No I don't wanna talk about it.
No I don't wanna.
Yeah...so what the Red Sox have kicked the Yankees ass for two days in a row in the last series they will play against each other EVER in the old stadium?
Speaking of moving in fast forward, never in a million years would I have thought I would be uttering the following sentence so soon:
"You cannot kiss boys, you cannot have a boyfriend, ANY boyfriend, is that clear??"
Miss C had misbehaved on the bus ride on the way home. By misbehave I mean the usual philandering like: hitting, pinching, unbuckling her seatbelt but now she added something new to shake things up a bit:
Trying to kiss a boy and screaming she wanted a "big" boyfriend.
I had to resist the urge to tell her: “Honey no you don’t, trust mommy on this one”
But instead, I spent the afternoon yelling at a 6 year old girl who cried so intensely about the boyfriend she wanted. It kind of broke your heart a bit. Where did she get these things from? Clearly not from her cold hearted love allergic mother. What was so important about a having a “big” boyfriend??? So I just had to ask:
“Why do you want a “big” boyfriend?”
“Because I want someone to call me. Nobody calls me; a big boyfriend would call me”
Honey, chances are, that either big or small, that isn’t’ going to happen either.
They have X mas lights for sale at Kmart.
And I couldn't find lighter fluid and charcoal for a barbeque this past weekend. The staff at Kmart told us in a very matter-o-factly tone, that they had stored it all away.
What part of tropical island do these people not get?
Maybe the Faith Gene is gone.
Maybe I used it all up.
Fact of the matter is, lately I kind of don't believe in much.
I mean, on an island where people decide that in their wake they should be viewed standing up, where can my Faith go.
Yesterday a lady in the bank politely asked a gentleman how he was doing and he quickly answered:
"My father is dead. He died this week. He was 95".
No, "thank you and you...? Oh by the way my dad died..."
Just flat out tragedy.
It's a wonder some people still believe in Ol' St. Nick.
I've been MIA from church for three weeks, for several reasons, valid or not. Underneath it all, I haven't missed anything.
I was feeling out of place. Doing empty things for no apparent reason.
There are dynamics of God that I don't fully understand yet, and no one, has given me an answer that can somewhat make sense.
I think too much.
That's True's theory.
Right now I'm on a different path.
And as much as I want things to be as they were, I don't think they will.
And this is going to stir up some problems.
Especially with True.
Because frankly, even if there is love between us, which there is, how much can that love make up for the fact that we want totally different things right now and are on totally different pages.
I can't support him on his endeavors, because frankly I care for none.
And I couldn't care less if he cared for mine.
I don't know if I'm going back to church and his Faith, his glorious, undying Faith, is too much for me to bare right now. I just don't get it most of the time.
I look back to a couple of months ago and I don't really know if I was truly happy.
I couldn't recognize myself in the mirror. I had lost all sense of identity.
I had stopped being me and became True's girlfriend.
And as nice as that sounds, I still prefer my first and last name.
So, right now it's all a puzzle, it's all a question mark and there are no answers from anywhere.
I left The Kid this morning at school with her assistant. I looked from behind a column and saw The Kid's frown, fighting with the assistant because she refuses to put her backpack where the other backpack's are. She says they will be stolen.
After a weekend filled with movie going (we went to see Space Chimps, in Spanish...as if weren't bad enough in the original English language), pool dipping and cuddling, it is damn hard putting that kid in the car and leaving her off at school.
So I had just about had it.
The new neighbors aka the new hooligans were driving me mad.
They are up very late during the week, smoking weed and their friends stop by with motorcycles starting all kinds of rawkus.
As if it weren’t enough with the Mariachi loving neighbor who now sells drugs and has befriended the hooligans.
It was 9:30, mariachi lover was playing up a storm, beating on congas, cheering like a Mexican, with his door wide open.
I kindly leaned out of my door.
“Um…you see that window, it’s my daughter’s window, do you mind listening to the music for yourself?? As in real low”.
He looked, shocked, almost appalled. But immediately went inside to lower the music.
Then the hooligans began their matinee.
Last week I quietly called the cops on them and that had simmered them down but last night it looked like an all-nighter.
At 10:30 I had had enough.
I went outside, walked straight up and said:
“You guys don’t work tomorrow, or go to school, well that’s all nice. I actually envy you, but some people on this block do and my kid has school tomorrow so I will appreciate you keep the volume down, real down”.
They agreed to do so and I went back in.
But an hour later they were at it again, laughing, cursing, revving up their bikes…
Aw, hell to the no. Not on my block.
I headed downstairs again, this time not so diplomatic.
“Shut up!! You need to shut up…are you deaf?? Did I not just tell you guys to keep it down???!! There will not be a third warning, I will call the police, so shut up”.
They were stunned, they apologized and headed inside.
I’m tired of this crap, tired of no one on my block doing nothing because they fear these 15 year old punks.
I’m organizing some sort of committee and I’m taking my street back.
Nothing much to report on my side of the tracks besides the fact that I am hooked on the Olympics, finally decided to peg my jeans and where them like Katie Holmes and desperately need more sleep.
How can I manage more sleep into my life when I am already sleeping at 8pm????
I'll probably hire a driver.
Miss C has been doing fab. Screaming and slapping children around before the bell goes off, you know the typical children behavior.
It's hard watching her do this while the 'other' parents stare at you in bewilderment.
"Other" as in the perfect parents with the perfect kids.
Needless to say, I am NOT the most popular parent in the bunch.
That's why when the parents met up today to discuss the extreme heat and the broken down A/C, I was the first one to pitch in $5.00 to get a fan while the quote on the A/C repair is ready.
Anything to fit in a little bit more.
Maybe I should stop wearing my "it's funny how you think I care" shirt to school.
I'll ponder that.
Meanwhile, I've decided to stop job searching for now.
I've decided to try to make the most of my time and wash and clean and cook and enjoy my kid in the afternoons, without all the traffic and all the rush. Eat, bathe and be in bed by 8pm.
Because I am an old fart.
There I said it.
how are things on your side of the monitor?
Maybe Sinatra had it all wrong when he said he had few regrets about doing things "My Way".
Maybe he was a man with lots of guts and very ballsy.
Maybe at night when he was all alone for doing everything his way he drank his night away with a nice bottle of Merlot.
Maybe he just sat and watched the Olympics in Beijing.
Either way...maybe ol' blue eyes had it all wrong.
After a weekend of tears, adjustments, a baby shower for my best friend (Empress),a fish that nearly died (now he's an official Puerto Rican Nemo, a special needs fish with a small fin) and lots of 4/5 letter words that I am NOT going to repeat because I feel sick to my stomach just thinking about them, I put Miss C to bed and sat down to see some of the Olympic games...
After the gymnastics I decided to call it a night. My brain had been engulfed in too much thinking at I needed to put it to rest.
I turned the night light on, and as I tried to find a pair of underwear that would not cut off my circulation, because let's face it, my thighs and ass aren't getting any smaller, Miss C was stirred.
Her big wide eyes open and alert.
"Go back to sleep".
She turned around and shut her eyes.
I turned off the light.
And as I made my way to bed, she called out for me...
Which is odd because she usually calls me "momma".
I lay beside her.
"Yes" I answered, trying to survive the stench of her dragon breath. I love her to death, but the smell of that, is a no go.
"I love you mommy".
She hugged me and 15 seconds later, she was snoring.
And then there were two.
So here's the update for those interested.
My kid had a shitty day.
She cried all day long and longed for her momma to be with her.
They changed her bus driver, to a MAN, a MAN I do not know.
Alone in a bus with a man.
and with his tone of voice and eagerness (insert sarcasm here)
there is no chance in hell.
I picked her up. She was sweaty and teary. She was sitting in her old classroom.
Today she clung onto me for dear life as we stood waiting for the bell.
She wheeled off with a pout.
I hope things go better for all of us.
It's that time of year again: Back to Hell. I mean, err, school.
Here's my list of things I hate about back to school:
2. School material lists: notebooks, crayons, mops, brooms, toilet paper, microwaves...(ok...they haven't officially asked for a microwave, but I can smell it coming.
3. Stupid ludicrous homework assignments, like take a 4 hour drive to interview the mayor of some small town, his wife and Nana.
yeah, that bad.
So anyways, after a hearty breakfast and a goodnight sleep, we hit the hay at 8pm, we made our way to school.
Lucky for us traffic was light and we got there early.
We met the new teachers and headed out to wait outside in the hall for the bell to ring.
After some much mingling in the halls, we realized Miss C's old classmates, specifically her best buddies, were not going to her same classroom. She was stuck in classroom with Bratz-Disney-Princesses loving girls.
Not really her crowd.
After a while of waiting, the inevitable came. Miss C got restless. It was hot, she was standing, she was eager to go to school. Hope that enthusiasm stays until College.
She starts to whine.
8:20 first bell rings.
Her principle comes out, mic in hand, which is bad sign since she is a ham for the stage.
She starts talking, except you can't hear anything because her voice is lost in the open space. It was something about school rules, buses, a meeting, etc.
8:30 second bell rings.
The flags come out, they sing the Anthems.
8:35 The principle decides to break out into a little song and dance routine.
Miss C decides to join her in her own version of the song: "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah I wanna go to the class...Waahh make her shut up".
She is sweaty, crying, her hair is a mess and I can feel sweat rolling down my back.
I wanted to grab Barbara Streisand and beat her to a pulp.
At 8:40 she shut up.
We had been in school since 7:30am.
Miss C dragged her book bag with 9 notebooks and several sanitary products (I hate germs) to her class.
I stood there and watched.
In fear. At 12 pm all the kids are let out to the yard for a full hour of mayhem.
With no direct supervision.
A mom I know volunteered to keep an eye out on Miss C.
I still wasn't so reassured.
Her Phys. Ed teacher yelled out: "Hey this isn't an airport, she's going to a classroom, not boarding a plane".
Everyone in that school outta be on Leno.
I left praying that all will turn out fine.
So that's it.
I guess I'm gonna turn into one of those moms, the ones that spend their day on the school premises talking about gossip...instead I'll talk about baseball.