I don't know if I should post this, because it makes me look like a mean, sarcastic person who potentially causes her kids undue stress, but I'm sort of frustrated and annoyed and so hey, why not show my bad side. I've certainly done it before.
My husband drinks a beer every evening. Just one and really not an entire one. He pours a good amount of tomato juice in a beer glass and then fills the rest of the glass up with beer. Usually there is beer left in the bottle and I dump it down the drain, or add it to my food, depending on what I am cooking. You would be surprised at the wonderful flavor a good beer will leave in certain stews.
Greg used to drink a glass of wine every night but read that this new concoction was better for you and since he cares about his health he decided to go for it with the beer and tomato juice combo.
So the night before last he left his beer cap on the counter and usually this drives me nuts and I immediately pick it up and throw it away, but this time I didn't pick it up. Anthony did though. He saw it at some point and stuck it in his pocket and took it to school where he decided to take it out and show someone. Or as he put it, "well, I forgot it was there and then I was like Hey, what's this in my pocket,and I pulled it out and the teacher saw me and took it away. I'll go get my agenda."
His agenda is where he keeps his assignments and where the teacher writes notes when she has something nice to tell me about Anthony. Or something not nice, depending on what he's done. So right there in his agenda was the bottle cap, taped heavily onto the page, with a note written by his teacher and it said - Anthony said he took this off of your kitchen counter and took it to school. I explained to him that he can't show other children these sorts of things."
She didn't have to tape it to his agenda, did she? She could have thrown it away and simply sent a note home telling me what he had done. She could have written an amusing note in which she gently teased me about it, making me feel as though she understood she doesn't think I'm a drunk. She could have brought humor to the situation, because nothing makes me feel more at ease than when someone makes me laugh and lets me know they are not judging me. But something about the bottle cap being taped (and taped with several layers of tape, too) to his agenda made it seem so mean spirited and obnoxious.
So I figured if she wasn't going to bring levity to the situation, I would. I left the bottle cap taped to the agenda, because honestly, it would have taken a lot of work to remove it, and I wrote my own little note back... Mrs. X (not her real name) this must be the bottle cap from the beer me and Anthony split for breakfast in the morning. Kindly, A.M. Hacic.
And then I called Greg and we laughed, because Greg and I like to laugh together and we almost always find the same immature things amusing, which isn't always good. His laughing made me think it was a good idea to go ahead and send the note in, so I did. But as soon as I dropped Anthony off at school this morning, I wanted to go chase him down and tackle him and rip the page out of his agenda, because if there is one thing I have learned about his teacher over the past few months, it is that she has absolutely no sense of humor and she will perhaps take her annoyance out on Anthony.
Between this and the non-stop, loud farting my boy is a marked man. I am now sitting and waiting for him to get home so I can open the agenda and see if she wrote anything back. I only hope that at some point today she grew a sense of humor and found it slightly amusing.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
Sunday Adventures with Anthony
Went to the 7:30 a.m. Mass, just me and him, because he was an alter server . It was his first time and he clearly had no idea what he was doing, as evidenced by his deer in the headlights look through the entire Mass.
He begged me to take him to McDonald's afterward, because he thought he had done such a bang up job (of standing at the alter and looking petrified)and said he deserved a treat. We sat staring at the drive thru menu screen for a couple of minutes while Anthony repeated the words, "um, I'm still deciding," over and over again, until he finally told me he didn't actually want anything now, but by lunchtime he would want something and so I could take him back then.
When we got home, Greg left with Kate and Jane for the 9:30 Mass and I was glad to be home in relative quiet, until I heard Anthony screaming and carrying on in a manner that led me to believe he was nearing death, and then I wasn't so glad to be home. His Nintendo ds broke and he just got it for Christmas and the world was ending and oh my goodness, how would he survive, I mean how was he going to go to the bathroom without his ds, which was where he happened to be when he found that it wasn't working.
I went in my room and laid on my bed and wondered. I'm not going to say what I wondered about. I just did a lot of wondering. I laid there while Anthony sobbed and screamed and I just figured the best thing to do was not say a word and let him deal with it by himself, which he did finally do.
I heard him pick up the phone and call a number and press a couple of other numbers, until he got the right person, and then I heard him say, "Hi, um, my ds isn't working but when I plug it in it goes on, but the screen is blank and I want to know why it's doing that. I just got it for Christmas. Why is it doing that?" And then he said a couple of other things and finally, "well, I don't have an email number, but my mom has an email number, do you want hers because she is home and I can ask her for her email number. Do you want it now? Hello? You want her email number now? Now?" I couldn't take it anymore and yelled out "address, email address, not email number," and then I got up and grabbed the phone and gave the Nintendo guy my email number and it turns out they are going to fix the thing for free.
Anthony had gotten the number for Nintendo off of the back of his ds. He was pretty proud of himself. It's amazing how resourceful he can be under certain circumstances. This a kid who consistently forgets to wash his hair when he is in the shower, but whatever, it's all about priorities.
After all of that excitement it was finally time to head back to McDonald's where he happily ate like a pig and consumed enough calories to start pestering me to bring him to the pool, which I agreed to do, because I guess when all is said and done, I can just never get enough time with Anthony.
No one else in the family wanted to go with us, so we headed off and after swimming for exactly two minutes he told me he was thirsty and if he didn't get something to drink he wouldn't be able to swim and we would have to go home. But I was relaxing and didn't want to go home, so I ignored him. I figured maybe he would be resourceful again and find a way to get himself a drink, which he did. It involved finding a glass behind the outdoor bar at the pool, (an outdoor bar that most likely hasn't been used in the past decade) going to the bathroom and rinsing it out with hand soap and filling it up with bathroom water. Hey, it's been several hours and he still isn't sick.
The water pleased him enough that we managed to stay a while longer and then we came home and had dinner and at seven p.m. he told me he had a book report due. Oops. He's been on vacation for the past week and half and he thought that was the perfect time to tell me about it. I told him he must be mistaken because I had checked his book bag last week and there was nothing in it indicating he had any homework. And he said "oh, well, I guess I left the assignment at school."
I had done a fair job all day of letting him solve his own problems so I decided to run with it and I said, "well, you're going to have to figure out what to tell the teacher, because I think you may have purposely left your assignment at school and I am not getting you out of this one." To which he said, "oh, I'll just go ask Hunter what we were supposed to do, he did his last week."
He headed down to the Hunter's house and asked him exactly what he was supposed to do for the report and came home and did his work and said, "see, no problem, my teacher will never know I almost didn't do it," but I'm guessing she might because it's almost as much of a bang up job as his first attempt at alter serving.
Anthony, I really love you, but you wear me out in so many little ways. My hope for you is that you grow up and get married and have a son just like you, because only then will you realize how exhausting you are. But really, I do love you...even when I got that phone call today from the nurse telling me you had gotten in trouble for farting really loud, over and over and over again, I still love you, maybe even a little more than I did yesterday.
He begged me to take him to McDonald's afterward, because he thought he had done such a bang up job (of standing at the alter and looking petrified)and said he deserved a treat. We sat staring at the drive thru menu screen for a couple of minutes while Anthony repeated the words, "um, I'm still deciding," over and over again, until he finally told me he didn't actually want anything now, but by lunchtime he would want something and so I could take him back then.
When we got home, Greg left with Kate and Jane for the 9:30 Mass and I was glad to be home in relative quiet, until I heard Anthony screaming and carrying on in a manner that led me to believe he was nearing death, and then I wasn't so glad to be home. His Nintendo ds broke and he just got it for Christmas and the world was ending and oh my goodness, how would he survive, I mean how was he going to go to the bathroom without his ds, which was where he happened to be when he found that it wasn't working.
I went in my room and laid on my bed and wondered. I'm not going to say what I wondered about. I just did a lot of wondering. I laid there while Anthony sobbed and screamed and I just figured the best thing to do was not say a word and let him deal with it by himself, which he did finally do.
I heard him pick up the phone and call a number and press a couple of other numbers, until he got the right person, and then I heard him say, "Hi, um, my ds isn't working but when I plug it in it goes on, but the screen is blank and I want to know why it's doing that. I just got it for Christmas. Why is it doing that?" And then he said a couple of other things and finally, "well, I don't have an email number, but my mom has an email number, do you want hers because she is home and I can ask her for her email number. Do you want it now? Hello? You want her email number now? Now?" I couldn't take it anymore and yelled out "address, email address, not email number," and then I got up and grabbed the phone and gave the Nintendo guy my email number and it turns out they are going to fix the thing for free.
Anthony had gotten the number for Nintendo off of the back of his ds. He was pretty proud of himself. It's amazing how resourceful he can be under certain circumstances. This a kid who consistently forgets to wash his hair when he is in the shower, but whatever, it's all about priorities.
After all of that excitement it was finally time to head back to McDonald's where he happily ate like a pig and consumed enough calories to start pestering me to bring him to the pool, which I agreed to do, because I guess when all is said and done, I can just never get enough time with Anthony.
No one else in the family wanted to go with us, so we headed off and after swimming for exactly two minutes he told me he was thirsty and if he didn't get something to drink he wouldn't be able to swim and we would have to go home. But I was relaxing and didn't want to go home, so I ignored him. I figured maybe he would be resourceful again and find a way to get himself a drink, which he did. It involved finding a glass behind the outdoor bar at the pool, (an outdoor bar that most likely hasn't been used in the past decade) going to the bathroom and rinsing it out with hand soap and filling it up with bathroom water. Hey, it's been several hours and he still isn't sick.
The water pleased him enough that we managed to stay a while longer and then we came home and had dinner and at seven p.m. he told me he had a book report due. Oops. He's been on vacation for the past week and half and he thought that was the perfect time to tell me about it. I told him he must be mistaken because I had checked his book bag last week and there was nothing in it indicating he had any homework. And he said "oh, well, I guess I left the assignment at school."
I had done a fair job all day of letting him solve his own problems so I decided to run with it and I said, "well, you're going to have to figure out what to tell the teacher, because I think you may have purposely left your assignment at school and I am not getting you out of this one." To which he said, "oh, I'll just go ask Hunter what we were supposed to do, he did his last week."
He headed down to the Hunter's house and asked him exactly what he was supposed to do for the report and came home and did his work and said, "see, no problem, my teacher will never know I almost didn't do it," but I'm guessing she might because it's almost as much of a bang up job as his first attempt at alter serving.
Anthony, I really love you, but you wear me out in so many little ways. My hope for you is that you grow up and get married and have a son just like you, because only then will you realize how exhausting you are. But really, I do love you...even when I got that phone call today from the nurse telling me you had gotten in trouble for farting really loud, over and over and over again, I still love you, maybe even a little more than I did yesterday.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
day fifty five
This has nothing to do with my riding, but I'm sad and must speak of this horrid event...the passing of my beautiful red car. Yes, it's true, my lovely red car is going away. My car has been hissing and howling and causing my husband much stress lately. I think she is a perfect representation of me. Anyway, Greg decided to get me another car, but don't worry, he's Buffalo born and bred and so his standards for everything are real low, thank God, and he made sure to keep the budget for my "new" car in the hundreds, which means I'm getting another piece of crap. But this new car is not nearly as interesting as my old car. I mean yes, it's ugly and all but it's nondescript in it's ugliness. It's grey. That's the only thing I can think to say about it. I'm not even sure there is a single thing about it that is appealing or noteworthy.
I think my bike is worth more than my old car. We are selling her for the low, low price of 450.00, so yes, my bike is definitely worth more than the car. The car has no redeeming qualities. It makes various noises and produces all kinds of leaky spots in the drive-way. The c.d. player broke awhile ago and there is a film covering the windows that makes driving at night give new meaning to the term "white knuckling." It's truly death defying driving that car in the dark - or the rain - or any kind of weather that requires clear windows. It shakes when you drive over 60, and it's so loud inside the car when you are driving that fast that it's not worth even trying to speak. Kate actually believes the car is going to disintegrate at some point and she really wanted to keep it so she could see it happen. Every time we are in it she says, "doesn't it seem like the tires and doors are going to fall off whenever we hit a bump?" Having said all this, I'm now wondering why I'm sad that we are getting rid of her.
I think this is the reason - I was on my way somewhere today and a car pulled out in front of me. The driver of that car ended up pulling into the same place as I did. She got out and I realized I knew her and she smiled and yelled over to me, "I saw the car and knew it was you, so I knew I could pull out in front." See, this car has an identity. People know this car by sight. There is never any second guessing about whether or not it's my car. People just know.
Well, I guess I'm left with no choice - I must bang up the new car. I'm up for the task. I'm good at leaving identify marks on cars. We had a nice car once. It was the car I drove when I was a paper carrier back in Albany. It was a popular make of car with nothing to separate it from the thousands of others just like it on the road. But I made sure to swipe plenty of mailboxes while I was delivering my papers and darn if you couldn't start to spot that car in all the parking lots. I'll make my peace with all of this soon, but really I am going to miss annoying my neighbors with the hissing noise.
I think my bike is worth more than my old car. We are selling her for the low, low price of 450.00, so yes, my bike is definitely worth more than the car. The car has no redeeming qualities. It makes various noises and produces all kinds of leaky spots in the drive-way. The c.d. player broke awhile ago and there is a film covering the windows that makes driving at night give new meaning to the term "white knuckling." It's truly death defying driving that car in the dark - or the rain - or any kind of weather that requires clear windows. It shakes when you drive over 60, and it's so loud inside the car when you are driving that fast that it's not worth even trying to speak. Kate actually believes the car is going to disintegrate at some point and she really wanted to keep it so she could see it happen. Every time we are in it she says, "doesn't it seem like the tires and doors are going to fall off whenever we hit a bump?" Having said all this, I'm now wondering why I'm sad that we are getting rid of her.
I think this is the reason - I was on my way somewhere today and a car pulled out in front of me. The driver of that car ended up pulling into the same place as I did. She got out and I realized I knew her and she smiled and yelled over to me, "I saw the car and knew it was you, so I knew I could pull out in front." See, this car has an identity. People know this car by sight. There is never any second guessing about whether or not it's my car. People just know.
Well, I guess I'm left with no choice - I must bang up the new car. I'm up for the task. I'm good at leaving identify marks on cars. We had a nice car once. It was the car I drove when I was a paper carrier back in Albany. It was a popular make of car with nothing to separate it from the thousands of others just like it on the road. But I made sure to swipe plenty of mailboxes while I was delivering my papers and darn if you couldn't start to spot that car in all the parking lots. I'll make my peace with all of this soon, but really I am going to miss annoying my neighbors with the hissing noise.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
day thirty nine
I usually don't ride through downtown on my bike ride, but this morning I thought, hey Ann Marie, live on the edge, go through a different part of town! And all I can say is DE-PRESS-ING! I go downtown quite a bit but there are usually people there barricading me from reality. This morning no one was out because of the early hour. It seems that every other storefront in town is closed for business, permanently. Maggie's Attic, Hart's Store, The Irish Corner, all gone. And there are several others too and it made me question why I told the Gallop person who called with a list of endless questions last week that this town was doing better now than when I moved here three years ago. I mean for obvious reasons it is doing better in one sense - I'm here. I'm important and vital and exciting and wherever I go things truly are better but in other ways it most definitely is not better.
I feel sort of bad for telling the Gallop guy what I told him about my town. Maybe I can call him back. It was a fun phone call. They ask you all sorts of things about your health and your kids and your access to things like parks and medicine. And do you work, have you worked for pay in the past day, week, month or year. Finally, after saying no, no, no and no I started laughing and said, "I take care of my kids, please tell me there is a question that justifies me saying I haven't worked for pay in the last day, week, month or year because I have to be honest, I'm sounding pathetic." And there was a question about that. They even ask your weight and height and my husband heard me say 5' 4" and yelled out "okay, okay, who the hell are you on the phone with, hang up the phone, who the hell wants to know your height and weight." And so I mouth the words "Gallup poll" but I think he thinks I'm saying "@#$hole" and he keeps yelling to hang up the phone and finally I just say "IT'S A GALLOP POLL PERSON!" I mean this really was the most exciting thing to happen to me in a long time and there was no way I was going to hang up the phone.
There must have been a hundred questions and I answered them all, except for the one about my weight because seriously, how does that relate to anything? All of the questions are leading up to what they ultimately want to know which is, do you think as a country we are set for better days. To which I say yes, of course we are, because I honestly believe that to be the case. I still love my town, maybe even a little more than I did three years ago when we moved here and there wasn't a closed down store to be found, but I'll probably just skip riding through town tomorrow. Oh, and when you see the results of those polls keep in mind that people like me have answered them, clueless people willing to answer many inane questions all in an attempt to avoid having to deal with screaming kids who don't stop screaming for the entire ten minutes the poll takes place.
I feel sort of bad for telling the Gallop guy what I told him about my town. Maybe I can call him back. It was a fun phone call. They ask you all sorts of things about your health and your kids and your access to things like parks and medicine. And do you work, have you worked for pay in the past day, week, month or year. Finally, after saying no, no, no and no I started laughing and said, "I take care of my kids, please tell me there is a question that justifies me saying I haven't worked for pay in the last day, week, month or year because I have to be honest, I'm sounding pathetic." And there was a question about that. They even ask your weight and height and my husband heard me say 5' 4" and yelled out "okay, okay, who the hell are you on the phone with, hang up the phone, who the hell wants to know your height and weight." And so I mouth the words "Gallup poll" but I think he thinks I'm saying "@#$hole" and he keeps yelling to hang up the phone and finally I just say "IT'S A GALLOP POLL PERSON!" I mean this really was the most exciting thing to happen to me in a long time and there was no way I was going to hang up the phone.
There must have been a hundred questions and I answered them all, except for the one about my weight because seriously, how does that relate to anything? All of the questions are leading up to what they ultimately want to know which is, do you think as a country we are set for better days. To which I say yes, of course we are, because I honestly believe that to be the case. I still love my town, maybe even a little more than I did three years ago when we moved here and there wasn't a closed down store to be found, but I'll probably just skip riding through town tomorrow. Oh, and when you see the results of those polls keep in mind that people like me have answered them, clueless people willing to answer many inane questions all in an attempt to avoid having to deal with screaming kids who don't stop screaming for the entire ten minutes the poll takes place.
Monday, August 31, 2009
day thirty one
I have nothing to say, but it's day 31 and the first month of my massive weight loss attempt is over so I thought I would give a brief overview of my exciting progress. I can report now that I did not lose eight pounds this month. I lost four pounds which, after doing some counting on my fingers, I realized is four less than I hoped for, but as my daughter pointed out, at least I didn't gain four pounds.
I did manage to ride every single day this month with the exception of Sundays, so that was twenty eight days of riding at ninety minutes per day which equals a total of many minutes, probably close to 30,000 minutes or something like that. Wait...okay, I just did the math and actually it is 2520 minutes of riding. I was close though. 2520 minutes or 42 hours. Any way you slice it, it was a lot of work with very little results, which makes getting up at 5:30 everyday more enticing than ever.
Seeing as I am not a quitter, except when I am bad at things and then it's okay to quit, I will continue on in my quest to lose my weight. I figure four pounds over the course of the next six months will put me at 132 pounds, a weight which I can handle. I'm okay with that. And six months is nothing. It takes me right up to my daughter's third birthday, which means that by the time she turns three I will have lost most of the weight I gained when I got pregnant with her.
Here's are some highlights of my riding this month.....
I can't think of anything. I just know that I love riding and I'm glad I live in a place that has nice enough weather that allows me to ride every single day of the year. Also, my town is finally putting in a bike path. I know all the details because I am a concerned citizen and when I found out there was going to be a meeting on this topic I did what we all should do...I sent my husband and my kids to that meeting and had them report back to me. So if you live where I live know that some exciting happenings will be coming your way soon, unless the two cantankerous men from Tangerine get their wish, in which case you will never see a bike path here.
I did manage to ride every single day this month with the exception of Sundays, so that was twenty eight days of riding at ninety minutes per day which equals a total of many minutes, probably close to 30,000 minutes or something like that. Wait...okay, I just did the math and actually it is 2520 minutes of riding. I was close though. 2520 minutes or 42 hours. Any way you slice it, it was a lot of work with very little results, which makes getting up at 5:30 everyday more enticing than ever.
Seeing as I am not a quitter, except when I am bad at things and then it's okay to quit, I will continue on in my quest to lose my weight. I figure four pounds over the course of the next six months will put me at 132 pounds, a weight which I can handle. I'm okay with that. And six months is nothing. It takes me right up to my daughter's third birthday, which means that by the time she turns three I will have lost most of the weight I gained when I got pregnant with her.
Here's are some highlights of my riding this month.....
I can't think of anything. I just know that I love riding and I'm glad I live in a place that has nice enough weather that allows me to ride every single day of the year. Also, my town is finally putting in a bike path. I know all the details because I am a concerned citizen and when I found out there was going to be a meeting on this topic I did what we all should do...I sent my husband and my kids to that meeting and had them report back to me. So if you live where I live know that some exciting happenings will be coming your way soon, unless the two cantankerous men from Tangerine get their wish, in which case you will never see a bike path here.
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