So the other day, well not really the other day, more like two months ago (I just didn't post it because I'm super lazy and have been totally enthralled in my own personal drama...read: moving 1800 miles), I told you I'd tell you about Chris almost getting arrested by TSA. Here goes.
Ok. So. Chris and I were traveling to Georgia to get some painting and stuff done on the house. The whole trip really started poorly because I'd had a huge fight with the kids' dad, his car died, which meant that he couldn't watch the kids while we were gone, so we had to let him borrow our car while we were gone and have him pick us up at the airport when we got back. Of course now, like 2 months later, it really doesn't sound like a big deal, but at the time, it was. The tension was so thick in the car, you could've cut it with a knife. So Chris and I were already pretty stressed when we got to the airport. We tried to check in through the little self-check-in kiosk, but it of course didn't work. When we got to the counter, the grouchy little man was all, did you try the self-check-in? I was like, yes, we did. It didn't work. He lets out this big obnoxious sigh, and walked the 4 feet around the counter to help us. When the tickets were printed, we noticed that our seats weren't together. We asked if he could fix that for us. Now, keep in mind, we aren't world-class travelers, but we do travel quite a bit. We had a long distance (1800 miles) relationship for over a year, so flying isn't a new thing. Anyway, we always sit together, and no airline, ever, has had a problem fixing our seats. Well, this douchebag did. He was all, I can't change your seat without permission. I'm like, well, get permission. The guy's all, ma'am, we don't do that. I was like, it's fine, we'll just ask at the gate. Then the guy goes into this 10-minute diatribe about how they don't do that. I was like, dude. Whatever. We'll ask at the gate. We good here? We got through security and made it to the gate with time to spare. Then it went really bad.
Now, Chris is just about the most charming person on the planet. He always gets what he wants, he's polite, charming, smooth talking, the whole deal. He never raises his voice, and people always bend over backwards to help him. This time? Not so much. We walked up to the desk and Chris all, excuse me, ma'am? I just have a quick problem I'm hoping you can help me with. You see, I would like to sit with my wife on the plane, but our seats aren't together. The gentleman downstairs said that you might be able to help me. This woman, snorted and said, No. I can't. Chris said, do you think you could check again? She was like, No. Chris raises his eyebrows, takes a deep breath and says, is there some reason we can't sit together? She sighs and says, I'd have to change someone's seat. And I'm not doing that without asking them. Chris says, well, can we ask them? She's all huffy at this point, and snaps, Fine. Then she picked up the phone and called the angry little man that we'd already talked to downstairs, who apparently was a "manager", if manager meant douchebag. They talk for a second on the phone and then she smirks at Chris, and says, no. You can't change seats. Chris opened his mouth to say something, then she walked away...like mid-conversation. We were like, uh...what the fuck? If the day hadn't already been absolute crap, we probably start laughing. I didn't find it even remotely funny. I burst in to tears. I was like, I can't sit next to some stranger on the plane! I hate flying and you know how I feel about enclosed spaces! I can't do this, please don't make me do this! Chris was like, I know baby, I'm gonna fix it. They always change it for us. This lady is just a bitch, I'll fix it. Don't cry. So I walk over and sit in the chairs, totally pouting.
The lady didn't come right back, so Chris patiently waited at the counter for her. When she finally came back, she was helping other people, so Chris continued to be patient. When she was done helping everyone, making phone calls and trying her level best to ignore Chris, she finally was like, can I help you, sir? Now, I didn't hear what else was said, I was too busy pouting in the chair. The next thing I knew, Chris was walking quickly toward me, shaking his head. I was like, what happened? He was like, that fucking whore just threatened to call TSA on me! This, I found a little funny. Apparently, he asked to speak to a manager, and she said, if you don't stop bothering me, I'm going to report you to TSA. You can explain to them why you're terrorizing me. She picked up the scary red phone to call them, and he walked away. I feel sure I'm not making it sound nearly as scary as it actually was...
So maybe the moral of the story is, airline personnel, quit being dicks. Don't use TSA as a threat so you don't have to deal with people. TSA is there for security, not for your personal bodyguard. Because here's the truth, that lady was a straight up bitch, she didn't even TRY to help us, she was rude and absolutely unprofessional. Chris didn't so much as raise his voice, and she was nothing but nasty. That's not TSA's fault, nor is it their problem. Or maybe the moral of the story is to never fly with Delta again, EVER (we usually use AirTran because they're cheaper and have THE best customer service of any airline we've ever used, and Delta has never given us anything but problems), no matter how cheap they are. Or maybe the moral of the story is, don't bother with airline personnel, just put on your best sad face and manipulate total strangers into doing what you what them to. Which is what we ended up doing.
Once we were on the plane, Chris said to the lady in the seat next to his, ma'am, my wife is terrified of flying, and may have a panic attack if she can't sit next to me. Can you please switch seats with her? She didn't seem to be too happy about it, but one look at me, complete with red puffy eyes, sniffling and wet cheeks, she moved. I slept the whole flight.
One small action at a time
Awhile back, I was contacted by Jon Brooks, of FOAR.US and was asked to cover their launch. Sadly, I was so busy and so wrapped up in our move that I dropped the ball...big time. I should've covered this before Christmas, or even during the big Christmastime push, but I'm wondering if this is maybe a blessing in disguise (disguised of course as an overworked, overstressed mom). The new year is just days away, and aren't we all looking for a resolution we can keep? Maybe this year, we can resolve to do the right thing. Maybe this year, we can resolve to make a difference in the world, one small action at a time.
FOAR.US is a clothing company that works with the non-profit organizations, War Child and Women Thrive to raise money for their organizations through the sale of t-shirts. According to FOAR's website, "Foar.us has the objective of redefining conscious consumerism and bring light to vital issues too often forgotten. Through fashion we give people the opportunity to have a voice beyond a simple aesthetic." In other words, you're going to buy t-shirts anyway, why not buy a t-shirt that makes a difference in the world? Incidentally, $10 from each t-shirt sold goes directly to the charity it was designed for (the t-shirts sell for $30-$35). Their products are also organic as well as sweat shop free.
I'm not going to rant or rave. I'm not going to beg and plead. What I will tell you is, these are really cool t-shirts. The charities they've been designed for are worthy and deserve more attention. Check it out for yourself. Maybe you'll decide that you want to put some of that Christmas cash to a new, awesome t-shirt. Maybe you'll just decide to check out their website and spread the word about what they're doing. Either way, I really don't think you'll be disappointed. I wasn't.
I also want to make sure this is crystal clear: I haven't been paid a dime for this post. I haven't been offered or promised any merchandise. This is a project I believe in, and all I've received is a great feeling for doing the right thing, and that's enough for me.
FOAR.US is a clothing company that works with the non-profit organizations, War Child and Women Thrive to raise money for their organizations through the sale of t-shirts. According to FOAR's website, "Foar.us has the objective of redefining conscious consumerism and bring light to vital issues too often forgotten. Through fashion we give people the opportunity to have a voice beyond a simple aesthetic." In other words, you're going to buy t-shirts anyway, why not buy a t-shirt that makes a difference in the world? Incidentally, $10 from each t-shirt sold goes directly to the charity it was designed for (the t-shirts sell for $30-$35). Their products are also organic as well as sweat shop free.
I'm not going to rant or rave. I'm not going to beg and plead. What I will tell you is, these are really cool t-shirts. The charities they've been designed for are worthy and deserve more attention. Check it out for yourself. Maybe you'll decide that you want to put some of that Christmas cash to a new, awesome t-shirt. Maybe you'll just decide to check out their website and spread the word about what they're doing. Either way, I really don't think you'll be disappointed. I wasn't.
I also want to make sure this is crystal clear: I haven't been paid a dime for this post. I haven't been offered or promised any merchandise. This is a project I believe in, and all I've received is a great feeling for doing the right thing, and that's enough for me.
Sadly, Santa didn't leave me any Xanax
So Christmas is over (huge sigh of relief). We got through the day with no tears, which was fantastic. The days leading up to Christmas were pretty difficult. I had a couple of days there that I could hardly even get out of bed. I just felt so completely done with everything. I think it was a mix of the stress of moving, being a little homesick, Christmastime, our house not being finished, the whole mess of everything just kind of fell down on me. Christmas day though, we decided there'd been enough wallowing time, and we went to go see some of Chris' family that I'd never met before. They were so wonderful, saying all kinds of wonderful things like, baby, that dawg bit the fool out of me!, and well, he was just fussin and fussin at me, but I didn't pay him no nevermind, or well ain't you just the prettiest thang. I really love Southern accents, and his family his very, very Southern. They were just so kind and welcoming, and just so much better than I thought they'd be. Like his Aunt, who is the one who said that the dog bit the fool out of her, is so sweet. She said to me and the kids, y'all just call me MeMaw. Which is awesome, because 1. I've never had a MeMaw, and 2. MeMaw is an awesome name.
So in the post-Christmas haze, we're attempting to get back to normal. I've decided that I'm not going to be depressed, and I'm not going to be lonely. I'm certainly not going to be bored, the kids are making sure of that. They've been fighting. A lot. Like constantly. I feel like I've been anointed the new warden of asylum. Like this morning, they were fighting because Kat was making thank you cards, David was playing his Playstation. Kat asked David how many presents her uncle got her (so she could make sure to include them all in her note). He said 2, she thought it was 3. They started screaming at each other about it. Or like last night, they were playing Battleship. Kat told David that she wanted him to tell her again all of the numbers he'd already called so she could mark them down (or some such thing), David said no, Kat said yes, and they nearly came to blows about it. I don't know if it's too much candy, not enough sleep, Christmas, or a combination of all three, but those two have lost their damn mind. And I'm not too far behind.
I find myself missing the time when I have too much to do before they get home from school, or the blissful quiet that settles over the house as they leave for the bus stop in the morning, having a cup coffee in the morning without anyone nagging at me, the mundane tasks that I do during the day...when I'm COMPLETELY ALONE. Incidentally, there are 8 more days until they go back to school, I hope. This morning, my dreams of peace and solitude were shattered. See, the state of Georgia says that the kids need some special form filled out by their doctor, verifying that they've had all their shots, etc. It can't be a Maine shot record, it has to be a Georgia shot record. So they don't need shots, just to have a Georgia doctor say that they had their shots in Maine. Confused yet? Me too. Anyway, this has to be done within 30 days of when the kids start school, so their appointments are this week. When their new pediatrician called to verify the insurance information, they told me that the number I gave them is inactive, essentially they have no insurance. When Chris transferred down here, apparently, his insurance didn't. There was some crap about how this center uses a different carrier, I don't know, I glazed over at the thought of another week of the kids bickering. Well, anyway, the lady is all, let's just reschedule so your husband's work can get this all settled. I was like, NO! The school says if this isn't done by January 5, they can't go back to school! She was like, ma'am, if there's no insurance on file, you'll have to pay cash. I was like, fine, I don't care. I'll pay cash. She was all, well...it's going to be at least $250 per child, you may end paying well over $500 for this. A small price to pay for my sanity.
So in the post-Christmas haze, we're attempting to get back to normal. I've decided that I'm not going to be depressed, and I'm not going to be lonely. I'm certainly not going to be bored, the kids are making sure of that. They've been fighting. A lot. Like constantly. I feel like I've been anointed the new warden of asylum. Like this morning, they were fighting because Kat was making thank you cards, David was playing his Playstation. Kat asked David how many presents her uncle got her (so she could make sure to include them all in her note). He said 2, she thought it was 3. They started screaming at each other about it. Or like last night, they were playing Battleship. Kat told David that she wanted him to tell her again all of the numbers he'd already called so she could mark them down (or some such thing), David said no, Kat said yes, and they nearly came to blows about it. I don't know if it's too much candy, not enough sleep, Christmas, or a combination of all three, but those two have lost their damn mind. And I'm not too far behind.
I find myself missing the time when I have too much to do before they get home from school, or the blissful quiet that settles over the house as they leave for the bus stop in the morning, having a cup coffee in the morning without anyone nagging at me, the mundane tasks that I do during the day...when I'm COMPLETELY ALONE. Incidentally, there are 8 more days until they go back to school, I hope. This morning, my dreams of peace and solitude were shattered. See, the state of Georgia says that the kids need some special form filled out by their doctor, verifying that they've had all their shots, etc. It can't be a Maine shot record, it has to be a Georgia shot record. So they don't need shots, just to have a Georgia doctor say that they had their shots in Maine. Confused yet? Me too. Anyway, this has to be done within 30 days of when the kids start school, so their appointments are this week. When their new pediatrician called to verify the insurance information, they told me that the number I gave them is inactive, essentially they have no insurance. When Chris transferred down here, apparently, his insurance didn't. There was some crap about how this center uses a different carrier, I don't know, I glazed over at the thought of another week of the kids bickering. Well, anyway, the lady is all, let's just reschedule so your husband's work can get this all settled. I was like, NO! The school says if this isn't done by January 5, they can't go back to school! She was like, ma'am, if there's no insurance on file, you'll have to pay cash. I was like, fine, I don't care. I'll pay cash. She was all, well...it's going to be at least $250 per child, you may end paying well over $500 for this. A small price to pay for my sanity.
I'm back, and I'm still a badass
Nearly 30 days since my last post. Honestly, I thought that maybe I'd stop blogging. I thought that with all the changes, the new set of expectations, and my new "job", I just didn't have time to write. Well, this is my second day home alone, and really, you can only wipe off the counters so many times before you get bored.
So here I am. In my new house. In Georgia. It's pretty damn awesome. Yes, I only have one working bathroom. And yes, it doesn't have a sink. Sure, we're still brushing our teeth in the kitchen sink, but you know what? I don't care. I'm in my own house. Oh, AND...it has a dishwasher! I've never had a dishwasher before, so that's exciting...if getting excited about appliances is your thing. Apparently it's mine. Which is a little bothersome because I'm not the kind of girl who gets all giddy over appliances. For instance, last night I was cooking dinner and I pushed a button on the microwave (it had a picture of a light bulb on it) and what do you know? A light came on! But before you go scoffing and thinking I'm total retard, let me explain. The microwave is over the stove, so when I pushed the button, I thought that the light INSIDE the microwave would come on. Nope, light UNDER the microwave came on, so my stove top was lit up. Ok, I know, this wouldn't excite many people, but it thrilled the hell out of me.
I'm almost done unpacking. It's been a little nerve rattling because the other day I moved a box and the biggest cockroach I've ever seen jumped out and tried to kill me, worse, he brought his brother to help. The kids were sitting on the bed and Davey jumped up and shrieked like a girl, he started jumping up and down on the bed, Kat was waving her arms around screaming, I on the other hand, was very calm. I calmly said, oh my, a large cockroach. I need to kill it. Yeah...not so much. I let out a bloodcurdling Jaime Lee Curtis "Halloween" scream and ran out of the room. Chris was standing in the kitchen laughing. I was like, did you not hear me screaming? He was like, yeah, I heard you. I was like, weren't you going to check to make sure we were ok? Aren't you concerned for the welfare of your wife and children? He was all, no. I figured you saw a bug. I was like, well...I did. But you're a jerk. I finally convinced him to stop laughing at me and come kill it. He found the first one and stomped on it, but the second one ran under the bed and Chris wouldn't go find it. He said if I feel compelled to crawl under the bed and look for a cockroach I should do so, but he wasn't going to. I decided I didn't really want to either. Now, every time I move a box, I expect to see a cockroach. We found a dead one in the bathroom that wasn't there when we first moved in, Chris said it was probably the one that ran under the bed. He said the house has been bug sprayed, so it was just a matter of time before it died. I'm not sure if I believe him, but I haven't seen any more yet, so I hope he's telling the truth and not just waiting for me to amuse him with more screaming and flailing about.
Everyone warned me that there would be big bugs here, I just had to get used to them. I think I'm getting the hang of it. Yesterday morning I was sitting at the table drinking my coffee when I saw this big brown hoppy crawly bug. Some kind of beetle on steroids or something. He was prancing around in his annoying little bug way thinking he's the shit. I calmly put my coffee cup down, picked up a hammer and smashed the crap out of him. I was like, that's right, bitch. Who's the badass now?
So here I am. In my new house. In Georgia. It's pretty damn awesome. Yes, I only have one working bathroom. And yes, it doesn't have a sink. Sure, we're still brushing our teeth in the kitchen sink, but you know what? I don't care. I'm in my own house. Oh, AND...it has a dishwasher! I've never had a dishwasher before, so that's exciting...if getting excited about appliances is your thing. Apparently it's mine. Which is a little bothersome because I'm not the kind of girl who gets all giddy over appliances. For instance, last night I was cooking dinner and I pushed a button on the microwave (it had a picture of a light bulb on it) and what do you know? A light came on! But before you go scoffing and thinking I'm total retard, let me explain. The microwave is over the stove, so when I pushed the button, I thought that the light INSIDE the microwave would come on. Nope, light UNDER the microwave came on, so my stove top was lit up. Ok, I know, this wouldn't excite many people, but it thrilled the hell out of me.
I'm almost done unpacking. It's been a little nerve rattling because the other day I moved a box and the biggest cockroach I've ever seen jumped out and tried to kill me, worse, he brought his brother to help. The kids were sitting on the bed and Davey jumped up and shrieked like a girl, he started jumping up and down on the bed, Kat was waving her arms around screaming, I on the other hand, was very calm. I calmly said, oh my, a large cockroach. I need to kill it. Yeah...not so much. I let out a bloodcurdling Jaime Lee Curtis "Halloween" scream and ran out of the room. Chris was standing in the kitchen laughing. I was like, did you not hear me screaming? He was like, yeah, I heard you. I was like, weren't you going to check to make sure we were ok? Aren't you concerned for the welfare of your wife and children? He was all, no. I figured you saw a bug. I was like, well...I did. But you're a jerk. I finally convinced him to stop laughing at me and come kill it. He found the first one and stomped on it, but the second one ran under the bed and Chris wouldn't go find it. He said if I feel compelled to crawl under the bed and look for a cockroach I should do so, but he wasn't going to. I decided I didn't really want to either. Now, every time I move a box, I expect to see a cockroach. We found a dead one in the bathroom that wasn't there when we first moved in, Chris said it was probably the one that ran under the bed. He said the house has been bug sprayed, so it was just a matter of time before it died. I'm not sure if I believe him, but I haven't seen any more yet, so I hope he's telling the truth and not just waiting for me to amuse him with more screaming and flailing about.
Everyone warned me that there would be big bugs here, I just had to get used to them. I think I'm getting the hang of it. Yesterday morning I was sitting at the table drinking my coffee when I saw this big brown hoppy crawly bug. Some kind of beetle on steroids or something. He was prancing around in his annoying little bug way thinking he's the shit. I calmly put my coffee cup down, picked up a hammer and smashed the crap out of him. I was like, that's right, bitch. Who's the badass now?
