All posts for the month September, 2013


Published September 27, 2013 by sarcasmica

Today is my birthday. I’m now officially 37. I like to think of it more as celebrating 35 for the second time. I think this is the birthday where I begin to celebrate 35 every year.

I am so old that i have to REMEMBER turning 35… because i already did it…. TWICE.

I’ve never been a big fan of my birthday, but now that my kids understand it, it’s more fun. My daughter is convinced we are going to Chuck E Cheese tonight for dinner. Apparently we need to work on vocabulary because “Hell No” hasn’t rung a bell for her.

In fact, my husband is taking me out tonight without the kids. I should be looking forward to that, but i kind of want them with me to celebrate… family dinner is tomorrow night, though.

So between all of those shared facts, i now know i’m OLD.

I woke up and my first thought was, “Woohoo! My rules today! Yoga pants and braless ALL DAY!”

when i was in my 20’s and early 30’s, my birthday was an excuse to get all gussied up and feel pretty. Now i just throw on some eyeliner and shadow behind my glasses after donning ‘comfy clothes’ and that cuts it.

Also, my expectations stop at a nice yummy dinner. If i could have any wish granted today it would be the ability to eat anything and not gain weight from it. Food is my guilty pleasure and if i could get a burrito bouquet or a french fry basket, i’d be over the moon.

Maybe I should head back to Weight Watchers … ?


Just When You Think You’re the Crazy One

Published September 24, 2013 by sarcasmica

Here’s how the morning went:

5:40am i continue to regret the highly yelped hole in the wall Mexican place i tried the night before. As I lay in bed recovering from the aftermath, i begin to think of all the bills i’ve procrastinated paying.

and, by the way, thank goodness for instant bill paying straight from a computer and no more writing checks out the exact day you have to send them so they arrive in the nick of time

I debate whether or not I should get up and plan out the morning in my brain. Thirty minutes later I bite the bullet  to get up and just begin the day.

My daughter is awake and whimpering at the window as my mom drives away to work. I speak quietly to her and convince her to lay back down since it’s still dark out.

It works!

I pay all the bills, i get a hot steamy cup of Keurig Mocha with my Mexican Cinnamon Chocolate creamer


and the morning is looking good despite the early hour

I decide to make a nice breakfast for the kids – and m’self – and serve it up piping hot and yummy.

Just to continue the rainbows and butterflies, everyone actually EATS the food! It’s like i’ve woken up in an alternate universe! The kids even have some extra play time before school drop off. My son coaxes his sister in his room and wants to show her Thundercats on his TV. They play well for about twenty minutes. Then reality kicks everyone in the arse.

I hear him yelling at her “Say you’re sorry! Say YOU’RE SOOORRRRYYYY!!!!” and she’s chuckling at him.

I go and break it up and all hell breaks loose. He tries to whip a toy snake at me, which i promptly remove from his white-knuckled grip.

A few minutes later he daringly exits his room. I tell him calmly to go back and finish picking up his cell room.

Amazingly, the glow from the morning success is still fresh in my brain and I haven’t lost my patience yet. I’m still calmly talking to him despite his eyes turning red and his tongue forking.

It’s at the point he decides to sass me back and wisely turns and runs away.

I call him back to me to face me and he begins yelling louder and louder, I take the bait and begin shouting, and the tornado of doom looms and surrounds us.

….. we go through the apology & consequence rigamaroll and finish getting ready for school.

It’s fantastic to send your kid to school fresh off a loud and chaotic time out/lecture episode. The whole way i’m trying to remain calm and send him off reasonably well.

On the short drive home i’m thinking to myself, “Self; I would really love to get to a point in my life where we are not the craziest, loudest, and most embarrassing family on the block.”

Like, seriously. I know there’s a window or sliding door cracked the duration of all the yelling. It’s really no wonder the neighbors do not speak to me anymore. They do not respond to birthday party invites for the kids, either. They look at me and speak to me like they have one foot in their front door and one hand on the phone ready to call CPS.

Or maybe it’s just my imagination.

I’m about at the end of my CPS scenario when i pull into my driveway. I see an older woman walking with an elderly man down the sidewalk and think nothing of it. I push my button to open my daughter’s door as i begin to get out of the van.

The elderly man begins walking towards the van. He’s peeking around the door from ten feet away trying to look in. The woman waves me down, as i’m still in the front seat, and says “Close the door, he’s very agitated today.”

Not words i expected to hear. I shut the door just as the man walks up to her door.

The woman is talking gently to the man telling him in a heavy Eastern European accent, “No, come on, let’s go.”

He puts his face up to the passenger front window and says, “Call the police, please. She is holding me and they have my wife.”


… . … seriously?! This is how the day is really going to go?

I almost looked around for cameras, as i’m simultaneously trying not to panic. When did i get training for this scenario?! Thankfully my daughter was busily playing with a toy in her carseat.

The car is covered in rain from last night. The man takes his hand and wipes away the water on the window so i can see him and he can see me even better. So now he repeats himself and it’s all happening in HD to me. His gnarled aged hands, his thick square brown-rimmed glasses, his big gapped teeth with a desperate and lost hallow expression on his face pressed to my passenger window.

“please. please call the police.”

the woman, trying to appease him, says, “Ok. I call police. I call 911 for you. Come vis me now.”

and just as calmly as he’s pleaded with me, he begins to open the passenger door… because it unlocked when i opened my daughter’s door and i was trying not to be paranoid, trying not to panic, and trying not to do anything to set Grandpa Loon off even more. As i said, as sad as the whole thing was, he was pretty calm.

I just said, “No no no. Shut it.”  The woman gently took his arm and shut the door, to which i promptly locked it. three times.

That’s when my daughter clued into the scenario and began chanting, “No, i don’t want him to come with us, mommy!”

and the caretaker was able to walk him away from my driveway and down the street. Yes. They were walking now in the middle of the road. I watched them go as he tried to shove the woman away from him. I waited until he was far enough away to give me time to get my kid out of her car seat and into the house where we dead bolted the door.


And as i flipped my lock I realized what the universe was showing me. There’s crazy, and then there’s KrAzY. It’s so sad to look into the eyes of desperate desolation. For his own protection, his mind was trying to help him cope with a reality that was obviously not appealing. I hope he really wasn’t being held against his will by an Eastern European Scientific Experimental Senior Home in a residential neighborhood in the Northwest.

I bet they planned their location because of all the hooplah and noise my family creates! No one will hear the machines and screams over my 7 year old in a time out battle with his mom. .. or his sister.. or his dad or grandma or dog or TV!

Date Night with Daddy

Published September 18, 2013 by sarcasmica

Dear Children,

Yes mommy and daddy are going out on a date. WITHOUT you. And yes, the plan is that we will enjoy it! We are going to dinner. A simple plan. As we all know, the simplest plans have the most likelihood of working out. Something grand and expensively planned will only be interrupted by a fever or bodily fluids from one of you.

Mommy needs to go out on a date for some every single one of these following reasons;

1. Sometimes I need a reason to put on clean underwear. While I may preach to you about such things, we all know it’s you that gets nagged at before myself.

2. I need a reason to put on make up. A reason like a dark room where there might be low lighting and/or candle light to soften the bags and wrinkles and age spots and acne and random facial hairs that have begun springing up like weeds along one and all of my chins.

3. I like the alien feeling of wearing clean clothes that might or might not have an elastic waste. Something that drapes or flows or has a sparkle on it that is not glitter from one of your toys or crafts or clothes. Something I pray will still fit my ever-growing POST childbearing body years.

4. Daddy and I need to be reminded sometimes that we liked each other enough to actually make a person… twice!

5. I look forward to sitting down at a restaurant and choosing what I want regardless of spice, amount, finger-food, kid-approved, or french fry attendance. I sometimes revel in choosing what I want without a glance at a kids menu and forget to actually CHOOSE something.

6. I get to eat a meal before cutting into nano pieces and waiting for the luke-warm pall that grows over it

7. Sometimes it’s nice to have a conversation with daddy that doesn’t involve “Which basket of laundry is the clean one?” or “can you at least wash the underwear?” or “Do you think you might be able to get some laundry done today?”  or “where are we on the bills? anything getting turned off i need to know about?”  or “Is this a new recipe you’re trying?” or “is it ok if i just put the dish in the sink and not actually get it INTO the already dirty dishwasher?” or “did i tell you i’m flying out for work tomorrow?”

8. I’m going to eat a meal I didn’t make myself. Something with flavor. Something with pizzazz. Something that did not set off a smoke detector.

9. Mom needs to get her drink on.

10. Grandma offers free babysitting so why wouldn’t we?!

So yes, my little cherubic angelic boogers, daddy and mommy are going out on a date tonight and with any luck we get to worry about giving you a little sister or brother in 9 months!  … before we remind ourselves daddy has been neutered.


Mommy & Daddy

from the GoGurt commercial – smokey eyes gone wrong


Published September 9, 2013 by sarcasmica

My poor son was cursed with an aversion to overly loud, bright, stimulating, uncomfortable situations. So much so he nearly has an anxiety attack when it’s time to buckle down and get ‘er done. This is combined with a need for early intervention for his mouth.

A Molotov cocktail

Each time we go to the orthodontist, it’s a pep talk. A barrage of nervous shaky questions about what they’re going to do, simply ending in a refusal to cooperate. Regardless of the procedure. They could be putting licorice in his mouth, and the fact that he has to lay back in that chair, arms down, defenseless, bright lights shining down, a chair that moves, strange faces near his own sticking unknown objects – some of which look sharp and scary – into his mouth does not matter. He will not do it willingly. At least not after at least five rounds and eight impatient exhalations from whomever is around trying to help.

Today we simply had to get his wires changed.

The boy has four braces. FOUR. No more than that. It’s two wires that needed to be switched out. These wires are held on by small colored rubber bands. Because it’s all small, the asst needed to use ‘the hook’ to take them off. Regardless of the reason, he was not having it.

This is the second thing in three days i’ve watched the people working with him give it all they had. First it was the lady cutting his hair on Saturday.

My kid comes at situations seeming inquisitive. Don’t fall for it! It’s a scam. He’s trying to find the scary thing or unsure thing in the mix that he can agonize over.

The boy has been getting haircuts regularly since 6 months of age. He’s a human Chia Pet. By now i had hoped it would be easy. We’ve just now graduated to letting the stylist use the blow dryer to get all the hairs off when the cut is over.

He’s 7, people. 6.5 years of training and he’s finally able to allow the blow dryer near him… for .5 seconds.

So when he goes in for these types of things, the people helping him are always open at first. They see an inquisitive, bright blue eyed boy who seems very smart and articulate – except for the metal in his mouth making him sound like he’s balancing marbles on his tongue – and they are tickled to be able to answer aaaaaaall his questions.

Then he finds the chink in the armor and begins asking about the one thing over and over again.

The person still hangs in there with him and tries different approaches to answer the same question. With the haircut, it was the buzzer. He knows it’s not loud, but he decided to harp on this subject with her. She took the end off, let him feel it. She showed him all the attachments, she let him feel the difference between the big one and the small one… he had her. She was reeled in. I saw that familiar gleam in her eye where she felt she got through and made a difference.

Then she went that extra mile and offered to set the timer so he’d know when she was done. He kept asking how much longer, so she logically thought this would work.

“Is it loud? When it rings, will i jump? How loud is it?”

And that was her breaking point.

“It’s a bell, boy, doesn’t your mom use a timer at home??”

Yes, but this is not MY timer. I use the microwave timer because it’s a pleasant ‘beep beeeep beeeeeep’ not an obnoxious alarm clock bell.

I just sat back and watched. She was very pleased with how she handled him up ’til this point. Then the impatience got to her. She wasn’t rude, she wasn’t mean, just ‘short’. She didn’t go out of her way out of wanting the challenge of making a difference. She was going out of her way to get him to stop questioning everything she did and to hush up.

I felt a little validation in that moment.

He rattles people when they hit their wall with him. It’s nice to know i’m not crazy. Well… i am crazy, but i’m not alone in the Gage-induced-craziness.

It happened with the orthodontist assistant today. She was patient and soft-spoken. I stayed in the waiting room to begin with to see if it made a difference.

It didn’t.

I heard her quiet voice raise a bit after nearly ten minutes of having him in the chair and getting nothing accomplished. I peeked back to see her look up with a relived sigh and instantly include me in the plan. “Oh look, maybe your mom can come in and help hold your hands down!”


I feel very bad for him, but a part of me wants him to grow out of it. I keep waiting for that to happen, and it just doesn’t. It didn’t help that this was our very early morning after a sleepless night due to his bad dream.

He came and woke me up at 4am to tell me he had a bad dream and needed his light on.
“Fine. Turn it on.”
“Can you cover me up, too?”
“you have to cover yourself up, buddy. you’re 7. Figure it out.”
kicking and yelling
I am not awake or rested enough to deal with this lovingly. Sue me.

I cover him up, turn on the music.

30 minutes later he’s back in my room trying to inch into my bed.
“Back to bed.””Can i watch a movie to get my mind off my dream?”
“No. Go back to sleep.”

More bargaining, more fits. I ended it telling him to have his light on however he wanted, music is on, now go to sleep. “And by the way, my door will be locked, so don’t bother trying to come in.”

I had an odd mixture of relief and expectation upon doing this. I have never locked my door at night and don’t plan to again, but if you give this kid an inch, he will jump, dance, roll and somersault all over you. and you know what? he didn’t even try. He actually went back to sleep. So much so, that when it was time to rouse him at 7 o’clock from a peaceful sleep, i felt a little evil giddiness. “I want to sleeeeeeep, mom!” “OOOh, you want to sleep and someone is waking you up ?!!? What does that feel like, son? I have NO idea.”

And now we get to figure out how we are going to get all the metal OUT of his mouth when he’s done with the expanders in November. They have already asked me to have him tranquilized by the dentist first.
God help us all

Birthday Girl

Published September 9, 2013 by sarcasmica

This is for any of you coming to her party. We get lots of questions about what she might like, just as i ask when going to a party for another kiddo.

Anyway, walking through Target yesterday I had a stroke of genius.. if i do say so myself. At the risk of looking terribly materialistic and presumptuous, i decided to take pics of the things i know she’d really like. Easy peasy! If you got her a card, that’s fantastic, too! If you want to go with something not on the list, totally fantastic also! This is for anyone stuck or feeling especially uninspired. 🙂


Gemma loves the minions. ESP the purple guys! – something about the mean ugly ones entices her i suppose?


Any superhero dress up girlie stuff is always a hit! I just got her the SuperGirl PJs and she wore them to her brother’s orthodontist appt and the grocery store. She hasn’t taken them off yet. It does have a cape attached 🙂 (4T or 5T will work)


Since our Dland trip, and the Peter Pan ride, Gemma is obsessed with Capt Hook. Loves him. She is aware he is a bad guy and does not give a rat’s butt. I fear the teen years!


As i said… it’s a forbidden love, all the more sweet i suppose


They have a variety of princess purses that come with gloves or some other accessory. I think she’d love this.


Yet another superhero finally realized for the girl’s dept.

Again, I hope this doesn’t come off as obnoxious. It’s meant as a helpful tool, and i didn’t know of a better place to post it.

Party on, dudes & dudettes

As an afterthought, here’s what I got her if you want to choose something that goes with it (?)









It’s the Little People Disney Princess Song Palace. I also got the 2 pack of Tiana & Rapunzel.

Has Been

Published September 7, 2013 by sarcasmica

My husband’s work schedule is aging me. My mom graciously agreed to watch the kids so i could get out for a movie tonight. I needed a little sanity break.

As i’m writing this at 9:15, my son is coming out of his room for the third time for nothing. Nonsense stalling.

I need to go back out suddenly. Why did i come home right after the damn movie? I couldn’t stop for an ice cream or Target trip?!

No, because i’m trying to be responsible. (BLECH) and save money. (Double BLECH)

I’m leaving the movie tonight and feeling melancholy. It was a Woody Allen movie, and truthfully, only the second one i’ve ever watched. The first was Midnight in Paris, and i was not impressed.

Desperation to get away from the house apparently drives me into otherwise strange circumstances.

In the theater tonight were hordes of older couples. Couples. Walking away from the theater i felt kind of lonely.

THIS is why i typically only see silly frivolous movies alone. I am fine to laugh alone, but the melancholy stuff just makes me moody and sad while he’s away. No one to talk to during the exit walk.

Ten years ago we would have been just starting our night. (my husband and I were dating waaaaay back then) We would take his Harley to a club and dance and drink and dance until my feet were too sore to get back to the bike. I had friends back then. I had friends i could call on a moment’s notice and just go out and have “fun”. What i believed to be fun then is not the same now. Funny how a decade can drop your expectations as low as Miley’s Twerkin’ ass.

Now “fun” can be anything from playing my own music as loud as I want in a car inhabited by only me, to a solo trip to the grocery store or Target.

We used to leave loud, stinky, hot, dark clubs if they weren’t ‘fun enough’. What is this phrase?! It’s now only used for parks and toys.

Now I have to plan outings if i want company. No spontaneity anymore. Adulthood kinda sucks when it comes to “fun”. I had a terrible thought that aged me most un-gracefully.  That awful phrase popped into my head on the way home; “Youth is wasted on the young”

I think that put me in the ‘mid life’ category.


Should i start stowing away Depends now?! I’m not even 40 yet!

The movie, by the way, was “Blue Jasmine”. I actually liked it. It didn’t have the lull that some of his movies – i’m told – can have. It moved the whole time, and Ms Blanchett did an amazing job, naturally.

So how here i am. Talking to a computer screen. Not reliving the night beside my husband because he is, of course, traveling. I keep telling myself this project is almost done. Almost. One or possibly two more trips and then it’s done.

Hallelujah! Then I get to have something resembling a night life back .. sort of. Watching DVR shows with someone else. Snacking with another person.

Maybe we need to find new hobbies. Something that involves moving around…

nah !! see? i blame the Woody Allen movie for such crazy ideas.

Knuckle Sandwich

Published September 6, 2013 by sarcasmica

Today i get to write about my daughter! She cracks me up constantly and she is such a source of joy. So I punched her in the eye.

Lemme ‘splain

I was trying to get her dressed this morning. She was being a pre-three year old and resisting and playing and being goofy and doing anything BUT what i’m trying to accomplish. I sat down on her toddler bed. I grabbed the shirt i wanted to put on her. She was spinning around. She leaned in to throw a barrette beside me as i reached down to get her night shirt off and WHAM! My knuckle went right to her eyeball. Knuckle to socket.

She waited a second. I realized what happened and tried not to freak out.

“Oh my goodness, i’m so sorry!”

Then she began to cry. Understandably.

I asked to look at her eye and she says, “You punched me in the eye!!”

After seeing she was ok, i tried not to laugh about it. I scooped her up and kissed and hugged her and told her i was sorry. We moved on.

All morning I kept waiting for CPS to jump out from behind a tree and arrest me.

They didn’t.

So tonight, i’m putting her in her jammies and she just says, “Why did you punch me in the eye?”

“It was an accident, honey. I didn’t punch you.”

and she says, “it was a knuckle sammich! YOU want a knuckle sammich?!”

i lost it.

i haven’t laughed that hard in days! my 2 year old is dancing around like mini Mohammad Ali, zapping her hand toward me, frowning her little faux-frown and saying, “You want a knuckle sammich?!”

Best bedtime story ever


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