The other morning, I had a conversation in the kitchen with a co-worker that triggered this memory for me.
So you can thank him for this post ;-)
About 15 years ago, before we were married and had kids, my ex and I were living in the bottom half of an upper/lower flat. One of those old homes that had been chopped up into multi-housing units.
Although our place had alot of character, and I really liked it, it was still an 'old, drafty house' in some respects.
To help offset the heating costs, we picked up a second hand kerosene heater.
It worked great! Threw off some wonderful heat in whatever room we had it in.
One REALLY cold winter night, we set it on low in the bedroom and went to sleep around midnight.
Shortly before daybreak, our dog Minor woke the ex by standing over us on the bed, barking his fool head off.
The ex instantly realized something was seriously wrong and woke me up with 'Kim! Get Up! Cover your mouth and DON'T BREATHE!
I don't remember the exact sequence of events that happened next (my ex could probably tell you, he's got a scary memory that way), but I do remember getting up to find the house filled with a thin layer of smoke.
Black soot was spewing from the kerosene heater.
The ex's face? Covered in black ash.
Because there wasn't an actual fire, and the air was somewhat 'cleaner' outside the bedroom, we didn't feel an urgency to get out of the house.
I ran to the bathroom. He started opening windows and called the fire dept.
Yes, I suppose a SANE person would still just get out of the house ... but I'm running to the bathroom, so I can look in the mirror to see if I have black crap all over me.
Because it was such a cold night, I was wearing those onesie pj's (full length pj's minus the feet and butt flap ... not the underwear onesies we put on infants & toddlers - just to be clear. Right girls? ;-p ).
Yeah, yeah, yeah, a onesie, dork I know. Let it go.
The only reason I bring that up, is because when I got to the bathroom, I discovered that because of the pj's, the only parts of me that had been exposed - my hands and face - were black. And I mean BLACK.
My hair, covered in grime.
The whites of my eyes were glowing, and when I opened my mouth, OH YEAH, so were the teeth baby! No White Strips required!
I remember waiting outside for the firemen, taking in the clean morning air in gulps.
I remember my throat was sore and my eyes were itchy.
I remember the BIG fans the firemen set up to air out the house.
But what I remember most?
The conversation we had with one of the firemen.
He informed us the kerosene heater had 'burned rich' (whatever the hell that means) and been spewing carbon monoxide / soot into our bedroom and throughout the house for god knew how long.
He said "If your dog hadn't woken you up when he did, you WOULDN'T have woken up"
That was a pretty powerful statement for me.
Later that morning, while cleaning black soot off the furniture, our clothes and even off the dishes in ALL the cupboards, I vowed I would NEVER own a kerosene heater again.
And I haven't.
Which brings me to my current dilemma.
The basement in my current house is always cold. ALWAYS!
So much so, I'm thinking of finally breaking down, and buying some type of small space heater.
I'll admit, I haven't even looked at them yet. Have no idea what's out there to choose from. No idea even how much they cost.
If any of you would like to throw out a suggestion or recommendation, that would be GREAT!
I can't depend on the dog this time.
I'm afraid Belle would be more concerned with getting that black shit off me and spend all her time & energy licking and not barking.
That wouldn't be cool.
Neither is almost getting killed by your kerosene heater.
Thankfully, the toaster and I have a good relationship.
But the can opener? Yeah. I'm keeping my eye on THAT one!
Saturday, January 31, 2009
The other morning, I had a conversation in the kitchen with a co-worker that triggered this memory for me.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
I read a book last weekend that is still rattling around in my head.
So much so, that I wanted to tell you about it.
And yes, I've prepared myself for the onslaught of groans ;-)
The book I read was 'Broken Harts' - The Life and Death of Owen Hart (one of Canada's most famous professional Wrestlers) as told by his wife Martha Hart and Eric Francis.
Pic courtesy of Amazon.com
Since the boys have become interested in wrestling, I have picked up a few auto biographies on some of the wrestlers.
I have also read a few of these myself.
I chose the Owen Hart story because both boys, at one point or another over the past year, have said they want to be 'professional wrestlers in the WWE'.
Adam is out on the trampoline e.v.e.r.y. d.a.y with his WWE belt, 'practicing his moves'.
So, although I let them watch it, and buy the merchandise, I'm also constantly throwing little stories out there that depict the 'down' side of wrestling.
Yes, I know it's scripted.
Yes, I know there are 'story lines'.
Yes, I know the outcome and a choreography of the base moves is pre-determined.
I also know, that one wrong move can mean a real injury.
These are still real people.
There's a toll it takes on the men physically, mentally, spiritually ... you name it.
It also takes a toll on their families, because they're on the road so much of the time.
Not only have some men given their lives (souls) over to wrestling, and specifically to the man who has, in part, made it what it is today, Vince McMahon, but the 'sport' itself has taken the lives of others all too soon.
I don't want to scare them. But I want the boys to realize there's a WHOLE lot more to it than just the 'coolness' & hype they see on TV twice a week.
One of the wrestlers we've discussed is Owen Hart,which was why I had selected this particular book.
Owen Hart died in 1999, during a live pay-per-view event in Kansas City.
He was hanging 79ft above the ring, in a harness, preparing to perform an aerial drop from the rafters into the ring.
An allegedly inexperienced Rigger secured the wrestler, in full caped costume, into the harness without a backup safety clip, and a main 'quick release' clip that was meant for releasing sails on boats ... not supporting a dangling 250lb man.
This particular clip, which the (former)WWF had allegedly been advised AGAINST using for obvious safety reasons, only required 6 pounds of pressure to release and was completely inappropriate to be used to secure ... a dangling 250lb man.
But it was cheap, and had a faster release than the 'safer' ones.
Which in turn, was better for 'The Show'.
It is believed that the act of Owen taking a breath, and adjusting his cape was enough pressure to release the clip and send him falling to his death in front of tens of thousands of people.
A tragic end for a good person who still had a lifetime worth of living to do.
I have discovered a common thread in the other wrestler's bios I've read so far.
They all contain some mention of Owen, and describe how they ALL thought of him as a genuinely nice guy. One of the really 'good' guys.
I started Broken Harts thinking it was going to be about two things; wrestling, and 'what happened that night'.
I soon discovered it was so much more.
It was about Owen Hart the person. Not simply Owen Hart the Wrestler.
It was a love story. And yes, I cried a few times.
It touched on the fact that the 'First Family of Canadian Wrestling', the Hart family, Martha's in-laws, were ... dysfunctional ... to say the least.
It was peppered with her disdain for wrestlers and the sport and lifestyle in general.
But, for ME, it was the story of Owen's wife Martha, taking on the 3 billion dollar industry (at the time) that was professional wrestling, and Vince McMahon himself.
There was absolutely no reason her husband should have died. She suspected it, and as a final promise to him, she vowed to prove it.
And she did.
The little Canadian chick, who had little to no support from the most influential wrestling family in Canada, her husband's own family, took on the giant, exposed him for the cheap bastard that he was, and held him responsible.
Yes, I know there are two sides to every story. Especially with stories like these.
This particular story was coming from a woman who never understood or liked the world her husband found himself tied to, who didn't have or want any further ties to the man allegedly indirectly responsible for her husband's death, and through the lawsuit, obtained depositions from qualified sources, regarding the direct cause (release clip) of her husband's death ... I'm leaning towards HER side of THIS story.
However, if you're a 'die-hard' wrestling fan, you will most likely NOT like this book, as Martha Hart clearly describes her dislike and distaste for pretty much everything that is wrestling.
Apparently the book is riddled with inaccuracies regarding things that happened in the WWF, but I really didn't care. I wanted to know what happened to Owen and why, not who was backstabbing who in the WWF almost ten years ago.
If there's a 'something good' that came out of all this, it is The Owen Hart Foundation, established by Martha in his memory in December 2000, with a portion of the proceeds from the trial victory.
" We provide opportunities for hard-working people
who have limited resources and unlimited potential."
---- The Owen Hart Foundation Website
I really enjoyed the book.
And I admit, I have the utmost respect for Martha Hart. The little Canadian chick with HUGE brass Balls.
For standing up and fighting for the truth, and in the end, justice for Owen.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Apparently, that's what my son told my ex, one weekend last month when he was with him.
At the time, Alec found himself punished just before report cards came out, because he hadn't been putting his 'all' into his schoolwork. Because of it, he lost his PSP and his IPOD privileges.
We go through this EVERY year. First quarter always starts off slow. He slacks off. Gets punished. Then his work improves for the rest of the year.
He's not an A student. He COULD be ... but I've been told EVERY year what I know my own Mother was told every year "He's smart! He's capable. There's no reason he couldn't be an A student, he just doesn't apply himself like he could".
Yup. Carbon copy of me when it comes to school.
However, his dad told me that when he and Alec were discussing his schoolwork, and how he had to start trying harder, Alec's reply was - "I Don't Have To Go To School ... I'm Going To Play Basketball In The NBA!"
Uh ... WHAT?
Forget the polite 'pardon me' - I'm going straight to the 'WHAT'?
Yeah. As far as this Mama was concerned ... those were Fightin' Words!!!!
So I asked my boy a few nights later, "And just how do you expect to get to the NBA?"
I could see his 12yr old brain working, looking for the right answer.
He came back with, "I'll get a drive!"
While desperately trying to contain the sudden burst of laughter, I tried again.
"No, no, that's not what I mean. I mean how are you going to get the scouts from the NBA to see you, to notice how well you play?"
"I'll just call them and tell them and then go play for them."
I could see it was now time to haul out the big guns and burst his bubble.
"Alec, if you want to play for the NBA, you HAVE to go to school. When you play high school basketball, the university scouts will look at you if you're any good.
And, if you're REALLY good, you might even get a Basketball Scholarship to go to school.
Only then, if you're an ABSOLUTELY AWESOME player in University, then the NBA scouts will come out to see you. THAT'S where they find their players. Playing SCHOOL ball!!!!"
**I have no idea if that's really how it works, but it was working for me at the moment so I was going with it!**
Alec thought about it for a second, so I drove the point home further.
"No school. No scouts. No ball."
With a resigned look, he said "So I guess that means I'm going to school tomorrow huh?"
"You do if you ever want to be a professional basketball player".
Not only did he go to school, but this was his BEST first term report card ever!
I have no idea what this next term and report will bring, and I have no idea if he'll ever make it into the NBA. But if basketball is enough motivation for him to do well in school, well, then ... I'm using and promoting whatever works!
Now, I've just got to figure out how to get Adam to realize he really DOESN'T want to be a professional WRESTLER in the WWE, who ALSO plays in the NBA when he grows up!
What happened to Doctors, or Teachers, or Bankers.
Sigh. Oh no. Not MY boys!
Keeps things interesting though ;-)
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
For those of you just joining us, this is a continuation of MAN! I'm Glad I Hit THAT Car And Not THAT One! - Part II You may want to read that first to see how we got here.
What was I going to say to this woman coming toward me?
I had backed into her car almost half an hour ago, and had been waiting in the parking lot to tell her about it. There was no damage other than the license plate, but would SHE see it that way?
Before she could reach her car, I stepped in front of her and said, "Excuse me ..."
Car Lady - Yes?
Kim - I'm really sorry, but I backed into your car a little while ago.
Car Lady - Oh did you?
Kim - Yes, I did. I didn't hit it hard, and I took a look at it, and the only thing I can see that's damaged is the license plate. I've been waiting for you to come out, so I could tell you.
Then, I held my breath.
Car Lady - Oh yeah?
Man! This woman was really hard to read! It almost sounded like indifference, but I wasn't out of the parking lot yet!
We bent down, and I showed her how her license plate had rolled in on itself. I also rubbed more snow from around it, to make sure I hadn't missed any dents or scrapes.
I turned to her, and looked for some sign of my fate on her face.
With a 'go 'way with ya' shake of her hand, and sort of a 'ppffffhhhhttt' noise, she said, "Ah, HE'LL never notice that."
OK. Did I just hear her correctly?
Car Lady - That's nothing. But thanks for being honest and sticking around to tell me about it though.
I couldn't help but take a second to look over my shoulder.
Yup. He was still there.
Buddy who had backed into a truck, less than 10 min after I had backed into this lady's car, was STILL in discussion with the owner of the truck. Still exchanging insurance information with her.
Could it be that I was just going to drive away?
Kim - Are you SURE?
And then I threw it out there ...
Kim - Did you want to exchange ... information?
Little Voice In Kim's Head - DAMN IT Kim! When are you EVER going to learn to keep your mouth SHUT!?!?!?!?
Then, AGAIN perhaps because it was the Holiday season, maybe because the 'highway angels' were still on our shoulders, whatever the reason, Car Lady said those magic words, those words very seldom heard at the scene of an accident -
'Nah, don't worry about it."
OMIGOD! WOOHOO! Serious internal Happy Dance going on here People!
After one more "Are you sure?" and a "Yes, yes!" I thanked her profusely and climbed back in the truck. And got ready to roll. QUICK.
I may be nice, but I'm not stupid!
It was time to get moving before she had second thoughts and decided HE might notice something more after all.
The minute my door was shut, I was flooded with -
What did she say?
Was she mad?
Do you have to give her some papers like the other guy?
Hey! Are we leaving?
Kim - Yup, buckle up boys, the lady said we were good to go, so we're outta here! We've got a hockey game to get to!!!
And with that, I looked left, looked right, and pulled out of the parking spot, and made my way to the exit of the pharmacy.
Before I made the turn on to the main road, I took one last look at the other guy who had the misfortune of backing into someone's truck that afternoon. Still there. Still in discussion.
As I pulled out into traffic, one of the boys said "Look Mom! The other guy is STILL there!"
I jerked my thumb back towards the car I'd hit, who was now behind me in traffic and said, "MAN! I'm glad I hit THAT car, and not THAT one!!!"
And you wonder why I have a label specifically for Road Trips and Other Adventures? Sheesh!
Sunday, January 18, 2009
For those of you just joining us, this is a continuation of MAN! I'm Glad I Hit THAT Car And Not THAT One! You may want to read that first to see how we got here.
No sooner did I start to open my door, then the man veered left and started to walk towards my drivers side. Meaning the passenger side of the car next to me.
I closed my door again.
He couldn't be the driver of the car I'd backed into.
He got into the small white car directly behind me, sat there for a minute, and busied himself doing 'stuff'.
At first, I thought maybe he had seen me back into the other car, and he was just killing time, waiting to see if I was going to leave or not.
I took one last look at him in my review mirror and then went back to watching the front door of the store.
By now, we'd been there over 15 min, and the boys were starting to get restless.
Boys - Maybe you should go in and see if you can find the person who owns the car.
That thought had also crossed MY mind.
But I was afraid if I went in, and randomly started asking strangers if they owned a little black car, that the one I was looking for would simply walk out of the store, and I'd miss them.
No. Better just to wait.
I was focused on the front door of the store, the boy's back seat conversation vaguely registering over my thoughts of the impending 'I'm sorry I hit your car' conversation, when suddenly ... BANG!!!
What the hell?
I quickly looked around me, nothing. I looked in the rear view mirror ...
Buddy who had been sitting in the little white car behind me had just backed into a big truck directly behind HIM!
I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing.
From what I could see in my mirror, it looked like he had done the EXACT same thing I had, curled up the license plate. From my vantage point, the front end didn't look 'smashed' by any means. I couldn't see any other damage.
Keep in mind, we were in a parking lot, and aside from Road Rage Dude, the rest of us were moving relatively slow.
The boys had turned around, to look out the back window, at the sound of the crash.
Boys - That guy just backed into that truck Mom!
Kim - Yup.
Boys - He just did the same thing YOU did!
Kim - trying to regain adult Mom composure - Uh ... yup.
Boys - Wonder what HE'S gonna do now?
I wondered too.
Turned out there were TWO honest people in the parking lot that day :-)
He pulled back into the spot behind me. Turned it off, and went into the store to find the owner of the truck he'd just hit.
About 5 min later, he comes out with a man, like him in his 50's, and young girl, mid 20's, with a VERY pissed off look on her face.
Right then I could tell, it didn't matter WHAT the damage was to her vehicle, from that look on her face, she was prepared to be angry over it.
They walked over to her truck, looked at it, talked for a minute, then he walked back over to his car and started digging through the glove box.
Uh oh ... that's never good.
Sure enough, out he comes with paperwork. Yup, she was pissed.
Not sure how much damage could have been done by the small car to the big truck, but whatever it was, it was going through insurance.
Poor guy. He didn't look too happy now either.
Was I going to meet the same fate, if and when the person who owned the car I'D backed into over 25 min ago finally came out of the pharmacy?
Sigh. So much for our 'quick pit-stop'.
I tore my eyes from the mirror and the scene behind me just in time to see her come out.
Another person in their 50's, carrying a couple of bags in each hand. A woman this time. With a grim look on her face. And ... yup ... she was coming toward us.
Boys - Do you think that's her Mom?
Kim - Yup, think so.
Boys - Are you going to go talk to her?
Kim - Yup, stay here please.
Boys - Hope she doesn't get mad like the other lady is.
Kim - Yeah. Meeeeee to.
And so once again, with my head filled with visions of the Pissed Off Truck Chick behind me, and while trying to study the face & determine the personality of the woman walking towards us in 30 seconds or less, I took a deep breath, and opened the door ...
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Between Christmas and New Years, the boys and I took a road trip. Surprise, surprise lol.
We had been driving almost 5hrs. Only another half hour away from our destination.
I decided to make a pit stop at a popular pharmacy. An extremely busy pharmacy with a crowded parking lot.
I found a spot right in front. Perfect! Ran in, ran out. Perfect! Let's get back on the road boys!
I put it in reverse, put my foot on the break and looked over my left shoulder. Nothing coming that way.
Looked over the right, some ass barreling in on me FAST. He was aimed right for me, so I went on the assumption he was either going for my spot or the one next to me.
I was already backing out, and he wasn't slowing down, and I was so concerned about where he was, and knew there was an empty spot directly behind me I could slide into, that I focused on him just a little too long.
As I was turning my head back over to the left, to check where the nearest parked car was beside that empty spot ... BANG!
Kim - CRAP!
Boys - You just hit that parked car Mom!!!!!
Kim - Yeah. I know. Crap.
I pulled into the empty space next to it, turned mine off, sat there for a second and just ... blinked.
I just backed into that damn car.
I thought for sure I was closer to the empty spot, but I was so concerned about where Road Rage Dude Who Was About To Clip My Ass On His Way By was , that I just didn't realize I was so close to the other car.
My own fault. Totally. Damn.
Boys - Sooooo ...Whatcha gonna do now Mom?
Kim - Sigh. I'm going to go and see what damage I did. You two STAY HERE!
It was one of those times, so few and far between, when they BOTH listened.
I got out and walked around the front of the other car. By now, I was expecting someone to have come out of the store, freaking at me about the 'incident'.
I didn't want to see the damage :-(
I drive a CRV. This was a little car. Don't ask me what kind. It was a little black car.
Crap Crap Crap!
Then, maybe because it was the Holiday season, maybe because the 'highway angels' were still on our shoulders, (yes, I think we have angels on our shoulders when we need them) whatever the reason, I just stood there, eyes wide, mouth open.
The license plate was bent. I mean it was curled up from the bottom and rolled down from the top kind of bent - but that was it.
I ran my hand around the plate, wiping away leftover snow/slush - nothing.
No dents. No scratches. Nothing but a curled up license plate.
I got back in the truck and told the boys what I'd found.
Boys - So, whatcha gonna do now Mom?
Kim - Now, we wait.
They asked why we had to wait if there was no damage to the other car. And I say only 'the other car' because to be honest, I hadn't even looked at my own. I didn't care. My only concern was what had I done to the OTHER one, and what was it going to cost me.
I wasn't looking forward to explaining to the car's owner that I had backed into it. You never know how people are going to react in these situations.
I knew I was pretty much safe from any 'whiplash' lawsuits resulting from it, but other than that, anything to do with the vehicle, well .. people can get a little freaky about their vehicles.
Nope, wasn't looking forward meeting the owner.
But it was just one of those things that HAD to be done.
I explained to the boys that although there had been no 'serious' damage done to the car, we still had to wait for the owner to come out and explain what happened.
Own up to what I had done.
Not only was it the right thing to do, it would also be considered a hit and run if I simply left.
For about five minutes the boys and I discussed motor vehicle legislation, while I kept an eye on the front door of the store. Watching each person as they came out, getting ready to jump out and ambush the License Plate Roll owner with an explanation and an apology before they could get in their car.
Then, out he came. A man who looked to be in his mid to late 50's. Walking with purpose. Confidence.
And heading straight for us.
I put my hand on the door handle, asked the boys to 'stay here please!' once again, took a deep breath and thought to myself ...
"OK! Time to face the music. Here we go. "
And opened the door ...
Friday, January 9, 2009
Seems like an innocent enough question huh?
Not in MY house!!!
A few nights ago, I was kickin' around the kitchen, putting this here, that there, when Adam came flying up the stairs from the (w)rec(ked)-room.
"MOM! Wanna know what I learned at school today?"
Thinking along the lines of reading, writing and arithmetic, I eagerly replied "Absolutely! I'd LOVE to know what you learned at school today!"
Without skipping a beat, he says "Masturbation."
I didn't think that course was taught until Grade 6!!! Is it time for another one of THOSE discussions already?!?!?!
You know, the "There's nothing wrong with it Son, just do it in private, in your own room. It's only for you to enjoy. And ... You can get arrested for doing that in public ya know!" discussion.
Keeping the tone light, I said " Really? And who were you discussing that with?"
He comes back with "Johnny"
Damn! This wasn't going to be good. "Johnny" is older and has a tendency to teach the younger kids interesting new words and concepts.
"And what did he have to say about it?" I asked, already cringing inside for what I was about to hear.
"Oh, he showed me." he said.
I COULDN'T have heard him correctly.
I opened my mouth, and was about to go up one side of little "Johnny" and down the other, when Adam quickly interrupted.
My Mom always said my facial expressions gave me away, and I never had to say a word LOL.
"NOOOOO MOM!!!!!" He had his pants on!!!! Geeeeeeeeze!!!!!! I mean he showed me with his hand, out here ... in the air ... ya know ....!"
I slowly let go of the breath I didn't realize I had been holding.
OK. Wasn't as bad as I thought. Could have been worse. Now ... which direction was I going to take this discussion in.
Turned out, the decision was made for me, because before I could even get my brain together, or a word out, he thoughtfully said, "But ya know, NOW I know what that's called. What it's name is."
"Um ... what do you mean Hon?"
He looked up at me, as if I'd been keeping some sacred manhood secret from him all these years ...
"YOU KNOW, he said, NOW I know it's called Masturbation, and not just -
"Stop playing with yourself!".
And with that, he turned and ran back downstairs to join his brother and friend.
I let the conversation drop there.
Instead, I walked back to the dishwasher, and stopped trying to contain the burst of laughter the minute his foot touched that bottom step!
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
In honour of my 100th post ... yeah ... this one marks 100 :-)
YAY ME! Insert horn and general noisemaker music madness here! WOOHOO!
As I was saying, for my 100th post, I wanted to turn it over to you, those who come and visit the korner, to hear our adventures.
Well, to those of you who comment anyway ;-p
The rest of you can use this opportunity to come out of the woodwork and say 'Hey!'
When I realized I was reaching this blogging milestone, I looked back over the archives, wondering what 100 thoughts I'd decided to share over the last couple of years. Refreshing my memory, reliving some of the adventures.
Others weren't all that great the FIRST time I experienced them, so I skipped over those.
And it made me wonder, out of all the tales I've shared, which was YOUR favourite?
Give me a Top 2.
I know certain topics seem to bring people here. Like Stuart, Batista, or James Bulger. But it would be nice to know which one(s) YOU really liked. The one that made you laugh, cry, pissed off ... got to you.
Tell me - Kim, I really liked ...
That's your present to me, for my 100th post :-)
Now, someone hand me a drink, break out the tunes, and let's get this blog birthday party going!
Monday, January 5, 2009
Malcolm In The Middle.
Take note of Mom's Face! LOL
Until very recently, I had never watched an episode of this. When it first started, in 2000, Alec was only 4, and Adam an infant, so neither were interested in 'sitcoms' yet. At this point, I was still trying to get that freakin' purple dinosaur off my TV screen!
Over the past couple of months, Alec has discovered Malcolm.
Pic courtesy of TV.com
At first, it caught his attention because of Frankie Muniz. He recognized him from Agent Cody Banks.
Now, it's become his new favourite show.
I caught part of one episode a few weeks ago, and thought to myself "Holy Crap! That could be US!'
What I mean is, the relationship between her four boys. They fight. Constantly. She's trying to reprimand them. Constantly. She loses that battle, alot! She loves her boys, but some days, they drive her completely and TOTALLY insane!
See? Totally US!
That night, I had convinced Adam to watch an episode, it happened to be titled 'Christmas'.
"When Malcolm and his brothers destroy their Christmas tree ornaments, Lois punishes them by canceling Christmas and moves all the presents into the garage. The only way she will reinstate the holiday is if the boys behave impeccably up to Christmas morning. Her plan works better than expected, and Lois is touched that her family responded so well to her challenge."
It was the part where Mom walks in, to find the boys surrounded by broken ornaments, a disheveled tree and chaos, and she COMPLETELY loses it!
That was the part where we ... altogether as a family ... within the first 10 minutes of the episode, looked at each other and realized ...
This is not a clip from that particular episode, but classic "Lois" nonetheless ...
Lois: I've been a terrible mother.
Reese: It's okay, Mom. I've known that for a long time.
Ok, so I may be channeling a psycho mom, but we do both love our boys!
I just hope they love me enough, to take me out of the loonie bin and back into society some day!
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Yup, those words came out of my Grandmother's mouth on Christmas Eve.
My Grandmother is over 80yrs old. I love her with all my heart. And although I don't see her as often as I probably should, I definitely hug her close, tell her how much I love her every time I do see her, and she tells me.
And she tells me she prays for me. Alot.
She's a religious (catholic) woman, and praying is simply part of her day. I'm not the only one in the family she prays for, but I'm definitely up there on her list of souls who need looking after LOL.
On Christmas Eve, she gave me a hug and whispered in my ear "I love you Kimberly. And I pray for you. I pray that you'll meet a nice man."
It made me smile.
And inside, it made me chuckle.
Like 'meeting a nice man' solves all the world's problems :-)
I know she just wants me to be happy.
And so I gave her a smile, and a squeeze and said "Oh, I'm sure I will some day Nanny."
'Finding a man' however, isn't necessarily the key to happiness for me.
Don't get me wrong. I haven't decided to switch teams yet, and don't think 'Finding a woman' is the key either ;-)
And so, on that 2+hr stretch of open, deserted highway home on Christmas night, I gave it some thought.
I've been single almost 5 years now.
No dating. No relationships. No involvement. While others around me, who find themselves single again, seem to move easily into new relationships.
Some last. Others don't. But they're 'out there'.
Ok, so I'm not a bar slut, I'm not out every weekend looking to meet someone, I haven't been through the roster of single co-workers, but I DO go out and have fun. And to places where you would think there would be other 'normal' single people milling about.
Why haven't I met that someone who makes me want to say "OHHHH! Yeah baby! He's STALKING material!!!! Quick! Find him on Facebook!"
Or, let's say I have. Why haven't I done anything about it?
I don't approach men, looking at them as the next conquest.
I spend more time walking with my head down, in my purse, looking for my freakin' keys, and don't even notice them until they've already gone past!
And Hell, who am I kidding, I probably wouldn't remember what to do with them after they'd been ... conquered, anyway.
The men. Not the keys.
I'm a strong believer in 'everything happens for a reason'. And I just think, for whatever reason, that time to 'meet a nice man' hasn't come.
I think meeting someone is like getting slapped in the face.
You usually don't expect it, but it certainly gets your attention. And it just, happens.
It hasn't happened. Or if it has, I missed it.
Is it because I need to be raising my boys right now. Giving them my full attention to make sure they don't turn out to be crack addicts or serial killers?
Is it because I need to be 'on my own' for awhile. Just for me?
Am I just too damn picky in what I want in someone?
Is it self preservation? It's a scary single world out there. Do I think maybe the Devil I knew, is better than the ones out there I don't?
Is it REALLY that hard to find a cross between this ...
and this ...
and this ...
and yeah ... even a little of this! ;-p
Mmmm. Yeah. Keep Praying Nan! Keep Praying! ;-)
Now, where did I leave that copy of 'Get Yourself A Nice Man In 12 Days After Christmas (Or Less!)' that Mrs Clause dropped in my stocking this year ...