Only Me
December 22, 2013
Things that make me shake my head and say “Only Me.”
Ok, so it’s time to update all of you on the strange and bizarre in life that is me. Fun times. I often sit back and wonder if I am heaven’s comedy reel. Like seriously, how does all this weird stuff happen to me??
A few days ago I was at the grocery store, and I was trying to reach the yogurt, but it was on the top shelf in the cooler, which I am too short to reach.
Normally, I’ll just ask someone taller who is in the general area, or more often, when no one is around, like that day, I’ll just climb on the first or second shelf. But that day, the situation looked…questionable. It was in the cooler section behind the glass doors, and the first shelf looked slightly unstable. So, I decided, “you know what, I don’t really need yogurt, cuz I don’t really need a broken face.” I turn around to leave, and some 987 year old woman says to me, I kid you not, “Sweetie, can you reach some yogurt for me?” Well, gee grandma, I can’t say no to you, of course I will.
So, I climb on the first shelf, and the ENTIRE SHELVING SYSTEM rolls back like four inches, and the door CLOSES BEHIND ME. Then I hear it. That “Vrooooom” sound of the cooler re-cooling. Which apparently creates suction. BECA– USE THE DOOR WON’T OPEN. I am COMPLETELY in the cooler, holding onto the shelving system, standing on the second shelf, facing it, with my ass pressed against the suctioned shut door, and I’m stuck. Literally, there is no wiggle room. AND WHERE THE HELL IS GRANDMA?? I am actually stuck IN the yogurt cooler at the grocery store.
Well this is certainly a high point in my day. Finally the vrooming stops and the door is able to be pushed open WITH MY ASS, and I climb out. There are like five people standing there starting at me. It’s like I’m the freaking bimbo display at the zoo. And grandma? No where to be found. Well this is just great.
In other news, I took a plane last week with my kids.
That was fun.
I sort of feel like I deserve an award or something for bringing them both back alive, especially since the 2 year old boy child boarded a plane going to Kansas, all by his little old self.
Seriously.
I was getting a tag for the stroller so I could gate check it, and he was sitting just a few feet away from me. I had my eye on him the entire time, and he wasn’t moving, so I was ok with it. But then the rolling suitcase tipped over and in the moment it took me to upright it, he BOLTED with the lightening speed that only a two year old can posses. I’m standing there with the stroller, suitcase, and girl child, conveniently while the airport is playing its continuous loop of “Due to federal guidelines, it is unlawful to leave luggage unattended in an airport.”
So, I start to drag it all with me.
Then I realize he is getting farther away. So I abandon it. Then I think they might arrest me or something, so I turn around and grab it. Then I decide I don’t care and I run after the boy child. Just in time for him to slip behind a family handing their boarding passes to a ticketing agent and go running down whatever that hallway thing is called that leads to the plane.
I go running up there, and some woman literally jumps in front of me and yells “No line cutting! Back of the line! I was first!!” I’m a little panicked, but manage to spit out “No, my son just ran onto the plane!” and the ticketing agent was all “well, you will get on when it’s your turn,” and I’m all “No, he is only two, he isn’t flying,” and the agent is all “Well ma’am, that is much too young to be flying alone, you should not have put him on alone.” And I’m all “I didn’t! He ran on, you didn’t see him, I need to get him!” And the agent is all “I’ve been here the entire time, he must have had a boarding pass!”
At this point I’m envisioning him opening the emergency door and inflating a very expensive blow up slide, and wondering exactly how much bail money would be required if I was to storm the airplane. Eventually, as I am standing there arguing with the ironically blonde agent, a flight attendant comes walking out with the boy child, saying that no one on the plane will claim him. I WILL CLAIM HIM THANK YOU VERY MUCH. And then I will lock him in my suitcase until I get home.
Normally, I’ll just ask someone taller who is in the general area, or more often, when no one is around, like that day, I’ll just climb on the first or second shelf. But that day, the situation looked…questionable. It was in the cooler section behind the glass doors, and the first shelf looked slightly unstable. So, I decided, “you know what, I don’t really need yogurt, cuz I don’t really need a broken face.” I turn around to leave, and some 987 year old woman says to me, I kid you not, “Sweetie, can you reach some yogurt for me?” Well, gee grandma, I can’t say no to you, of course I will.
So, I climb on the first shelf, and the ENTIRE SHELVING SYSTEM rolls back like four inches, and the door CLOSES BEHIND ME. Then I hear it. That “Vrooooom” sound of the cooler re-cooling. Which apparently creates suction. BECA– USE THE DOOR WON’T OPEN. I am COMPLETELY in the cooler, holding onto the shelving system, standing on the second shelf, facing it, with my ass pressed against the suctioned shut door, and I’m stuck. Literally, there is no wiggle room. AND WHERE THE HELL IS GRANDMA?? I am actually stuck IN the yogurt cooler at the grocery store.
Well this is certainly a high point in my day. Finally the vrooming stops and the door is able to be pushed open WITH MY ASS, and I climb out. There are like five people standing there starting at me. It’s like I’m the freaking bimbo display at the zoo. And grandma? No where to be found. Well this is just great.
In other news, I took a plane last week with my kids.
That was fun.
I sort of feel like I deserve an award or something for bringing them both back alive, especially since the 2 year old boy child boarded a plane going to Kansas, all by his little old self.
Seriously.
I was getting a tag for the stroller so I could gate check it, and he was sitting just a few feet away from me. I had my eye on him the entire time, and he wasn’t moving, so I was ok with it. But then the rolling suitcase tipped over and in the moment it took me to upright it, he BOLTED with the lightening speed that only a two year old can posses. I’m standing there with the stroller, suitcase, and girl child, conveniently while the airport is playing its continuous loop of “Due to federal guidelines, it is unlawful to leave luggage unattended in an airport.”
So, I start to drag it all with me.
Then I realize he is getting farther away. So I abandon it. Then I think they might arrest me or something, so I turn around and grab it. Then I decide I don’t care and I run after the boy child. Just in time for him to slip behind a family handing their boarding passes to a ticketing agent and go running down whatever that hallway thing is called that leads to the plane.
I go running up there, and some woman literally jumps in front of me and yells “No line cutting! Back of the line! I was first!!” I’m a little panicked, but manage to spit out “No, my son just ran onto the plane!” and the ticketing agent was all “well, you will get on when it’s your turn,” and I’m all “No, he is only two, he isn’t flying,” and the agent is all “Well ma’am, that is much too young to be flying alone, you should not have put him on alone.” And I’m all “I didn’t! He ran on, you didn’t see him, I need to get him!” And the agent is all “I’ve been here the entire time, he must have had a boarding pass!”
At this point I’m envisioning him opening the emergency door and inflating a very expensive blow up slide, and wondering exactly how much bail money would be required if I was to storm the airplane. Eventually, as I am standing there arguing with the ironically blonde agent, a flight attendant comes walking out with the boy child, saying that no one on the plane will claim him. I WILL CLAIM HIM THANK YOU VERY MUCH. And then I will lock him in my suitcase until I get home.
 |
| Why yes, I did leash my girl child and tie her to her brother. |
Speaking of locking people in suitcases, while on vacation, there was this weirdo guy that worked in the food court area of the hotel. Every time he would see me come in, he would leave his post as the ice cream scooper, and try to chat me up.
“So, do you come here often?” he said in his creepiest voice.
No, that’s why it’s called vacation.
“Would you like to do something tonight?” No, not really. “Tomorrow?” No. Never. “So, you like the color pink huh?” Uh, yeah, I guess so. “Well your shirt is hot pink, and so are your running shoes.”
Yea, I like to try and make sure my attire matches, it’s a little life skill I’ve picked up along the way, THANKS FOR NOTICING.
“And your phone has a pink case!” Ok, well, I guess ya got me. I like pink. Don’t tell anyone. “Your kids look JUST like you!”
They look nothing like me. Their skin is like five shades darker than mine because they are %50 native american. “They are just tan. I bet you’re tan too.” Tan where dude? Tan under my clothes and not on any of my exposed skin? My family is from Dublin. I don’t have a cell in my body that tans. “Well they have your eyes.” They have the darkest brown eyes I have ever seen. I have the bluest eyes I have ever seen.
Can we just stop talking now?
The next day: “Hey you, I was waiting for you today. I get a discount at the gift shop, if you want to go shopping. I was able to get %50 off of the engagement ring I bought my fiancé.” Ok. First off, fiancé? Secondly, you bought her engagement ring in a hotel gift shop, on a discount!? “Where are your kids?” They were bothering me so I locked them in a suitcase and put them in the closest. “Oh.” Dude, I’m kidding. “Oh, yea, of course.” I mailed them home. Fed Ex, overnight, packed them a few snacks. “Oh, so does that mean you are free tonight?” Dude, STOP TALKING.
Oh, but before we stray too far away from the topic of airplanes, who would have thought I would have sat next to someone weird on the plane?
Me, encounter a strange character? No…never!!
So as the plane is taking off, this woman in the row across from me lean’s over and asks me if I want a magazine. I politely thank her and tell her I am jealous that she gets to read magazines, because I’ll bewrestling, wrangling, drugging, loving on my two adorable children during the flight.
“Oh, well here, take a few for your hotel then,” she says and tries to hand me seriously, like 25 magazines. “Oh, wow, you sure did bring a lot, didn’t you?” I say in an awkwardly forced laugh. “I’ve been collecting them for a month now, I figured everyone on the plane would like some reading material. I never pay for them, I just steal them” she says proudly. (Um…what!?) “These five came from the nail salon, this one came from the gas station, (she is now flipping through the stack) these three, no…four….no, only three, yea, these three came from my doctors office” she explains.
“Oh wow,” I relent, “you weren’t kidding.” “Well why on earth would I pay for something that I can get for free?” she says in her most shocked voice. “They are mostly ads anyways, so the magazine companies should expect that people aren’t going to pay for that!! So, here, take these,” she says as she leans across the aisle holding a stack way heavier then she is stabilized to hold, and nearly falls into the aisle. “No, really, thanks, I’m ok” I assure her, while pasting on my best forced smile.”
“You don’t want any!? Then why did I BRING ALL OF THESE!?” she proclaims in a clearly aggravated high pitched tone.
Whoa, ok….”you know what, on second thought,” I say out of sheer terror (I am trapped on a plane with her you know), “I could probably use a few for after the kids go to bed” “I knew it!” she screeches joyously as she happily hands me about a seven inch thick stack of magazines.
WONDERFUL. Now I have to travel with two kids, a stroller, luggage, and a six pounds of stolen merchandise. Faaaaaantastic. She then proceeds to forcefully offer me more unwanted items throughout the entire flight. Her half drank water for my son’s sippy cup, a lap for my daughter to sit on and color, her phone number, her picture taking skills, her sweater, some sort of homemade meat snacks in a baggie, and a million other things that I have thankfully blocked from my memory.
Thankfully, I survived that, and once we were safely in our hotel at night, I would literally hide under the covers in bed, and pretend to be asleep until the kids were asleep (darn one room wasn’t working out very well!). It was really hard to stay silent while I would hear — coming from the crib, straight from the mouth of a 2 yr old Boy Child in a tiny two year old boy child voice, “I no tired. I no night-night! How you day wuz mommy? How you day wuz? You day good mommy? Mommy? You day good? Mommy, why you no talk me? You no talk me mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Be nice mommy. Moooommmmmy, beeeee nice mommy, beeeee niiiiice. BE NICE MOMMY!!”
Then, he climbed right out of the pack and play and onto the bed with his sister, put his head on her pillow, and his arm around her.
I sat up, and at the speed of light he hopped off her bed and scaled himself back into the pack and play. I stared at him, he stared at me, we stared at each other, and then, totally stone faced, he said, “I do nothing.”
“Ohhhhh rrrrreeeeally little man, because I am pretty sure I just saw you climb back in there.” “No, not me. Me no do dat. Me seeping,” he says, looking at me like I have completely lost my mind.
Then flops himself down and goes right to sleep.
Me, encounter a strange character? No…never!!
So as the plane is taking off, this woman in the row across from me lean’s over and asks me if I want a magazine. I politely thank her and tell her I am jealous that she gets to read magazines, because I’ll be
“Oh, well here, take a few for your hotel then,” she says and tries to hand me seriously, like 25 magazines. “Oh, wow, you sure did bring a lot, didn’t you?” I say in an awkwardly forced laugh. “I’ve been collecting them for a month now, I figured everyone on the plane would like some reading material. I never pay for them, I just steal them” she says proudly. (Um…what!?) “These five came from the nail salon, this one came from the gas station, (she is now flipping through the stack) these three, no…four….no, only three, yea, these three came from my doctors office” she explains.
“Oh wow,” I relent, “you weren’t kidding.” “Well why on earth would I pay for something that I can get for free?” she says in her most shocked voice. “They are mostly ads anyways, so the magazine companies should expect that people aren’t going to pay for that!! So, here, take these,” she says as she leans across the aisle holding a stack way heavier then she is stabilized to hold, and nearly falls into the aisle. “No, really, thanks, I’m ok” I assure her, while pasting on my best forced smile.”
“You don’t want any!? Then why did I BRING ALL OF THESE!?” she proclaims in a clearly aggravated high pitched tone.
Whoa, ok….”you know what, on second thought,” I say out of sheer terror (I am trapped on a plane with her you know), “I could probably use a few for after the kids go to bed” “I knew it!” she screeches joyously as she happily hands me about a seven inch thick stack of magazines.
WONDERFUL. Now I have to travel with two kids, a stroller, luggage, and a six pounds of stolen merchandise. Faaaaaantastic. She then proceeds to forcefully offer me more unwanted items throughout the entire flight. Her half drank water for my son’s sippy cup, a lap for my daughter to sit on and color, her phone number, her picture taking skills, her sweater, some sort of homemade meat snacks in a baggie, and a million other things that I have thankfully blocked from my memory.
Thankfully, I survived that, and once we were safely in our hotel at night, I would literally hide under the covers in bed, and pretend to be asleep until the kids were asleep (darn one room wasn’t working out very well!). It was really hard to stay silent while I would hear — coming from the crib, straight from the mouth of a 2 yr old Boy Child in a tiny two year old boy child voice, “I no tired. I no night-night! How you day wuz mommy? How you day wuz? You day good mommy? Mommy? You day good? Mommy, why you no talk me? You no talk me mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Be nice mommy. Moooommmmmy, beeeee nice mommy, beeeee niiiiice. BE NICE MOMMY!!”
Then, he climbed right out of the pack and play and onto the bed with his sister, put his head on her pillow, and his arm around her.
I sat up, and at the speed of light he hopped off her bed and scaled himself back into the pack and play. I stared at him, he stared at me, we stared at each other, and then, totally stone faced, he said, “I do nothing.”
“Ohhhhh rrrrreeeeally little man, because I am pretty sure I just saw you climb back in there.” “No, not me. Me no do dat. Me seeping,” he says, looking at me like I have completely lost my mind.
Then flops himself down and goes right to sleep.
Moving on, a couple days later I’m sitting in a downtown area with a girlfriend, on a bench, and I am just about to point out a cop to her that TOTALLY looked like a stripper cop, you know, like the kind you rent for parties, when suddenly I don’t see him anymore… until he leans directly in between our heads and says “Do you ladies know why I am here?”
I about die laughing as “Jorge” tells us something totally non important. Then, my friend, who is in the middle of a conversation where what she said next was actually relevant, says “Bring the heat, I have something big to show you,” and I SERIOUSLY think my heart might explode from choking down laughter.
After he leaves, for some odd reason we decide that we should have gotten a picture of the hot stripper cop, with AMAZING teeth (I seriously don’t know what it is about teeth, flash me some super white teeth and I will have a hard time not ripping your clothes off). So me, being the unabashed person that I am, decides, sure, why the hell not, I’ll go get his picture.
So I stalk him.
Because that’s normal, and we all know how normal I amnot. Then, while looking at the photo of him on my camera to see if it turned out, I run my face DIRECTLY into his chest. When I tell my friend about it, she asks me “Well did he flash his pearly whites at you?” To which I reply “He sure did!” and she says “Well played Jorge, well played.” And this is why we are friends.
I about die laughing as “Jorge” tells us something totally non important. Then, my friend, who is in the middle of a conversation where what she said next was actually relevant, says “Bring the heat, I have something big to show you,” and I SERIOUSLY think my heart might explode from choking down laughter.
After he leaves, for some odd reason we decide that we should have gotten a picture of the hot stripper cop, with AMAZING teeth (I seriously don’t know what it is about teeth, flash me some super white teeth and I will have a hard time not ripping your clothes off). So me, being the unabashed person that I am, decides, sure, why the hell not, I’ll go get his picture.
So I stalk him.
Because that’s normal, and we all know how normal I am
But anyway, now I’m back home and let’s pretend we were talking about something that had to do with food so that I can segway into.. “and to end the week, a little food porn for you.”
You can’t have people over to watch the game without the world’s best nachos and homemade chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwiches!
Peace out people, and have a wonderful day!
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So I came to check out your blog, as you invited me to from xojane. Big laughs! Your son sounds adorbs! I could totally picture him in the pack n play and hear his little guy voice (although in my head, it sounds like my son when he was that age – so cute!). And you stuck in the yogurt case – I would pay big money for pics of that scene! I'll be back – thanks for the laughs! traves
So glad you made it over here!! Love having you 🙂 Oh my gosh, I’d pay big bucks (if I had them) to get the security tape of the yogurt cooler. I’d love to see it lol! Oh my gosh. I’m a bright one…
I love everything about you girlee!!! You ARE freaking AWESOME!!!;)
Hahahaha Awesome!!!!
Sweet love – I fell into here from the XO site, no idea how I got there, but I am here, where I am meant to be. I have read just a few of your posts; I adore your exquisite use of language and appreciate your fearlessness. I too, finally, came to fearlessness. After being sexually molested by my grandfather at 2 1/2 and never “getting over it,” I have finally accepted to this is how I am built. Maybe more destructive was being the object of his scapegoating behavior – constantly berated for my exuberance and seemingly endless energy. I spent years in therapy, in workshops, doing whatever I could to fix the flaw of myself. I had the wisdom in my early thirties, just starting with a psychoanalyst, to bring my folks in for a session. Months later, hearing the words, “your parents are crazy,” those words were transformative for me. Finally, someone listened to my anxious self and didn't blame me, didn't argue with me, and didn't chastise and tell me that wasn't what I was feeling. I can so much relate to your feeling of numbness. When you hear someone define you for so long, its hard to figure out who and what you are.I'm with you on this journey; with your evocative and funny-filled way of expressing yourself. I have found for the past two years that there are times I have to write; I am impelled from inside to get the words out.I urge you to not get caught up in the praise people are raining upon you. Praise can make us lose what we know about who we are and create an alternate, unknown reality. And then it again becomes someone else telling us about us. Your authenticity, your bold honesty and mode of expression, they are the gifts. Let yourself feel the peace of being honest with your friend about who you are right now. Accept yourself with every ounce of your being. I encourage you to be okay with wherever you are.I have found that if I hew with the facts, I will know the next step. And I can't rush it, and I definitely need to s l o w i t a l l d o w n. Thank you for continuing to tell your story, and for bringing the darkness into the light.I have one more thing to add from my own experience: I have grown very weary of people who talk about being “good Christians.” There is no such thing as a good Christian. There are good people, with loving, open hearts who give of themselves. There are good people who walk the walk with the suffering, and share from their own place of grace. Those people don't need to quote scripture, tell us what they are, or advertise that they attend bible study weekly—-those people show who they are through their actions. Those people know that we are all connected, that the path to wholeness is accepting ourselves first, in all of what we are, and from there, accepting others.
Thank you so much for taking the time to share your story with me. I am so sorry to hear that you went through all of that, but I am SO happy to see you on the other side here with us.
You are so right, I also spent YEARS thinking I was flawed, that something was wrong with me. It wasn’t until my therapist told me that I was the family scapegoat bc I was the only one swimming against the stream. I was the only one that refused to give in to the crazy. What a difference a new outlook made on the way I looked at myself.
I am a Christian, a very strong believer. I am also flawed, imperfect, and constantly striving to better my relationship with Christ. The only thing that I claim to be as a Christian, is a person who believes Christ is my savior, and that I am striving to have a relationship with him. After that, I admit that I am imperfect, better than no one, and in no position to judge anyone for their choices. I will never become my mother in that sense, for she is exactly what Christ was against. Love, not condemnation.
I am glad that you have found your way here, and I look forward to walking this journey of healing with you. Welcome to the blog hun 🙂
I love you so much. You are so amazing. You seem to have a lot of fun and great friends. And you are smart, bubbly, and goodhearted. I actually don't know anybody in real life like you.
Aw thanks 🙂 If you met me in real life you might not like me as much haha! I am quite the odd bird 😉
“The more you refuse to hear my voiceThe louder I will singYou hide behind walls of JerichoYour lies will come tumblingDeny my place in timeYou squander wealth that's mineMy light will shine so brightlyIt will blind youCos there's……Something inside so strongI know that I can make itTho' you're doing me wrong, so wrongYou thought that my pride was goneOh no, something inside so strongOh oh oh oh oh something inside so strongBrothers and sistersWhen they insist we're just not good enoughWhen we know betterJust look 'em in the eyes and sayI'm gonna do it anywayI'm gonna do it anyway…”(Labi Siffre”Something Inside So Strong” Lyrics)
OK, the freezer incident – way tooooo hilarious, especially that granny bailed 🙂 Way too hilarious.So, one day, my Mom is here, and we have a snack shack a drive away, and we decide we want a yummy greasy lunch. My youngest was still living in a car seat, and my eldest was a 3&1/2. My Mom and I wanted wine, which the store was a block away, and she was to keep both Girls with her, while the food was being prepared, and I go pick up said wine. And then I would come back, pick them up, and we'd be on our merry way, eat our lunch at home – and there you go, a happy 3 generation of ladies…So I head out, pick up the wine, waiting to pa, and what do I hear from an adult man walking in the store? “A child here is lost and looking for her mother”. I look at the front door, and who do I see? My eldest…can you just imagine where my heart was inside my body – not where it's meant to be. Once I put my heart back where it belongs…I claim my child, and try to ask with a calm voice “Why aren't you Grand-Maman?” Holy Shit, a child wandering off on it's own is the most stressful thing for a mother – and a grandmother. When my Mom saw my eldest returned safely, my Mother was nearly in tears. She doesn't have the health to run after a three year old with car seat in hand. She felt absolutely awful about it all. My Mom and I (and eldest child) all agreed to never talk about it…everybody survived. To this day, it's our secret…which I'm sharing with you 🙂
Oh my gosh! I can’t imagine who would have been more scared, your mom or you. Certainly not the proud three year old who was in the most danger. How scary!
I just laughed out loud (in work) at the freezer part!
Haha!!! Glad you got a good laugh 🙂