automatically connecting sexual acts with members of the opposite sex is a common thing? What's wrong with you people?), I rather think about how awesome it would be to hang out with them.

Here are some of my famous 'friends'-

Dennis Quaid. I think Jeremiah is suspicious that I have a crush on him. But to set Jeremiah's fears to rest, having sex with Mr. Quaid is not on the list of things I would like to do with him. Playing ping pong is. Can you imagine how fun it would be to play ping pong with Dennis Quaid? He has such an awesome laugh and a enigmatic smile. I'm all about smiles. Oh AND Cranium. I bet Dennis Quaid would be an excellent Cranium partner!

Crispin Glover. Ok. I know he's creepy. But if you look back throughout your childhood and teenage years, some of your best and most loyal friends were probably also a bit creepy. I saw Crispin on Chelsea Lately the other night and though it was an uncomfortable encounter, I saw definite potential in him as a bud. He's definitely a video gaming friend! Or! Even better! A karaoke video gaming friend. I think I nailed that one down perfectly.

Ben Folds. I know, I know. I talk about him a bit. He would definitely be the type of friend you'd go on bike rides with. When you took a break from the bike rides you could wax philosophic about your childhoods, your historical theories about Hitler or the existence of Giants in Ancient Gaul, he'd be thoughtful and make fun of you at the same time.

Marlon Brando. I know Brando died in July of 2004, I've just always felt that he would have been a friend of mine. Sure, he seemed tortured, self absorbed, kind of ego maniacal in nature...but I can see beyond all of that. He'd fly you to some beach, but you wouldn't be afraid he was trying to get in your pants...I have a feeling he'd screwed himself out of commission by the time I was born. He'd talk about his amazing life, the movies he's made, the people he has known and the tragedies he's experienced. He wouldn't listen to a word you would say in response, he would just go on and on and on. And I know I would love every second of it, how about you?

Falcor. You have to believe me on this one, right Jeremiah? I would not want to have sex with Falcor from The Neverending Story. I would, however, want him to fly me all over the world, perched high atop his glorious white and scaly back. FALCOOOORRRRRRRRRR!

Gabriel Byrne. I heard him tell a story about a huge scar he has on his right side on some late night talk show. He said he was in some dive bar on the coast in Ireland and got in a brawl with a bunch of sailors. Whoever was interviewing him said something like, 'I guess you lost the fight.' Gabriel Byrne looked at the interviewer completely seriously and said, 'You should have seen the other guys.' So that right there explains why he would be a good friend. He'll take a shiv for you in a bar fight and keep on going at it! Plus, he's Irish.

Our Day with Max and The Magical Forest

I've mentioned before that on the weekends our super troop of six gets cut down to three when my three daughters head off into the sunset with their Daddy for three whole days.

This Friday night and Saturday, however, we were graced with Maxine Jane's presence. Her sisters and dad had lots of soccer related things to do and they thought she might be a 'handful'.

Your loss Dudes.

Jeremiah and I were in awe of the lovely and awesome Maxine we got to have all this extra time with. She's always pretty darn cool, but it's seems like Jeremiah doesn't have all that much time with her one on one. Usually he spends a lot more time with the older two, doing homework and piano lessons.

We told her Friday night at bedtime that we were meeting Jeremiah's Mum at a nearby State Park for bike riding.

She lit up, beaming with excitement and joy. She also didn't really know what the State Park was, even though she's been there several times, so I spent an extra half hour into bedtime explaining it to her. Finally I came up with this:

"It's like a giant forest, with water all around...a lake, with tiny creeks and ponds that run all through the forest."

"Hmmm. Mom, that sounds like something in Shrek."

"Well...I guess it is sort of like the forests in Shrek. We'll have to keep our eyes our for magical creatures."

"We'll probably just see chipmunks and bears....and we can chase them. And maybe if they are nice, and we are nice...we can pet them and then bring them home and I'll make a little box, like the zhu zhu pet's box."

"How would you put a bear in a box, Max?"

"THE CHIPMUNK MOMMA! I WAS TALKING ABOUT a chipmunk...the bear would have to live under the tree in our backyard. But he couldn't ride in the car? Hmm. He'd probably just follow us home and look in our windows so he could be all part of our familyyyy."

Great. Bears looking in the windows. Delightful.

Our day was wonderful Max and Elijah took a nap during the ride there. They looked like angels:


We rode for awhile and stopped for pretzels and stone skipping:





The biggest beach on the lake and a large playground is at the end of the trail. It was a pretty chilly day and it was windy on the beach. Well worth hanging out there to see the kids so happy. Elijah is like a little mud puddle magnet, but he totally and completely stayed out of the lake. Weird.



The only disappointing thing about this amazing day was last night while flipping through the photos I realized that the magic forest didn't work any spells on my crooked teeth. Oh well, I still get the hot guy, despite the non-magical dental work:

Tattoos and Cupcakes

A lot of tattoo buzz has been going on around me. Jeremiah had a large cover up done on the inside of his leg. He was covering up a small misshapen tattoo, a not so welcome reminder of his tumultuous youth.

Kara wrote about tattoos here, and asked for emails about our tattoos, the presumptuous tart.

Miss Chief is all about tattoos, which makes sense considering she works in a tattoo shop. Her boyfriend has my favorite tattoo, The Clever Goat, which incorporates not only my favorite word, but also a goat with a spectacle. Can’t get much better than that, can you?

All of this tattooing talk made me reflect on my experiences with tattooists, tattoos and tattoo regrets.

As a kid I worked very part-time in a record store about two blocks from my dad’s pharmacy. I would walk there after school and watch the store while my friend (and store co-owner) went and got lunch or ran errands. I did this in return for C.D.s, L.P.’s, local concert tickets and Manic Panic hair dye.

Above this record store was a tattoo shop. I know that most tattoo shops are reputable and that tattoo ‘parlors’ in general get a bad rep from the general public, but this shop was pretty much bad news exemplified. I knew the guys that owned the shop, they were lewd with me regardless of my very young age (and even more so the older I got, dirty perverts), they smoked constantly,had women give sexual favors in return for piercings or small tattoos (roses and Tasmanian devils). They also had a revolving door of artists in and out of the shop, mainly because most of them were good and couldn’t stand the dirty clientele and low brow shop standards.

I started hanging out and working at the record shop at around age 13 and by the time I was 16 a lot of changes had been made to the shop upstairs. The owner and lead artist had a child and changed his ways (for the most part, he still had the horrid habit of commenting on my boobs on a daily basis). He changed shop policies, imported guest artists from all over the country, ordered all new equipment and hired a decorating firm to change the whole look and feel of the shop. It went from a scary to a stylish shop in a very short time and was much much busier.

A lot of the guys from the shop would hang out downstairs with me when it wasn’t busy and we would talk about tattoo designs. They thought I had some clever (there’s that word again) ideas and I would watch in amazement while they would draw up whatever I had come up with right there in front of me. I was so jealous of talent like that!

By this time the shop had a very rockabilly, hipster feel and I was totally into the retro tattoos the owner had been tattooing. I had one of the artists draw up an adorable blue jay for me, pimped out in full Elvis regalia. A bright, cartoony blue jay with slick black hair and a James Dean jean jacket, this blue jay was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. I folded him into a tiny square and tucked him into my worn hand me down wallet for safe keeping for when I would be of an age to put Mr. Blue Jay on my body.

Three months after I delivered Rose, I was finally ready to get my tattoo. I didn’t get a tattoo right after I turned 18 mainly because I didn’t have enough money, I was saving for college and wanted to help my parents out with school costs as much as possible (and we all know clothes for excellent and awesome 18 year old girls don’t come cheap).

My cousin and I went to the shop, folded Blue Jay secretly in hand. I had a feeling she would disapprove of the drawing I planned on getting, so I listened to her babble on about roses and lilies and hummingbirds. We had made an appointment with a guest artist originally from British Columbia who was touring the U.S. He had recently been in Prague, which I found sooo cool at the time, although I’m not sure why.

The next few hours are a total blur.

I was not drinking or drugging, so I can’t pawn my next actions off on any sort of substance other than my own timidity and stupidity. Somehow I let my cousin talk me into discarding my Blue Jay idea and instead I received a hummingbird (with a kind of cool phoenix like tail) perched on a heart.

The owner was disappointed, the artist was disappointed and I was near tears the entire time.

I still have the Blue Jay, buried deep in a box of old memories and things that don’t matter one bit. I think that my experience with my first tattoo sums up most of my life from age 19-25. A sad, uncomfortable and timid Me lived in this body. She’s still here, somewhere. I just know better than to let her make any decisions.

Except earlier today when I ate two cupcakes…that was all her.Bitch.

List Full Ness

I'm a big fan of lists. If I'm not constantly writing them out, I'm constantly 'writing' them in my head. And trust me folks, this head is not a clear and concise platform for fluent thought.

The list, in my head, upon awaking:

1) Change boy's diaper.
2) Lay in bed.
3) Change boy's diaper.
4) Lay in bed.
5) No really, you lazy asshole. Change boy's diaper.

The list, written out, after Rose and Olivia left for school:

1) Make beds.
2) Start laundry.
3) Make sure Max knows the difference between 'P' and 'B'.
4) Read to the boy one.
5) Work on custom orders...watch Farscape Season 3 with headphones on.
5) Pretend not to notice Max eating her fifth Go-Gurt.
6) Text Jeremiah at least 35 times

The list, in my head, regarding my hygiene:

1) Take a shower you dirty whore.
2) Pluck your eyebrows you hairy beast.
3) Wear some clothes other than PJ's today.
4) Clip those toenails before your Momma notices your raccoon-like claws.

The list, written in blood, about what I need to do before bed:

1)Pack Rose's lunch
2)Finish custom bunny. Do it now. Now. Now.
3)Package finished items for shipping.
4)DO THE GOD DAMN DISHES BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!!!!
5)Stare dreamily into Jeremiah's eyes. (this is underlined several times...must have hidden meaning.)
6)If you didn't already shower, you filthy jackass, don't you dare do it now. You will wake the ruffians.

The list, written here on ze blog, about what I need to do tomorrow:

1) Don't yell at anyone. The kids will talk about you and your horrible parenting on their blogs someday.
2) Don't forget to do the laundry that you never even began yesterday. If you put it off for one more day, Jeremiah will have no socks and it will be all your fault.
3) Call your grandma.
4) Take little kids on walk in your brand new bike trailer/double stroller.
5) Smile.
6) Smile some more.
7) When Max grumps at you for every little tiny suggestion you make about the day's activities, hug her. She's a mean vixen, but she is your mean vixen.
8) Tell Rose to stop growing.
9) Write to Steamy. Give her an internet kiss.
10) Remember how hard Jeremiah works. Tell him how much you love him. Smile even when he rolls his eyes at you for the quad-rillionth time.

A Second Post for Jeremiah's 32nd Birthday

Growing up my momma was the sweetest, nicest momma any kid could possibly hope for. She might have been unhappy and stressed at times, but she made the best of everyday for me and my siblings. One of the things she did that meant the world to us was telling us our birth stories on our birthdays. She would often gather us in her bed ('us' meaning whichever combination of children were there at the time, I have four younger siblings but there are some big age differences between us...I'm sure teenage me wasn't hanging out on momma's bed the morning of my baby sister's third birthday.) and then recount the story of the day we were born. Mine ends with my grandma missing a card game due to my evening arrival. The joke is that I waited till just after 10p.m. in order to keep her there past the game's start time of 9:30.

I follow the same tradition with my own children and Rose can now recount all of their stories excitedly and faithfully.

Jeremiah was born in the evening 32 years ago. His mum told me the story of his birth when I was pregnant with Elijah and I will tell it to you (in my own words) tonight:

Teresa was due any day with her fourth child when she slid out of bed one warm March morning. She had already delivered three large bouncing baby boys.

She felt energized that morning and set to work on the many tasks she had planned to finish before her impending delivery. She dusted, moved furniture around, played outside in the sun with her sons. She washed the car, prepared dinner and put her children to bed.

Soon after they were asleep she felt pains coming swiftly and surely. Her husband Dave had a neighbor watch the older children and they headed to the hospital. The short drive must have felt like ages to her in this stage of labor.

After a quick examination the nurses determined she would not labor for long. Jeremiah was born a short time after their arrival. He was around ten pounds, healthy as a horse (or a foal, if you will) and very calm.

His birth story is short and sweet. The love his parents have for him and his brothers is obvious to me and I'm sure his arrival was one of the happiest days of their lives. I imagine his mum holding him for the first time and being completely in love. I feel the same way every time I am near him.

Happy Birthday Jeremiah. Happy Birth Day Teresa.

32....

So alot of you know that Miss Yvonne at Yo Mama's Blog is a neverending source of comic relief and a pretty good internet bud...

But did you know she is also a freelance photographer?

And also one of my customers?

I bet you did not.

Here's what I made for Miss Yvonne for her cats to wear....I mean, as photography props for her second, more creative occupation:


I also recently came up with new items for my shop (which are also available to order via email).

SlipSlips (as Max call them) in Raspberry, Royal Purple for Women (or Men, whatever floats your proverbial boat) and Stripey for kids.

Okay, now that I've pimped myself out in a manner befitting a pimp like chick yo....

TODAY IS JEREMIAH'S BIRTHDAY!!!! YAY! HOORAY! Isn't that just neat?

Max has been hounding me since 6:30 am to start making his cake. She did that creepy thing where she silently crept into my room while I was fast asleep and ended up three inches from my face before she yelled,

"Momma! Where is Jeremiah?!"

"Max. Oh. Dear. Good morning. Jeremiah is at work."

"But. But it's his birrrrrthdaaaaaayyyyy."

"I know baby. It stinks. Grown ups have to work on their birthdays most of the time."

"Ohhhhhhllllright. We better make his cake right now. Then we can surprise him when he comes home from work with his cake and all of his presents and candy. Balloons?"

"Max. We only got him a few smalls things and we're not doing anything special, really. We're not having a party, it will just be the six of us."

"Six is enough for a party, Mom"

Right Max. Six is enough. Enough to make your head spin and your knees buckle in exhaustion on a daily basis.

I'll leave you with some photos of Jeremiah in honor of his Day of Birth:

If My Brain Were an Egg, Would you Fry Me?

I've been thinking alot about 'crazy' lately.

I was fascinated with insane asylums as a child. If I told my momma that I could levitate would she think I was unstable? If Joshy and I threw kittens off the back porch (we did not...it was the neighbor kid, I swear...and they all landed on their feet, as expected) would the neighbor lady insist that we were criminally insane? If I couldn't sleep at night, if I had horrible nightmares, would my Daddy get tired of comforting me and ship me off to the loony bin?

It began when I somehow watched The Snake Pit in it's entirety. I don't remember ever being alone as a child, yet somehow I watched this very scary movie at a very impressionable age. My pappy probably left AMC on when he fell asleep in his recliner and this came on after Bonanza or some John Wayne flick.

The wheels began to turn. Would I snap one day?

So together we shall search high and low these deeps crevices (of my mind, you pervert), to determine whether or not I am a total raving lunatic. Here is some evidence I have compiled:

1) I don't like the dark. Remnants from the aforementioned nightmares of my youth. And I see dead people. :)

2) I worry about the kids. All the time. Does Rose have the right shoes? Is Max awake yet? She'll be fussy all day if she sleeps past 9 a.m. Did I pack Olivia's special conditioner? Is Elijah breathing in his crib?

3)I can't pee in a public restroom if there's someone in the stall next to me. No matter how bad I have to pee I can't stand being that close to a urinating stranger. I'll literally flee the restroom.

4)I think about sex at random times. I suppose most people are like this, but I like to pretend I'm wholly unique, so deal. I'm folding laundry, see Jeremiah's boxers...think about him taking them off.
I'm on a walk with the kids, see the patch of grass three blocks away that Jeremiah and I had sex in last week, right in the middle of some random stranger's yard. (ha that was made up, did you enjoy it while it lasted?)

5) I'm pretty sure I don't see myself like everyone else sees me. I've always been sure that's it is an self-esteem issue, but lately I'm wondering if I'm just delusional. When I look in the mirror I don't see the person reflected back to me in others eyes. My brow is thicker, my hair darker, my complexion far more marked. Every curve of my body is grossly disproportionate to my size. I'll stand next to someone and feel so small. I'll look in the mirror and I feel like a giant.

6) I'll eat most anything off of the floor. If it drops and I like it, it will most assuredly end up in my mouth.

7) I think that all of my children look like some sort of magical creature. Rose is fairy-like, Olivia is a classic imp (like the original Peter Pan prints), Maxine is a pixie (duh) and Elijah is a jolly gnome.

OR they're all dead ringers for adorable animals.

Rose used to look like a meerkat, now she's definitely a doe. Olivia is a bunny or a bear (as a younger, chubbier child the resemblance was UNCANNY), Maxine Jane is a a llama sometimes, sometimes a baby gecko or one of those tiny baby tree frogs. Elijah is obviously a lion cub. Duh.

8) When something sparks my interest, I can't stop thinking about it. I watched Grey Gardens (the original documentary) the other day while I was working on an order and I just couldn't stop thinking about the two Edie's. The mother's voice rang in my ears, the strange conspiratorial whispering of the daughter replayed over and over. Questions funneled into my brain. I had the idea that I would have liked to meet these women, just for one day. I was relieved of this fantasy by the realization that they are both dead. By the end of the night I felt really great about film in general and the things that humans capture to share with one another.

Eight things?!? That's it?

The day is beautiful and the hours seem shorter and shorter every year. I suppose I should stop worrying about my mental state and start enjoying the Spring.

Or are these daily trappings just an illusion? Oh the human mind. What a terrible thing to waste.

The General Public Despises Us

A little while ago our family decided to go to a nearby (within walking distance) Family Practice rather than driving 25 minutes to the pediatrician for every visit. The practice has a lovely young Doc specializing in ages 2-14 and then Jeremiah and I can see the regular not so fun adult Docs if need be.

Yesterday Rose and Olivia had their first appointment with the new Doc. This first visit works as a well-check up and a introduction to the staff and facility. I've mentioned before the office was friendly and very kind to Maxine, Elijah and myself during their first visit a couple weeks before.

The general public, however, is not so very friendly and/or kind.

On the walk to the office our supertroop spied a lady walking two large dogs down the sidewalk towards us. I instructed the kids to stop and step off of the sidewalk to let them pass. They did, eagerly anticipating seeing the passing dogs close up. The lady walked by us completely ignoring all the adorable questions the children were posing to her and the pups:

"Hi Puppies! Are they babies or big dogs that do tricks?"

"What kind of dogs are those? Are they some kind of great dane or dalmation? Those are the ones I like best....I think."

"Dahhhhhhg! Oh Oh Oh Oh Dahhhhhhhhhhhg! Hi."

"Mom. I think that's actually some kind of pointer. Olivia thinks that all dogs are dalmations. Or some kind of mixed dalmation hybrid."

The passing dog walker didn't pause, smile or politely laugh. She stuck her nose up in the air and breezed past us.

"She didn't hear me, I guess, Momma. I wouldn't have touched her dogs."
Max hung her head a little bit as we continued on our walk.

The office's parking lot has two exits, one onto the main road and one smaller side street that comes out into our neighborhood. I cautioned the children to walk in a single file line down this side street and picked up Elijah for the remaining distance. When a car came up the street I would say, "Kids! Car. Over as far as you can!" and then we would stop until the car passed. This happened twice and as the last car came towards us we were all still and far off the road.

The old man driving that car didn't see us until he was almost directly beside us. As he finally noticed us there he slammed on his brakes and beeped the horn, as if we were in front of him in the middle of the street. His face was bloated and red, his mouth gaping and angry as he rolled down his window and yelled at me,

"Use your head Lady! Keep your kids off of the street!"

In shock I mumbled to myself, "We were off of the street."


We finally entered the office and the children took their seats, much to the chagrin of a young couple who were already sitting when we arrived. Young Yuppy Couple (with enough money to look at least a little bit hipster, instead wearing matching polo shirts and khakis, what a waste) looked shocked when Elijah sat in the seat to the right of them and beamed up at them with his oh so adorable smile. He didn't touch them, spit at them or yell at them. He was clean, well dressed, polite and TWO YEARS OLD.

Young Yuppy Couple looked at each other, rolled their eyes, got up, crossed the room and sat down on the other side of the rather large space. It pained me to look at Elijah's face as he realized these people didn't want to sit by him. He sat back in the seat and was very quiet.

Rose came up to the receptionists window where I was dealing with insurance crap. I had planned on saying something to the couple when I finished at the window, like "Children are people too." or something along those lines when Rosey said, quite loud:

"Maybe they have something contagious."

Oh Rose, wise beyond your years.

Prompted by Rose's forced optimism I made up scenarios to make the day's offenders less offensive seeming.

The Dog Walker's dogs are highly jealous of any interaction she might have with other people. If she were to speak with us or even acknowledge us her dogs would have attacked us and showed no mercy.

The Angry Man in the Car just came from having a prostate exam.

The Young Yuppy Couple just found out they have six different venereal diseases between the two of them (fun trip to Cabo) and were waiting for their prescriptions.

The rest of the visit was fairly uneventful (Rose has to see a dermatologist AND an eye doctor, oh boy). We walked home in the beautiful sunshine and the assholes we encountered that day were forgotten and their thoughtless actions erased by a gentle breeze and a fresh outlook.

Later that night Olivia mentioned The Dog Walker, "When I have dogs someday I'll teach them to be really nice to everyone so they can stop on the street and play with people and make them happy and glad to be alive."

"That's wonderful Olivia...sounds like an awesome idea!"

Maxine Jane chimes in at this point, positively beaming from ear to ear, "YEAH! And when I have a car I'll let kids run in front of me all the time and never yell at them or their mommas!"

Seems we all learned important lessons today, eh?

Let's Do A Header, Together.

I love my header. A friend made it for me a while ago and I wasn't expecting it to be so awesome. But the kids are getting older and I'm tired of looking at the side of my teeth (which aren't so yellow in real life).

So today I'm asking everyone to come up with a new header for me. As a reward to the header I pick, I will give away either a set of Organic Cotton Scrubettes or any item from my shop (no custom items, please) under $20, winners choice.

I'm pretty open to lots of styles, I like the cartoony super cute look...but I also like photos. This is the reason I'm looking for someone to design this thing for me. I'm an undecided mess most of the time.

(I told Max what I was doing on the blog today and she yelled out, "Have TOTORO on the blog MOMMA....TOOOOOOOOOO TOOOOOOOO ROOOOOOOO!" She adores Japanese style big eyed creatures.)

If you need photos of reference or photos for use that are not available on the blog, please contact me.

Headers are to be submitted to me, via email at oliverosetree@yahoo.com by March 27th.

If you have the time or the inclination promote this contest on your blog have at it so I can get lots of header designs to choose from! Many thanks and hugs and little kissies all over your cutesy cheeks and forehead area.

Recite This, Piano!

Sunday was Rose, Olivia and my baby sister Hannah's annual piano recital.









Jeremiah is shooting the video and he might not be the World's Best Videographer, but he is the World's Best In Bed AND The World's Best Piano Teacher. Rose was first:



Hannah was just awesome! She's been taking lessons since she was 4:



Olivia is never nervous. She sat patiently and colored with Max through everyone else's performances like she didn't even realize what was going on. Right before it was her turn to go (she was last) she did look up and say, 'Is it finally my turn?" :



And this is what Max did during the recital:

Breakfast Memories

On the weekends when it's just Jeremiah, Elijah and myself we tend to go out to eat a couple times.
It's not that I don't like to cook, but sometimes it's nice to be the one served rather than the one serving.

Today we ate at Perkins, an American fare chain restaurant in an area about 45 minutes away from our home. The Perkins in our hometown used to be my favorite place to eat as a child, before it closed sometime during my teen years. I squealed in delight as we almost drove past the place, making Jeremiah jump and swerve in fright. He seemed to be surprised that I would want to eat there, after recovering from the jolt my scream had given him.

My grandparents would take me there after church on Sundays (and before they made me visit the nursing homes...a whole other torturous experience, a whole other post in the making).

My grandma would order me chocolate milk and then would top it off from her coffee cup. Delicious 'coffee milk' we called it and as a child I thought it was a magical creation born solely of my grandma's awesome genius.

My pappy would always order blueberry pancake pigs in a blanket, which made me laugh and grossed me out all at once.

My grandma and I would split a giant omelet, hashbrowns and 3 buttermilk pancakes. The waitress would bring out the plates with the food and then set two delicate dessert plates in front of us so we could serve ourselves from the mass of breakfast mess. My grandma would have butter and maple syrup, I would have blackberry syrup and no butter (my momma told me as a child that if you never used butter, you would never miss it when you were older, I believed her, never used it and still miss it).

I reveled in the fact that I got these two wonderful people all to myself for that short time at the restaurant every Sunday morning. Perched high in the giant wooden booth, garlands of cheap and dusty cloth flowers hanging on the paneled walls next to us, I would pretend that I was an only child and that I would stay with my grandparents forever...

No baby siblings, no tired mommas, no daddys to miss. Just me and my Pappy's jolly round belly, my grandma's elegant red nails, eggs and coffee milk.

Today we had late lunch at Perkins. Jeremiah ordered pop (he's such a bad boy). I had regular coffee, no milk.

Elijah and I split an omelet, hashbrowns and three buttermilk pancakes. I had to ask the waitress for an extra plate. Elijah ate most of the pancakes, with butter and maple syrup.

I kept waiting for some of the magic to be back.

While we were leaving the restaurant I imagined for one moment getting in to my grandparent's old red Grand Am (my Pappy loved that car), my Pappy hoisting me onto the grey velvety seats and then my Grandma ducking into the back seat to belt me in. She would smooth down my hair, tuck my dress down around my legs and remind me to sit 'like a lady'.

Jeremiah and I put Elijah into his car seat. We got into the car, Jeremiah in the driver's seat and me in the passenger side and set out onto the rainy highway.

As we drove away the magic tingle left my skull and I was once again adult Me, with only memories to cloud the experiences at hand.

Balding Tea Lovers Unite!

It's nearing 11pm and I'm in our gameroom, new laptop perched precariously in my lap, Gail Carriger's Soulless resting on the arm of the couch, cell phone lying next to Soulless, chamomile tea steaming on kids' Step1 table almost out of my reach, unfortunately for the carpet and for Jeremiah who will eventually have to steam clean said carpet...

I notice two things simultaneously:

1: I got kicked out of Out Of Tune Idol.

2: Jeremiah is burning rubber (quite literally) in our basement.

Surprisingly I'm okay with both of these happenings.

Star Trek Next Generation is coming on. It kind of makes everything cool.

When my brother Joshy and I were the only children in our family (before the three demons beset themselves upon our happy home) we were only allowed to stay up and watch one primetime show a week. (Heaven forbid we cut into my mom's adult time, alone with Pepsi, salty potato chips and Unsolved Mysteries)

Josh always wanted to watch Star Trek NG and I always wanted to watch Mr. Belvedere, The Cosby Show or any other sitcommy mess that happened to be on when Star Trek wasn't.

Because I refused to watch it with him, I never truly got the pure genius that is that show.

It's strange because I don't really love any of the characters in particular. Counselor Troy is a tramp and way too in touch with her feelings (must be the constant frontal wedge she's always sporting). Doctor Wesley's Momma should have given it up to Captain Picard within minutes of beaming aboard the Enterprise. Warf needs to do something about his freaking hair, the Dorothy Hamill bob just kills me. Number Two is a total douchebag and needs to stop grimacing, aren't there any colostomy clinics on such an advanced starship? And Captain Picard, my dear dear bald friend. Tea isn't the answer. Heroine is. Beam some of that shit up.

So if it's not the characters the genius of the show must lie purely in it's ability to suck one in and not let go. If I watch the first few minutes, I have to watch the whole episode. If I watch one night, I have the urge to watch it again the next. If one of it's random movies are on an even randomer cable channel at an odd hour of the day, I feel compelled to DVR it and watch it at a more convenient time.

Engrossed:

Sunchips and Ketchup.

My day usually consists of preparing food stuffs, cleaning, taking care of the two children still not in school, working on orders from my lovely customers, packaging those orders for shipping, writing and reading blog posts, working on new items for my shop and texting Jeremiah.

I have a pretty good life and although I do get bored with it from time to time, I consider myself pretty freaking lucky.

Just every once in awhile I get jealous of other people's lives. One of those people is Livvie Lou Who and the other is Maxine Jane.

Jeremiah was off from work Monday and we went to register Max for Kindergarten.
We picked her up from her paternal grandmother's house, took her to school, registered her for school, went to target, bought her new jammies as a gift, took her to lunch. She had lettuce, ranch dressing, croutons, jello, pudding and a chocolate chip muffin. Then we came home and she got dressed in her new jammies immediately. I went upstairs to lay Elijah down for his nap and when I came back downstairs I found her in the gameroom like this:


She didn't even notice my presence as I picked up toys off the floor, put them away, snapped these photos of her and then left the room.
A couple minutes later:


Once again, doesn't realize I'm in the room. I snap a few more photos, go about my housework. I come back to check on her a little bit later, mildly concerned I haven't heard from her in awhile:


It was finally after I asked her what I should make for dinner that she gave me some recognition.


"SUNCHIPS!!!! KETCHUPPPPPP!!!!!"



Our new pediatrician sent home a pamphlet of papers about how much t.v./computer time children should be spending watching/playing. They recommend no more than an hour of both things a day.

And I thought I was a good mother, whoops.

Out of Tune Idol Week 2 ONE HIT WONDERS

Once upon a time a sweet girl named Erin entered a contest called Out of Tune Idol. Despite her best efforts the judges of that contest hated her guts.

Because she was just TOO AWESOME.

Go and vote (in the comment section) at Out of Tune Idol Week 2- One Hit Wonders!

You'll notice a certain extra guitarist in this week's video, my also awesome buddy Marcia.

You can see her blog here and her amazing artwork for sale here.

Climbed aboard the Dream Weaver train...

I check The Book of Faces a couple times a day, mainly to waste time I don't have to waste.

Imagine my excitement when I found a message from Steam Me Up Kid's Becky sitting idly by, waiting for my perusal!


Between You and Steamme Upkid

Steamme Upkid March 8 at 1:50pm

I had a bad dream about you last night. Armageddon was here and I couldn't get you out of bed to come with me to safety. I needed to rescue my dogs too, but you were dilly dallying and wouldn't get dressed. You might have been on sleeping pills. Also, you were wearing my underwear, but I decided not to confront you about it because of the armageddon. Are you okay?

I was very impressed by the fact that Becky was so concerned for my well being and also impressed at being so accurately depicted in a dream by a practically strange stranger.

But also totally freaked out. Not because Becky was dreaming about me (who doesn't dream about me from to time to time, right?), but rather because:

I HAD A DREAM ABOUT A FELLOW BLOGGER LAST NIGHT AS WELL!!! AHHHH!!!

In my dreams last night Vic flew me out to California to stay for a week and visit with her and her family. In my dream she wasn't anything that she portrays herself to be on her blog.
Instead of being a teacher she was a strung out, overworked and high powered attorney.

Instead of two teen-ish children she had one toddler, a spoiled princess who she insisted on calling 'Tay'.

And instead of inviting me for a week of hanging out and talking about...blogging...

She had instead kidnapped me to care for Princess Tay. Despite the obvious problems with this situation, she was oblivious to the illegality and sadistic proclivities of her actions. She kept me in the house by putting a strange shock (collar) necklace on me and Princess Tay kept a remote control to the locks on the doors and windows.

Vic and Tay may have wanted me to stay forever and ever, but Vic's husband did not. He was a sad man with hunched shoulders and non descript features. He would put me and Tay in his car and drive us silently to the airport and leave us there. Vic would find us there soon after and take us home.

It just went on like this. Vic...why oh why? I did look very thin in the dream though...which is a plus.

THEN to make matters even stranger Jules posted this post today.

ABOUT KIDNAPPING ME! WHAT!?!?

So my friends...what did I do in your dreams last night?

No School

On Monday I will be registering The Web's Favorite Baby Girl, Maxine Jane, for Kindergarten.

I have all the paperwork in order. I am mentally prepared. I think that it is going to be awesome for her. I hope that she gains experiences and exceeds every expectation.

But Maxine Jane does not want to go.

Our usually articulate heroine gives shorts whiny answers the all the inevitable school questions.

"Are you ready for school in the fall, Max?"

"Aghhhhh. No School."

"Are you excited to meet your teacher?"

"Nooooo schoooollll."

"Maxine...did you know that you get a treat everyday in school?"

"Candy?"

"Not always...sometimes crackers, some-"

"-Nooooooooo candyyyy nooooo schoolllllllllll."

Oh Boy. She doesn't cry or throw a fit and is pretty easily placated on the matter, like she knows that she's attending after 'the summer is over', but she's going to go begrudgingly. Very begrudgingly.

This morning I brought up to her that we would be able to get her a bunch of new clothes for school.

"No School."

"Ok Max. I get it. You don't want to go to school. But I don't think you realize how awesome it's going to be. Lots of kids to play with, lots of treats, lots of coloring, a fun bus ride...you will be such a big girl. "

Cue the tears, my tears.

"Momma. Don't cry. I'll only be gone for a bit."

"No School."

Hippity Hoppity Erin's Having a Sale!

I love bunnies and I love spring, so it's only appropriate that Easter is one of my favorite holidays.

Dressing sweet angel babies in adorable pastel colors, coloring several thousand dozens of eggs, running around in the bright sun, making up baskets with little gifts and giant chocolate bunnies.

See? We've come full circle.

My store is full of appropriate Easter gifts (which was pointed out to me by Rose, my oldest, who reprimanded my thoroughly for not having an Easter Sale).

Want to get some unique for your niece or nephew this year? Just a small token, something thoughtful? Meet Loverly, Snickers and Stripey Bunny, adorable Cuddlers handmade by me and hazard free for the smallest baby. All named by Maxine Jane and all on sale right now.

Want to make a sweet Easter basket for your teenage daughter? How about a custom scarf and a set of Organic Cotton Face Scrubbettes?

Baby's first Easter? Order a custom bunny hat, kitty cat hat or bear hat!

Is a loved one in your life having a Spring Baby? Nothing is a more appropriate gift than a handmade baby blanket!

Want to discuss an order with me? Want to toss around a custom order idea? Don't want to order from etsy? Email me oliverosetree@yahoo.com! I do discounts for blog friends and bulk orders.


See Humphrey the Owl, stuffed with love and in his new home here!

See my latest happy customer here!

I'm A Contender! No, I Can't Box..No One Hit Me. Please.

So once upon a time there was this contest dreamt up by my friend Julesy at her uber excellent blog Mean Girl Garage.

It is called Out of Tune Idol and was inspired by her own Out of Tune Tuesday where she would make her Barbies do strange things while she warbled awesome songs at us.

Now it's my turn!

Check out Out of Tune Idol right now (or later...I don't want to rush you, I know how busy you are) and vote!

If you haven't watched my new product demo or haven't seen our bathroom hidden camera antics, click here. You might want to click there and watch it again if you have already seen it. I have watched it several times. And plan on watching it again right now.