**OK, so this is a repost… I doubt anyone will remember it because it was WAAAAY back when… so read it and pretend it’s new.**

I remember 6th grade like it was yesterday.  Sitting in science class watching The Miracle of Life, a very UNSEXY rendition of baby making, thinking there is no way in HELL I am ever popping a kid out of THERE.  I am sure that was the whole point of making us watch the 2 1/2 hour flick… of course our parents had to sign a slip saying it was ok, and the girls watched it in one room and the boys in another.  ANYway, I held pretty tight to this no kid thing all through highschool. 

To understand more about making us watch this film, you need to understand a little more about the city in which I resided.  I think it was on the high side of the states numbers for teen pregnancy.  There were more than 10 girls in my graduating class (maybe almost 100) that had or were expecting kids.  One girl was on number three when we walked off the stage with diploma in hand… so the flick didn’t deter everyone, and it sure didn’t deter the rest of us from having sex.

I actually started thinking about it after graduation, but only after witnessing the birth of my best friends daughter… which she conveniently named after me… poor girl.  After that moment, I started to obsess.  I know.. that is so unlike me (bleah).  I was going to have a kid someday, not anytime in the near future.  I still didn’t have the other half of my baby’s gene pool decided at that time, so I wasn’t in a real rush or anything. There was a plan too.  I wanted to be married… maybe for a year then a kid.  Like my mom, I figured I turned out ok (who am I kidding), so why mess up a good thing.  I know better than anyone else, life doesn’t always go according to plan.

So, anyway, I meet this guy… a real weirdo, just the way I like ‘em. He’s 6′4″ 230 lb … long dark hair with the bluest eyes I have ever seen.  Never wore pants, always these weird homemade shorts with cartoon characters on them…. a rainbow of converse all-stars and doc martins…  Nose pierced - neck pierced… awesome drummer.  I was weird too, don’t get me wrong here.  I was not the normal, law-abiding citizen I am today.  OK, maybe I am not normal… but I am law-abiding.  Thus began the second longest relationship of my life… Let’s call this guy Ricardo, just for fun, and it sounds kind of foreign, exotic.

Ricardo didn’t want kids, and I told him that I wasn’t planning on pursuing a long drawn out relationship with someone who didn’t share the same goals in life…. so I don’t know why we stuck it out so long.  So to make a long weird story as short as I can … when we finally started talking about having kids, we were able to come up with a set of “ideas” (if you will) on how to raise our child.  I want to share these with you because I feel that they might be of use when or if you decide to have children of your own:

1.  We were not going to let our child’s feet ever touch the ground. He would be carried whenever possible, and led to believe that it would be unholy for his feet to touch anything other than the finest cloth or flower petals. 

2.  Ok this one is really bad.  We were going to tell him over and over that he was the new messiah and leader of all people.

3.  The child shall be homeschooled, because you don’t learn anything in public school other than how to have (really bad) sex and do drugs.

4.  He shall learn many foreign languages and be well cultured in the arts.

5.  We would try a new form of discipline. This is hard to explain, but it entails when he does something wrong to punish the parent.. ie “If you do that again.. I am going to beat your mother”.  Instilling a great amount of guilt for his actions.

I know there are more, but I really can’t remember, it’s been a long time.   I know you are all curious…. did they have a kid together? 

HA!  Wouldn’t you like to know!  I am not telling, SUKKA!  I’ll leave that to the imagination, or those who know the WHOLE story.

ANYway, use those child rearing ideas if you like… or feel free to add to or embellish if you will.  Let me know how your kids turn out… I am curious too.

~2

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Growing up, the majority of my friends were male.  My best friend was a guy up until my senior year, when Brenda hit the ranking of full time best friend.  She was close enough to a guy… she could definitely hold her own in a belching contest… and fuckin’ cussed like a sailor (last time I saw her she still had her old potty mouth.. hehe.. Love you Bren). ANYway… I think I can safely say I know LOTS about the male brain.

I have always been the friend… rarely the girlfriend… that was just weird.  On multiple occasions me and my “brothers” would load up my trunk with boards and head off to somewhere exciting.  I drove… and took the pictures, delivered the moral support and offered advice when I could.  When it came to their “girlfriends,” I can always shake my head in disgust.

Guys in general go for one type of girl… you know the one, and it’s usually the one who breaks their hearts later on.  But it is strange how this girl can some how magically intoxicate this boy… and somehow no matter what she does to him… he will always forgive her and take her back… she knows he will… she is absolutely sure she is a “goddess” and in his eyes… yeah she is.

I won’t lie… some of my friends girls were the biggest bitches I have ever met… and I was forced to hang out with them on occasion.  I can get along with anyone… but ask me if I liked it.  Just smile and nod, Tomara, pretend that you care about her clothes, makeup, hair… pretend that that outfit is “the bomb”… bleah.

My mother has always said that you are only as pretty as you act.. and it’s funny because if these girls looked anything like they acted… their bodies would be covered with oozing pus-filled boils.

ANYway… the point of all of this nonsense:

Yesterday after I got off work, I had to pick my son up from the after school program.  On the way back to our apartment he started on about the kids in school and what he did during the day, etc.  He went on about this girl, Morgan, in his class.  He has talked about her before, saying she is mean to him.  I had explained, previously, that that just meant that she liked him, and he would usually get upset and just walk away. 

SO, anyway the bad news… Morgan had to sit close to him in reading groups before.. but now… she sits right next to him.

“Well, is she pretty?” I asked.

He was starting to blow me off, “She thinks she is a princess, and she is mean to me…”

“Is she pretty?” I am persistent..

“She doesn’t act pretty… so no she’s not.” I couldn’t help but smile.  It tickled me that I have instilled that in him… already. 

For a moment I felt like I had accomplished this HUGE thing… He didn’t like her because she was ugly to other people… and him… because she thinks she is better than everyone else… heh…

Right now he doesn’t like her, but in a couple of years, when those hormones kick in… he’ll be carrying her books to class and mixing her chocolate milk… boys - Will they EVER learn?

~2

For some weird reason this saying just popped in my head - my deceased ex-step grandmother use to say, “She thinks she’s hot shit on a golden platter… and really she’s just a cold turd on a paper plate”
hahahahaha… that kills me

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There is a girl I know who was curled up on her bathroom floor less than an hour ago wishing she were strong enough to take her own life.  Hoping she could find the strength to slit her wrists and bleed out the sickness. 

She told me she was confused and too weak to carry out the deed.  She was afraid of what might happen to her beautiful children. Imagining them growing up knowing that their mother didn’t want to be a part of their lives. Mother and father; sister and brothers; nieces; nephews; maybe a cousin; a friend; or just a stranger or menial passerby… all affected in some way… could this very well be the end of the world?

Mind racing, heart torn…. confused…. she lay there clenching her head; face wrenched.  Tomorrow when all is forgotten the swollen aftermath of a face will remind her of her torment. 

She told me she wished she could do it… she whispered how easy it would be.  The cold blade slicing through her flesh as if it were butter.  She mumbled of release, and with each breath the stench of a rotting reality.  What could pain her so… to make her want to take this precious gift?  How could she take away that best friend, loving sister, daunting daughter, wife, and mother?  How could she be so selfish… one moment of relief, yet a lifetime of burden for those who knew and/or loved her.

Maybe her confusion clouded what was really important in her life… maybe she thought she knew what she wanted, but time changed her mind or she was too afraid to go after it. Maybe… just maybe, she was waiting for someone to just sweep her away and tell her that everything will be alright… a personal savior.  Maybe she was waiting for you… or maybe… me.  To get her head out of the clouds and give her a swift kick in the ass… to tell her to quit being so DAMN selfish and to GROW the fuck UP.

Don’t you dare pity her… selfish bitch.

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I just got home… barely in the door and all I can think about is blogging.  It’s a new year and man am I working on being a new girl.

I want to explain some things to you… I get email all the time telling me I am “hot”, etc.  I have to laugh cause I know that I am not… and all my “real” friends know this to be true.  I always say pictures lie, but somehow no one seems to believe me.  Let me explain.

I am a big girl… I have never been thin, and I probably never will be.  This is perfectly ok with me.  My mother and my sister are smaller than me, but I can happily flaunt the fact that I have boobs.  Sadly, if I were the same size as they… I would be without the boobies too.  I have never been happy with my weight, but since the move to Phoenix, I can safely say I have put on atleast 10 pounds if not 15.  I know that doesn’t sound like much, but for a girl that was heavier to begin with… this is more than I wish to carry.

I can still deceive the eye… for a girl can give this as the first impression

and still look like this.

(FYI this is not a personal pic :-)… I found it online)

I want to love my body no matter the size, and inturn I think you should love yours too… you are a work of art, and no magazine, television show, or movie should set the standard for comparison. 

Love you for you

SO.. new year… new girl.. I am ditching the extra pounds, and am going to try to live a healthier lifestyle.  I have also ditched the meds… which some of you might know I take to control anxiety (this can also pack on the pounds).  I have ditched the doctor that writes me the scipts for these drugs… which I have to say I have never met (his nurse forks over the notes and happily takes my money). This can have some ill effects… I have been without for almost a week, and I can feel the old me clearing the fog.  Hopfully this will mean I will be writing more, and the weirdo will rear its ugly head once again. I will try not to freak out on you.

Well… new me.. I start a new job in about a week.  I have chopped off my locks to flaunt a new do… I brought back some of the old blonde but made sure the red is still mingling in the bunch… pictures coming soon.

New job, new hair… new column for a local magazine… a website in the works…. look for 2mara.com in the next few weeks. What’s left, but… WORLD DOMINATION.

LOOK OUT…

Make any New Year’s Resolutions you care to share with me?
~2

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I came across this little write this morning, and I remember posting it when I had a whole 2 readers… I thought I would repost and see what you think… cause I am a weirdo, and I got a kick out of this one.

mmmmwah
~2

I Eat Superheros for Breakfast  

Man, today has just been one of those really shitty days.  The weather is messed up and… it’s just Oklahoma here.  It really sucks.  So, I’ve been dragging ass thinking about taking up a new hobby.  I’ve put a lot of thought into this.  It’s not like I haven’t anything else to do.  There are multiple piles of dishes cluttering up my kitchen, baskets of clean laundry ready to put away, baskets of dirty laundry needing to be washed, laundry in the dryer, and week old laundry in the wash… starting to stink up the place.  OK, OK I am not the model housekeeper.  I hate doing the laundry.  I hate doing dishes.  I hate cleaning the bathroom.  My ultimate plan has completely backfired on me… I was going to grow up and be independently wealthy.  Damn Disney for not making my happily ever after… shitsticks!  I do the stuff… it does start to bother me, but I still HATE it. You sure wouldn’t think I was OCD.

ANYway, a hobby.  I’ve done about everything.  This time I want something exciting and different.  I started thinking about this today as I was patiently waiting in the dentist office for my novacaine to deaden half of my face. I’ve got it.  I am going to be a Super Hero… wait more fun –  a SUPER VILLIAN! 

No one would ever suspect it.  I could sneak out of the house at night and wreck havoc around the neighborhood.  I’m not into anything really bad… I might steal a few newspapers or something, or mess with the little flags on people’s mailboxes.  oOoO that would really bother them.  Maybe draw on their sidewalks with colored chalk…. mmmwahahahaha.  Absolute evil.  Yeah I’m bad.  You know it.

The best part is that I HAVE TO HAVE a supersuit.  All good super villiams have a suit… and I shouldn’t be an exception.  I haven’t gotten the whole thing figured out yet… but I think spandex is out.  Nothing too formfitting… I mean, I am looking for comfort here as I’m out galavanting through the neighborhood.  Nothing that is going to swish or swoosh while I’m trapsing about either… so that outs corduroy or those annoying wind suits.  I want something that is flattering… maybe make me look thinner with bigger boobs… yes yes.  No refective coloring, because we have a bit of traffic in the late hours, and I wouldn’t want them to think I was an out-of-season trick-or-treator or one of those insane power walkers.  No cape that’s too cliche.  I’m not impartial to a hat though.  Any designers out there up for this challenge?  email me: tomaraa@gmail.com

A good name is also a must… I’m thinking something like Midnight Madness.  Because it’s dark.  Midnight is kind of late for me though… the baby likes to wake up around then and again around 5ish… up for good at 6:30.  I do, however, like to shop… and we all know the sales you find at midnight madness.  Or maybe the Evening Avenger.  I really don’t like that one because it’s sounds like I’m pissed or something… out for revenge.  The Naughty Neighbor… wait I think that’s porn… well crap.  Maybe it will come to me later. ANYway, I’ve gotten kind of lazy in my old age, it’s going to be weeks before I feel like wandering the neighborhood under the cloak of darkness to wreck mayhem upon this neighborhood’s loyal citizens.

I’ll keep you posted.

~2

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I wasn’t always the fine outstanding citizen I am today.  My past is riddled with questionable discrepancies… and I won’t go into most of those, but you can use your imagination.

I graduated high school in 1994 and was enrolled at a nice university about 4 hours from home where I was majoring in Avionics… doesn’t sound like me does it?  I also had a head full of Burgandy hair and my nose was pierced (I did it myself with a safety pin… weirdo, huh?)  I actually had several scholarships from the vocational school I attended in Highschool… Electronics/computer repair.  So I was well on my way to a proper education and a career, but of course I was going to fuck it up.  I called and dropped the day before class started because of some boy…  I never saw him again… well years later, but that doesn’t really count

SO… I moved to the city (Oklahoma City) to live with my Uncle and my cousin.  That was much fun.  We went out a lot… saw many great bands… even met a few of our favorites.  I had the time of my life.  I had a job I absolutely loved with the super shittiest of hours that really didn’t seem to bother me (5 to 5:30 - 6 days a week).  If we went out and it was late… I would just pull an all nighter and bulk up on the coffee when I got to work.

Next job wasn’t as fun… it required hours of phone work and tons of bullshit… imagine that.  I decided I was lacking something in life and decided to attend broadcasting school.  Music was my life and I thought surrounding myself with it would make me truely happy.  It was choose your own hours as long as you were there X amount of hours per week.  Awesome.

SO you know where this is going right, I do something dumb, and embarass the shit out of myself right?  Well you know it.

At school you work in blocks, and everyone’s schedule is different.  I might work 4 hours on-air and 2 hours writing copy one day… there was a 2 hour block of vocal coaching and you had production, etc.  Each week you had assignments to do and the end of the week you met with an instructor one on one and he/she would listen to your tapes and crtique them and grade you. 

I loved production so I would write my commercial copy and produce it right away, and I always had extra time afterwards, so I would bring extra things I wanted to work on… making my own mixes etc…

There were set “on-air” rooms and set production rooms.  The production rooms had more tools to use… usually a reel-to-reel along with the other standard stuff…

ANYway… I get to school and check the schedule and find my room to work on some personal stuff.  I had all my weekly assignments done, so I was going to work on some weird funky stuff.

I had several special effects cds I was usuing and mainly I was utilitizing the moans.  “oooohhhhs”  “aaaaaaahhhhhs” ‘mmmmph mmmmph” some screams too… and I was blending them… was going to lay down some music tracks after I got the desired moaning all under control.

I am all into it too… headphones on, sound up, stopping starting, looping, etc.. then

knock knock knock

I remove my phones and look out the window and it’s my instructor looking really pissed… I opened the door and she is like, “What the HELL are you doing?” and I explain that I am working on my production for the week… and she is like…. you are “on-air”… I am like… WHAT?  I am suppose to be in production and someone scheduled me in the wrong room…

SO I am a bit red faced… I gather my porn and head to another room… walking past the lobby… all my other friends are in there just hanging out and visiting, etc.  They shoot a glance over to me and bust out laughing… a few even clap. yeah yeah yeah… thanks

And you thought I was lying about embarassing stuff following me around.  I swear like a black cloud constantly overhead… bleah

~2

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I have been in a bit of a funk lately… so uninspired.  Anyone who knows me, knows that writing is my passion, yet I have been unable to think of anything worthwhile to write.  Sure I wrote of my death, and I was pleasantly surprised that I didn’t lose a single reader.  I am guessing that they were all out of town over the weekend, and will drop my ass first thing this morning.

SO… uninspired, I turned to my trusty friend, my bathtub… up at 4 am… bleah.

Ok, ok… ANYway, I am in the tub thinking, as usual, and I can’t help but notice all my freckles.  The more sun I get, the more spots my body is littered with.  Apparently I don’t tan, my freckles just get bigger and closer together, giving the illusion of a tan.  Oh well, right… they are cute.  I have always loved freckles on other people, I have always had crushes on the boys with them, and always envied the girls with faces entirely covered in them. Weird,I know… but I can’t help it I am a weirdo.

Where was I, oh yeah, I am in the tub, soaking… thinking… looking for inspiration, and all I can think about is how many of these damn freckles I have on my chest and stomach.  Do I have more than I did yesterday?  Where did they come from?  What’s the deal here? 

I let the water out of the tub and just lay there. I always get it too hot, and if I stand up too fast I get really light headed and have to lay down, so I just stayed in the tub and let the water drain. As I am laying there cooling off, I notice a pen on the floor, and I quickly grab it up, and toss the lid.

Looking at my chest I quickly begin to connect the dots… one freckle to the next… interweaving the lines, running the ink down my stomach and across my breasts, not worrying about crossing lines or if they are completely straight or not.  Ink onto my shoulders and down my arm… across my theighs on to my feet… until I am a woven mess of brilliant blue.

What is wrong with me?  What have I done?  I look into the hugeASS mirror above my bathroom sink, and I am in awe.  What a beautiful mess I am!  A walking work of art!

I can make out many pictures… faces of people I have yet to meet, scenes of movies I have always loved… first kisses, new babies, chocolate bars, soft and fuzzy bunnies… ok I made that part up.  Really I could see anything if I looked long enough.

Strangely that stuff has always been there…. hidden inside, there is a beautiful work of art… I can feel it, and I so want to show you, but I am afraid that you will laugh, and only see a weirdo covered in blue ink… vulnerable… naked.

I hopped in the shower and undid the masterpiece… my heart hurts, I am hoping that I didn’t wash it all away.. and my soul is forever ink stained.

~2

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I know I wrote the first part of this a while back ago, and believe me it hasn’t been far from my mind.  I am still going through boxes, and I actually found my jar yesterday… so I will do a draw later on.  Shit… I still haven’t written for the last one… or did I?

ANYway, where did I leave off? Oh yeah movers are gone, in bed with DH talking about how shitty the day was… and how could it get worse?

Tuesday, DH had to go in to work.. .they were having some sort of server problems while we were trying to deal with the movers and he was unable to go in… so he headed off, and I am left at my mother’s with kiddos.

I, of course, am going back and forth to the house trying to make it presentable… so maybe it will sell, and the boy is already going stir crazy and I am a wreck.  blah blah blah.. I withdraw him from school… get kiddos shot records, etc.

We go to dinner with friends, and I head back to mom’s while DH goes and helps another friend with their wireless and drinks a few beers… I needed the break.

We get up super early Wednesday to get on the road.. I of course get to drive the truck with BOTH kids, and it early so it’s not too bad… both are tired and kinda sleepy.  We set off on our trek.

We stop frequently and DH decides he wants Gabe to ride with him.. leaving me with Brynn… who hates her car seat.  I guess it’s good I handle it much better than he does.. and she cried herself to sleep more than a few times.  I think I will stick some photos in here from the drive.

She looks so peaceful when she’s sleeping.. you would never have thought the noises she made before she reached this serene place were imaginable.

We stopped Wednesday evening and stayed somewhere… crap I can’t even remember it.  This is the first time I have stayed in a hotel with kids… and it sucks.  I am used to rocking the baby to sleep and then laying her in her bed.  We brought along the play pen for her to sleep in, but she ended up just sleeping with us, because I couldn’t get her to sleep.

Thursday morning we get up, go get breakfast, and get back on the road.  There are so many cool places to stop on the way, too bad we didn’t.  I did get to stop close to the petrified forrest because Gabe needed to GO.  While the boys were in the bathroom, Brynn and I roamed around a bit, and I got some pics of her

We get to Phoenix around 3 I think, and we are staying in a hotel downtown across the street from where DH works.

He works Friday and I am in the hotel with kiddos all day.  Brynn is a screamer, and I really felt sorry for those staying in adjacent rooms. 

ANYway Saturday we sign our lease for our new apartment, and DH goes back to work.  Me and the kids run around spending money and getting our place ready to move in.

We are still in the hotel until Tuesday, but our stuff should arrive on Monday.  I go ahead and enroll Gabe in school… and we have an incident there… before I even get him fully enrolled… bad sign.

I have Brynn in the stroller so I don’t have to hold her in the office, so I can get the papers filled out as fast as possible.  So she is getting pissed and starts screaming… imagine that.  I ask Gabe, “Hey why don’t you take your sister out in front of the office and just stroll her back and forth?”  Easy task, right?

GEEZ, no.

Less than five minutes later a women comes in dragging him by the arm.. with my daughter in the stroller, and says that Gabe was pushing her out front, and dumped the whole thing over, and I should probably check her to make sure she is ok.

FUCK.. we haven’t even started school here yet, and already off on the wrong foot.

Monday the movers would be here and Gabe would be in school.. and all should be well with the world… whatEVER.

~2

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I wanted to repost this submission for The Blue Doodle that I did a while back… it will have some significance later this week… so bare with me

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Beautiful People

Every time I turn on the TV or pick up a magazine, there they are… beautiful people.  Smiling and happy or melancholy and posing, I just can’t seem to get away from them.  My whole life I have been disappointed for not looking like these people.  I have never had the perfect body, hair, or smile.  I have never stopped people in their tracks and made them wonder who I was.  I longed to be stunning, like the beautiful people on those pages.

Today, almost anyone can be beautiful… that is if you’re willing to hand over the big bucks.  I could have my imperfect body nipped, tucked, sucked, and stuffed, all I want.  I could have my hair extended, colored, curled, crimped, or straightened.  I can have my smile bleached, braced, or capped. The sky is the limit as long as my pocketbook is bottomless.

SO… what if everyone has access to this money to buy the perfect body? Thinking this is a great idea, they all fork over the big bucks to be sculpted into someone elses idea of perfection.  Sooner or later they all begin to look the same… all copies of the same photograph… all beautiful.  Sooner or later we would tire of them… stop looking.  We would search for something unique… something that stands out.  Beautiful would be redefined. 

The new beautiful would consist of imperfections… that scar or those freckles that once embarrassed us.  That crooked grin or curvy figure will steal the gazes of onlookers.  We might be surprised about how we look past the aesthetic aspect of the human persona, and maybe judge them for their intellectual makeup… that’s crazy.  I know.

I still long to be beautiful, but I dont think I will try to alter what I have been blessed with.  My imperfections may send you packing, but when the times change… and everyone has melted into the same old Polaroid… I’ll be here with all my imperfections.  I’ll be what I should have been all along… myself.

~2

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****Sorry… this is a long one, but you’ve got to read it… especially if you are thinking about moving anytime soon****

So we made it to Phoenix… I am sure you are all aware.  I want to fill you in on the HORROR that I like to call relocating to another state.  SO here is Part One… The Movers

Everytime I have ever moved, I have packed my own crap and loaded it all up onto a uhaul and drove to my happily awaited destination.  It’s no walk in the park, but it’s pretty straight forward, and any problems were my own damn fault… I couldn’t blame anyone for my packing techniques or lack thereof.

Since this move was due to a promotion for DH (Dear Husband for those unaware), his company was footing the bill… so why the hell not call someone to move our crap for us… I of courese would packup the small stuff, I had nothing better to do anyway - except maybe blog on myspace.  Besides, packing would give me something to complain about - and we all know women aren’t happy unless they have something to complain about.

So weeks before the big move, I had contacted a moving company and they were going to come and give us an estimate.  The day DUDE was suppose to be here he called to get directions to my house.
“Are you familiar with the Elk City area?” I ask.

“You’re in Elk City?” DUDE questioned, “I was told you lived in Duncan.”

“Nope, Elk City.” I reaffirmed.

“Well crap, I will call you when I get back to my office and see if we can put together an estimate over the phone.” I told him that was fine… against DH’s wishes for a walk through.

When he finally called me and asked me what all was going I went through the inventory.  He asked me about my TV and I told him that we had one of those expensive flat screens (maybe I failed to mention plasma… but I have no clue about this shit)… and my table is heavy, metal (rock on!) with a glass top… he said “Oh”.. .that was it, and gave me my estimate, etc.  I told him I would talk it over with you know who, and get back with him.

I talk to DH, and he says he still wants a walk through, but to go ahead and schedule pick-up etc.  SO… I call the company back and say we’d like to move the week of the 11th, and that I still want a walk through, etc.  He said he would probably be out around Thursday (which was the end of the week) and he would let me know, but get the paperwork sent out to me.

Thursday gets here… no DUDE, but I assume (yeah, I know) everything is fine and in good standing.  I get a call from the company that says the movers will be out on the 11th and they are set to delivery on the 18th.  WOAH!  Where is my shit going for a whole week?  Is this right?  Well I don’t know how it works, apparently the driver takes several loads at once, and it takes time, you know.  So we make arrangements to stay at the hotel across the street from DH’s work downtown for the end of the week/first of the next. We decide that we will take our time driving both vehicles with BOTH kids to Phoenix and we will leave maybe on Wednesday and get there Thursday evening.

Saturday I get a call from the company that says the movers will be here Monday afternoon.  The have a load to pick up in Tulsa and would be in the areas sometime after lunch.  I knew better, being Tulsa is a good 4 hour drive from Elk City.  I decided to make Monday kiddo #1’s last day of school that way he wouldn’t be in the way while the movers were there.  He has the tendancy to talk to anyone about anything, ask the lamest of questions, and give out more information than is neccessary.  He is the king of TMI.

So, Monday comes and drags on.  I have been fighting with kiddo #2 to stay off boxes, and out of everything, all morning.  She is relentless.  My mother was out of town and to return sometime that evening, and I was praying (not the norm) that she would get home early. I go and get the other kiddo out of school and take him back to the house… where I have to fight him to keep him off of boxes and out of everything… bleah

4 o’clock and the movers arrive…

Wait a minute… I can’t take that TV or your table top. WTF?  And… apparently he has very little room on his truck.  The company was suppose to send someone out to crate our Television, and he didn’t want to be liable for it.  He’s not going to take my Vintage King Kong poster either, and he was told we had about 5,000 pounds and he was sure we had close to 9,000, and he won’t be able to get it all on his truck.

DH is in a rage, and I am just sitting in disblief.  He immediately gets on the horn to the moving company.  DUDE tells him I never told him we had a plasma TV and the table, blah blah blah… They are yelling at each other, and I am like.. just forget it… Let just rent a uhaul and load it up.  DH says there is no way we can move that furniture ourselves into a 3rd level apartment. He’s right… and I don’t say that often. 

Meanwhile, the movers are trying to make a second level in the big truck parked in front of my little house to try to get our shit in it.

I think this is when I blacked out… if I did, cause I really don’t remember what happened, but they worked it out where someone was going to come and crate up our TV, and part of our stuff was going to be put on a second truck and taken to the warehouse until it could be put on a driver’s truck who happened to be coming out our way.  I am still in disblief, and totally pissed at DUDE for calling me a liar, etc. Oh yeah, by the way, both kiddos are completely restless, and getting hungrier by the minute.  Both vehicles are trapped in my driveway by this BIG ASS truck, and I think I even saw one of my neighbors flip me the bird.

FINALLY… my mother gets home and comes and relieves me of my rabid children.  The weirdo that came to crate my tv shows up about 10pm… and he is cutting 2×4s in my front yard, usuing the bottom of one of my reclyners as a saw horse.  It’s a good thing we wouldn’t be there much longer, because his sawing and hammering at 11:00 wasn’t winning us “The Best Neighbor of the Year” award… neither was the running 18 wheeler on my narrow street.

SO… crate guy loads the rest of our crap onto his truck… which is going to the warehouse… which we may never see again… bleah.  He has my table, King Kong, book case, bikes, trikes, and some other stuff… I don’t think we will ever see it again.

Midnight… they are gone, and we are headed to my mother’s… Both tired and sore… totally worn out - exhausted.

After baths and toothbrushing, we were ready to retire.  As I lay there in my mother’s bed, which she gave up for us to sleep in, I about how shitty the day was and rambled on to DH, “Today has to have been my worst day ever.”

“Yeah, I never want to do that again, I knew we should have had them come out first.”

“Well… we will know better next time… I never want to do this again though, but I can honestly say it can’t get worse than this… so we’re going to be ok.”  I laughed

“They still have to deliver our stuff.” he says.

SHIT…

This is getting waaaay too long… I am going to break it down into several parts and try to post them for you…

~2

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