Murphy's Law & I hate Murphy

Wrestlemania at the Perrys

I hate Murphy, but he loves us... that Murphy & his bloody law.

The way Murphy's Law pertains to us:

1. Today, the first day Flynn had take a nap in several days, Gabe doesn't ... for the first time in probably a month.

2. The other day, Flynn slept past 7, for the first time in months. Gabe however, was up at 6:30.

3. Flynn was supposed to give preschool a "trial run" Tues. She was sick.

4. We pay for dancing school, whether or not they attend. The 2 sick spells Flynn's had have both fallen on a Monday.

5. After Jeff paying approx $400 in contributions to shower gifts (he added it up) to showers for people at work & me paying a smaller amount than that, we ended up giving birth while neither of us had full time jobs. Thus, being jipped out of work showers (counter-murphy= having good family who threw showers for us).

6. Jeff was convinced to lease with a mutual friend as the leasor, who said to him upon leasing, "Just drive it, don't worry about mileage, etc.". When the contract was up & the miles were exceeded, the friend was no longer there. Hence us purchasing the said car, for the same amount we could've bought it for 5 years prior. Leasing = paying for said car TWICE.

7. My mom might be able to retire in 2 years. Dang you Murphy, Flynn will be in kindergarten by then & I won't need her as a babysitter.

8. Flynn has a modeling offer, to make $300 in a couple of hours. The gig, while we were on vacay.

You might say that's how the cookie crumbles. I tell you that cookies are no good for you.

Counter Murphy = God's blessings...There are more than 8 of them. *wink*

Day in the Life of a Crazed Mother

Remember the fun we had last January, picking out new books with our giftcards?
Well, Gabe's giftcard for books has been burning a hole in my wallet since he got it 2 months ago, also a gift from Nana.
I've been telling myself since then, the next time we're at Gravois Bluffs, we have got to plan a visit at Barnes & Noble to spend Gabe's giftcard.
So, today, we found ourselves across the street at the Little Gym, taking advantage of free bring a friend day (thanks to Alex, we were his guests).
So, we made it a point to head on over & bask in the book goodness.
Along with the fun it is, it is also a challenge to keep track of two very energetic kids, who love books as much as their momma....who see a book at the other end of the large children's area & who waste no time running to that book to see what it holds inside.
B & N also has an adorable children's stage, where the storytime takes place. Flynn had already made plans to read Gabe & I a book from there. And Gabe had big plans to spend the majority of his time at the train table (once again, it doesn't matter that we already have one at home).
To & fro they'd run. Pulling books off the shelves at warp speed. Leaving them wherever, only for me to run behind & try to quickly find where it came from, return it to its spot, & move onto the next castaway.
I may have been sweating at this point.
So, we settle on one or two books, or five. And after diligence & much deliberation, we settle on those few (five) & head to the check out.
Why in the world are there the most delectable and irresistable things at check out lines. Like delicate & very breakable pop up gift card holders. And Godiva chocolates wrapped like royal gifts? Why, oh why?
And why, must you spend five minutes asking me if I'd like to buy a gift for an orphan? And another 10 minutes explaining your reward club? And how if I join today, I'll save an extra $2 (forget the fact that I'd be spending $25 to join the hurting club). Must you continue to push the rewards club while I'm on the other side of the spinning display, removing stationery sets from my son's two year old grip; stationery sets that cost more than my outfit?
And while my credit card lays atop my open wallet, at your register, where you spend vast amounts of time talking about how I'll save 40% off of novels if I join this club... should I share with you that for the last 3.98 years, I've only had time to read an article in a parenting magazine, or a scripture here & there. And then, only if I'm able to lock the bathroom door.

When I finally convinced the employee that even if I had $25 to spare, I wouldn't have another second to spend there at the checkout, less my children knock over the Christmas display.

I give her a coupon, & she unhappily looks at it, tells me it might be too late to use it. I didn't want to tell her that while she was schpealing on & on about the reward's club, she could've been entering the coupon. I think she saw "that look" in my eye & made it work.

Then she gave me my total.

15.83.

I was pleased. Ahh, I thought, that's not much over the $10 gift card.

At that point I slid it across the counter to her.

And she told me,

"Oh dear - that's a gift card for Borders."

Pukeville

Manna wasn't all Flynn caught this weekend...

ugh.

I wonder if a mom were to calculate how many times she'd been vomited on, by say the age of 45...I just wonder how many times that would be.

Last week, Gabe had this virus. This week, it's little Flynn.

And these poor kids, I am the one that needs to lose 5 lbs - not them.

Could Have Something To Do With The Binky

Yawn.

We haven't had a good night's sleep in at least three days.
Besides monitoring poor little asthmatic Flynn, who has reacted to the beautiful Fall presence like any fall-allergic person does, we have dealt with Gabe waking in the wee hours and having a crying party.
I'm tired.
And I know Jeff is tired too.
You see, he's the sweet one who will get up & try to get Gabe back to sleep, while I'm the one who figures that he'll cry himself to sleep.

You go through all these questions like,

"Is he cold?"

"Did he have a bad dream?"

"Does he need us?"

"Is he not feeling good?"

"Maybe his tummy hurts."

But the truth is,
it probably has something to do with this...

Oh Binky, we miss you. You made sleeping so much easier.

For everyone.

A Little Reflection

Now this part is strange & kinda funny too, as it can show you the evolution of my many thoughts. Below in red, find what I had planned to blog, then in black, find my reflection:

"I have high expectations for myself. I believe that I extend that to others, which is a huge mistake & a major stressor.
But I'm learning, even at 28 (okay, 33), I'm learning.
Here are some things I've learned lately:
There are some times when you shouldn't stick your neck out. There's something to be said about not raising your hand in class, not signing up to volunteer, not speaking out. Albeit, all of those things aren't typical Amy-style, laying low has its benefits.
Now I'm not suggesting, Looking Out For Number 1, or "Numero Uno", but maybe there's a happy medium? I know I was raised to serve, hard work & helping others is in my nature, but perhaps I need a period of just doing for me. Doing what is asked of me?, sure. But thinking of things I can do for other people instead of for me & my family?, no."
Wow. Talk about Anti-Christ!
Gees Amy, do you think Jesus helped other people for a thank you? For a pat on the back. For a positive result of some kind?
Nope.
Matter of fact, He got killed for it.
Perhaps it's a maturation of thought... but I have to reach the point where I serve, I give, I do selflessly for other people, then, that's it. The process doesn't extend to what the recipient does or says. I'm sure Jesus would've loved a thank you note when he healed the blind man, but that's not why he did it. And I have my doubts that he went & blogged about it.
In the bible, it's pretty plain about this topic:
Colossians 3:23:
Work at everything you do with all your heart. Work as if you were working for the Lord, not for human masters.
I guess there should be no misunderstanding there... and if you really do as it says, there should be NO disappointments, as the pay is great & the retirement is unbelievable!
I always have lots to learn.

Helpful Hints

Never put an open, extra large box (or any size for that matter) of baking soda on a high shelf in your cabinet.

And also, it's really hard to clean off cabinets, burners, floors, and people.

Shave & a Haircut...

Get Lost.

I was not completely satisfied with the hairdresser I'd been going to for the last couple of years. So, I started looking at some local friends' hairdos, and asking who they saw. So, a girl in my MOPS group has great hair, lives here in town, & I figured she probably wasn't the unreasonable type to spend too much money.
So, I got the salon name, the hairdresser's name, and called asap to make an appointment.
Since I don't get to get pampered in that manner, once every 4-6 months, I always plan it around a date or wedding or some other occasion where I'd like to look decent.
So, I scheduled it before E's brother's wedding & started counting the days to having straight hair for a night.

Two months later, when I arrange to leave the kids & go get 'perty', I drive up to the salon to see it dark inside & a note on the door. My heart sank. The shop had been closed.
Do I listen to reason?....do I drive away & accept that perhaps it was best for me?

No. I get out of my car to read the paper, and I see that "Barb" (name NOT changed) is now at Infinity, which was described to be a block away.

When I pulled into the parking lot, and saw it sitting RIGHT NEXT to a tattoo parlor, I should've just kept going. But I was desperate. I needed some glam. So I parked & went inside. Even despite my detour, I was still exactly on time. So I walked in, explained that I actually had an appointment at the "closed" place, and could Barb fit me in?

Miraculously, Barb had kept my appointment. But didn't emerge from the perm she was doing, until 5:20. My hatred for tardiness just makes me a better teacher, so I don't excuse it. Especially when I am a patron.

So she finally brings me back. I had two pictures.... not a lot shorter than my current hairstyle, but more layers, as I was hoping to have the option of fixing my hair like Farah Fawcett (I know, I know). But TWO PICTURES. So how hard could it be? Really, it just required of her, that she cut more layers, then fix it right.

Some background on her. She looked to be in her 60s. She looked good for her age. And looked like she worked out, ate well. But still, lady, you're in your 60s. And if my mom ever dresses like this, I will barf. And the whole time I talked to her, and showed her things about my hair, she only looked at her OWN reflection. It was bizarre. And it was love. (her love for herself).

So, she winds me through the smokey smelling "salon" to a couple of sinks in the back cozies up RIGHT NEXT to a nail station. PS She never put a cape on my to wash my hair. And no towel under my neck, etc. She spent the whole time she was shampooing, chatting with the nail tech. She wasn't even looking at me, and was spraying the side of my face. And, at one point she said, "Oops, that was the third time I shampooed you." So clearly, I was not the object of her focus.

Next (& after seeing how ditzy she was I should've retracted my appointment for the wax), she waxes my brows (which later showed to be COMPLETELY UNEVEN). Then led me back to her station for the haircut (by this time it was 6, remember, my appointment was 5). And as soon as she start combing out my hair, her next appointment came in. She acknowledged them, just as she had acknowledged EVERY SINGLE person who walked through the door. She even turned her direction away from me (when I was mid-sentence) to talk to a person who came in.

Next, she begins scissorhands....she cuts...and cuts...and even though I told her less than 1/2" (I somehow have decently healthy hair), I see strands of 3-4" falling into the floor. I told her that altho I wanted to be glam for the day, the next 90 days I'd be wearing a ponytail, so please make sure that the shortest layer will stay back in a ponytail (yet today, 2.5 wks later, I have a strand tucked behind my ear).

Then, she's done cutting & gets out a blow dryer. She's talking to other people, looking at herself, and half hazardly blowing & using her FINGERS to pull on my hair...when I reminded her that I'd need the hair to be smooth for the style. I told her that I use a large paddle brush & a chi iron to smooth my hair. She said, "Using your fingers is just as good." But I don't need my cosmo cert to know that makes separeted & curly hair.

So, after she'd pulled out 1/2 my hair w/ her fingers, and greeted everyone who entered, she looked at my reflection & said, "So, what do you think?" I couldn't believe it. It was frizzy & she hadn't even tried to fix it. And the whole back was still wet (which meant spiral curls when it would dry, on its own).

I said, "I'm sure I'll like it once it's been fixed."

So then she takes out a curling iron & he ho hems around about hating that particular iron. And it starts to stink, she comments on the smell, then takes a section of my hair & "attempts" to curl it. She acted like she was either paralyzed, or had never used an iron before. It was awful. Then she leaned over & peered at the picture & made a comment at how it looked like my hair.
Remember the Friends episode where Monica's hair is frizzy?...well, imagine that toned down a bit, with a curling iron curl on the side.

It looked STUPID.

And I could see it on her face. She knew the next appointment was getting impatient (because by this time it was 6:30), and that she'd have to wrap it up with me EVEN THOUGH SHE WASN'T EVEN CLOSE TO GETTING MY HAIR TO LOOK LIKE THE PHOTOS.

So she says, "Well, I'd fix it for you, but then I'd have to charge you for a hairdo.... and that's a lot."

I just wanted out of there. Otherwise, I would've argued with her that I wanted one, and that I hated my hair, etc.

When I got home, I realized that she'd charged me for a blow dry (an extra $3), even though my hair was sopping wet in the back.

Lessons learned: Don't get your hair cut next to a tattoo parlor. If you show up for your appointment, and the place is closed, don't persue it, Just accept God's advice & go home.

Crabbing, crabbing...

Ugh...
Do you ever take time out of your busy schedule to do something for someone else... a stranger, whom you owe NOTHING to....
then, you don't even get a simple thank you?

The phone rang. I was pulling Flynn's shirt over her head... I saw it was Progressive. I KNOW we don't use them, so I figured it was the wrong number.
"Tom" (names NOT changed as to NOT protect the guilty) left a very detailed message for ADAM Perry. Apparently ADAM was in an accident with his 2003 Escort. And Tom was needing to speak w/ ADAM.
Well, ADAM doesn't live here.
I've never heard of ADAM.

TOM needed ADAM to return his call promptly. Which was NOT going to happen, as ADAM doesn't live here & will not be receiving the message left.

Now I'm busy... too busy in fact to be sitting here leaving this blog entry, esp when it's a sunny 58 outside & my kids to need burn off energy running & dropping handfuls of sand in their hair.
BUT, I'm one of those conscientious people, responsible to a fault.... and if I didn't call TOM back, it would be eating away at me that ADAM wouldn't be returning TOM's call & what about the other driver??

So, I call Progressive, at the number left, and who should I reach but TOM.

I explain to TOM that he left a message here & it was for ADAM & ADAM doesn't live here.
"Adam Perry?"
"Right, this IS the Perry residence, but there is no ADAM here."
"Hmm, that's very strange."
"Yes, and I've never met nor heard of an Adam."
"That's REALLY odd."
Me, starting to feel a little under interrogation, started to feel a little guilty (for what, I'm not sure).

"Well, when I pulled his name up in the system, your number & address came up...2024 *****?"
"Yes, that's our address... perhaps someone looked up Perry & attached our info to Adam Perry's name?"
"Do you have Progressive insurance?"
Me, thinking, 'if you even try to sell me insurance, I'm going to come up there & strangle you with your cheap tie.'
"No, I don't have Progressive insurance."
"Well, okay."
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLong silence.
Me, wondering, 'is he NOT going to thank me????'
"Well, I thought I should call you since the message sounded important."
"Thanks."
"MmHm."
click.

I guess I should've just saved some time & let TOM spend the rest of the week wondering why ADAM didn't return his call.

I'll end this blog with the world's shortest poem, taught to me by my uncle, entitled ANTS:

ANTS

Adam Had'em

Letter to the Groundhog

Dear Groundhog,
You are a liar.
I look out my window, there are snowflakes falling down!
Early spring. No shadow. Baahh!
Forget the sunny days of us frolicking through the grassy meadows.
I'll do nothing but kick you in your hairy larynx.
Come February 2nd next year, I won't be listening to your lies.
You're nothing but a fat, over-grown & over-glorified rodent.
Good Riddance to you.

Digging for Gold

Between the city & home, just on 55 actually, we saw THREE people digging for gold.
I think it's a Shel Silverstein poem that talks about sticking your finger up your nose for fear your finger might not make it out?
These people had not read that.
This one lady, in a green pontiac, was even steering with her KNEE because she was using BOTH hands to do the job. She used on finger on one nostril. Then switched hands for the other nostril (I guess for agility's sake). Then, had to pick out from under one nail with the other nail. That's when she relied on other limb's for driving.
That's when I starting gagging & almost puked up the whole row of thin mints I had just eaten.

Reasons I Should Not Go to Walmart

I have a hard time even capitalizing walmart....
I hate it that much.
My standing joke at parties, is that I'd rather get a pap smear than shop at walmart.
After my a.m. visit today, there are other examinations I'd add to the list.

Herego reasons I'd rather be anywhere else:

• it makes me strongly dislike others in the human race
• it makes me make ugly faces & be mean
• it makes me throw things & talk sarcastically to people
• it makes me say obvious things, outloud, even tho I'm alone, like, 'why are you stopping in the middle of an aisle, for no reason?' OR 'whose cart is this?'
• I want to trip or push down people

People, I don't mind moving over.... sliding my cart, stopping for you, waiting for you to decide IN THE MIDDLE OF AN AISLE if you want elbow, spiral, or shell shaped pasta.... just please, acknowledge that I did so...and Maybe, just MAYBE, say thanks or excuse me?

Since adjusting my blood pressure meds, I'm a new woman. I'm not tired all the time & dizzy & I actually hop out of bed in the am & go! So, at 10 'til 6 this morning, that's what I did. If I *have* to go to walfart, I do it at the crack of dawn. Becuz, if I have to be in that armpit of a place, I want it to be when most of the people I have a hard time being around, are sleeping it off.

I needed to buy fabric for church. So, I went to the fabric dept. No one was there. I was a buzzer to ring w/ a note, "Ring Bell for Service." Wow, how accomodating I thought! So I rang...and rang... and rang...

no one.

for miles.

So, I went to the auto dept, just adjacent to the fabric dept. Where I saw a man older than dirt. And I said, "Is anyone working in fabric?"

"huh?"

"Can you page someone to assist me in the fabric dep't?"

Apparently, that wasn't on his to-do list, and that bothered him. Tremendously. So he very hatefully & very Jeff Foxworthyly paged, "A customer needs help in fabric."

So I went back to my 'post' to wait for my help.

That never came.

Ever.

So, I strolled over to Layaway. Lights on. No one home.

So, I strolled back to my 'post.' Again. To wait. Again. No one.

So, I walked around like a moreon...aimlessly, looking for someone who worked there. Or who was working I should say.

Again. No one.

So, I heard some conversation coming from a hall by layaway. So, like a private investigator, I parked outside of the doorway & as soon as I saw a blue vest, I jumped all over them like I do when I buy bubblegum ice cream (see previous post). They kinda laughed & said, "I doubt anyone is scheduled in fabric 'til 7."

I looked at my watch, it said 7. So I muttered something hateful about 'how it would be nice if there was a little sign that said that....as most people assume that since the STORE IS OPEN 24 HOURS, THAT IT'S ACTUALLY OPEN' through my superglued glasses. Tightened my ponytail & begrudgingly wheeled my loaded cart back to fabric.

I rang the bell again. Just for the heck of it.

Here came the 5th golden girl. Her trademark would be the penciled in eyebrows. She was sweet tho & it wasn't her fault that no one bothered to tell me that she would be my white knight - not scheduled 'til 7. So she helped me. And I smiled & talked about my kids, and acted like there wasn't 45 mins previously wasted, trying to find help...

That I won't get back.