The Epitome of Lazy = Teenage Boy

We all know teenage boys are the epitome of lazy but this?  This takes the cake.

Look at what I found in the backseat of my car this morning.....

A dart board.  With darts still embedded in it.  It looks a tad familiar.  Hmmm...where could that have come from?

Well, let's re-create the timeline, shall we?

Yesterday evening, after football practice, Man-Child informs me that he would like to meet up with his friends (someone please tell me how this boy had the energy to go OUT after practicing in this heat!?) at a local sports bar/restaurant place that he and friends like to hang out at and ogle women play pool.  I was fine with this - as long as he didn't hook up with some wild woman-predator come home too late.

Being the FABULOUS mother I am because I was in for the night and wouldn't be needing it anyway - I offered to lend him my car since the temperature has been hovering around 100 degrees and his air conditioner has decided to quit working (gee....do you think that the fact that the a/c has quit working has anything at all  to do with the fact that he quite recently treated his car as if he were in demolition derby?  [Speaking of which, thanks to my Twitter-peeps who so readily supplied the word "demolition" when my brain up and died earlier today!  Which reminds me, have you seen the newest study which says that Google is changing the way, and what exactly, our brains remember, which is, basically, only stuff we can't find online?  Very interesting!  And, just so you know, this is now my go-to excuse when I can't remember something as easy as the word "demolition."]).

So, off he goes, with a kiss and reminders to 1) to be home at a reasonable hour 2) not wreck my car 3) no drinking or drugs and 4) no sex.  (See?  I AM a good mother!)

Needless to say, I was quite puzzled when I went out to leave for work this morning and found this

in my backseat; because I knew that I hadn't put it there.  So I did what any modern mother would do.

I texted him from the driveway.

I figured if I didn't do it right then and there I'd forget to ask about it (much like I did when I realized my Amy Winehouse cd was missing last weekend - both guys claim they do not have it; but since it's not in my car I feel sure that one of them stole it - even if they won't admit to it).

Surprisingly, the boy actually answered my text as I was pulling into work.  I had figured it would be noon before I heard from him; as that has been his usual time to wake up so far this summer; but, apparently, today he decided to get up early and go to the morning football practice.

And finally, the reason for the title of this post....

He figured if the guys wanted to go to this other sports bar/restaurant they like to go to where they ogle women play darts he would want his own darts.  BUT he didn't feel like pulling all (what? Four, five, six; at the most) of them out.  Instead, he just took the whole damn board; because that was "easier."

*sigh*

It's things like *this* that is turning me into a grouchy old lady before my time.....and most likely ticking off the Breast Cancer Awareness crowd to no end

The other day, I received a bill for a recent mammogram.  I was more than a little surprised, because usually, I don't receive bills for healthcare as the doctor's office always files the claim for me.

So I made some sort of joke to Hubby along the lines of if they want to get payment out of me then they'll have to repossess these things.

The very next day, I received my Explanation of Benefits (which is usually a letter telling me what the insurance company has paid for, etc. - basically a receipt).  Upon opening it, I discovered that they had denied my claim for the yearly mammogram....

To the tune of $257.00!

Needless to say, I was not too happy.  But figured there HAD to be some kind of mistake.  Because, my coverage includes PREVENTATIVE care-which is a fancy way of saying "we check you out to keep you from getting sick on us and forcing us to pay even more money for you".  For the past 10 years (yes, I've been here for 10 years - go figure!) it always has.

I figured a quick call to the insurance company the next day would clear everything up and between us all; the doctor's office and myself at least, we'd all be happy and well, the insurance company?  They would be out $257.00.  What the hell.  I'm paying into the insurance, aren't I?  They are getting my money no matter what - in the hopes that I don't NEED their coverage for anything significant.

After my "quick" call to the insurance company yesterday (which, of course, was NOT so quick - thanks to the invention of "voice activated menus" which NEVER hears what you are saying properly.  Which, of course, leads to you yelling your private business into the phone for everyone to hear) I was in tears.

Apparently, without our knowledge, the coverage now only includes a bi-annual mammogram for women of a certain age.  Over 50?  Great!  THEN they will cover yearly testing.

WTF?!?!?

It is apparent that no one has informed my doctor's office of this significant change - since they are the ones that sent the letter nagging me to get in.  Nor did they inform the insurance department that also sends nagging letters to remind us of appointments we'd rather not do - but deem a necessity - as I seem to recall getting one from them telling me to go in.  Nor did they properly inform the employees of this company of this SIGNIFICANT change to our coverage - since not one person I have talked to about this knew anything about it.

Lucky for the few I told about this change - at least they won't get dinged unexpectedly.

For years (basically for as long as I can remember), we have been told the importance of getting a yearly mammogram after the age of 40.  Period.

It has been ingrained into our very souls that "early detection" is the key to survival.

Now?  Now apparently, they would prefer that we get sick before we get diagnosed.

And that?  Well, that disgusts me even more than the thought of handing over $257.00.

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And, yes.  I AM aware that lately this blog has turned into a huge "bitch-fest."  With any luck, things will change soon and I will go back to my regularly (HA! Yeah, right.  As if anything about me can be considered "regular") scheduled ramblings about nothing.

Sometimes You Just Can't Find the Words You Need

Exactly what do you say in a condolence card?

Especially one that needs to go to a very special aunt who has lost her son in a horrific way?

How do you tell her that you feel the pain she is feeling?  Not on her level, of course.  Unless you have experienced that particular pain you cannot possibly even begin to imagine how she feels.

My cousin was killed approximately two weeks ago.  I just found out about it less than a week ago.  I don't think I have still completely processed it.  I have a feeling that whomever was ultimately responsible will not walk away with a "murder" charge - but with one of those lesser charges like manslaughter or something equally irrelevant.

The end result is that he is gone.  At 38.  At the hands of someone else.

And that my dear aunt; the one who has told me consistently that I am really her daughter and that my mother stole me from her at birth, is broken.

Completely and totally broken.

I can't even begin to imagine.

The very thought of having Man-Child taken from me - in any way, violent or not - takes my breath away and leaves me sick and shaken.

And so I sit, speechless for once, unable to express my sorrow to her.  Unable to soothe the pain she must be feeling.  Unable to be with her and hold her in this time of immense need.  To know that her son is gone.  Forever.

His life; taken by another.  To know that his last day on this earth was such a difficult and violent one.  To have it played out, in detail, over and over again on the news and in the ethernet.

I look at the pictures of his life of late and can only remember the blond curls and the little grin that he had when he was a little guy and I cry.  For the family broken.  The life left unlived.  The young daughter, and other family, left behind - who must, somehow, pick up the pieces and go on; without him.

And once again, I lift my pen to paper to try and express my immense sorrow.  To try and soothe her.  And again, I fail.

Ironing *IS* a dangerous business.....

I've said it all along and no one would listen to me.  After THIS important PSA maybe someone will hear the message and stand with me as I call for a ban on ironing forevermore......



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Thank you all for your words, thoughts, prayers and well wishes when I had my most recent melt-down.  Your support means more to me than you will ever know. xx

The State of Gigi...and a book review, of sorts

I should be posting about some of the fabulous books I've just read; like What the Night Knows by Dean Koontz or Mothers & Other Liars by Amy Bourett.....both of which were FABULOUS by the the way - or that other one that I read and can't quite remember the name of....it was quite funny though.

But I'm not posting about the books I've read.  Mainly, because I've already returned them to the library and don't have them around for reference (hence, why I'm leaving off the name for that other one) and because I've got too much other stuff floating around in my mind and, truth be told, only read to keep from obsessively thinking/worrying for a bit - and it worked, for a moment.  But I will add them to the Books I Love tab - even without the reviews - simply because I really did enjoy them and hope you will too.  Except for the one I forgot.  That one will have to languish alone on a bookshelf until I come across it again.  And I will come across it again.  Eventually.  I always seem to.

No, lately I've been more and more in total meltdown, panic mode.

That is the real reason I've been avoiding my friends  (and possibly, a lot of you, too) (I would also totally avoid my guys too, if I could - but dammit, they are ALWAYS here!).  I wrote about it here - oh wait, never-mind.  I never posted that.....obviously, because I was in total meltdown, panic mode.

See, those darling girls of mine want to go out and celebrate.  They want to have fun, spend some time together and celebrate me.  Sounds wonderful; doesn't it?

But me?  I'm not in that place right now.  Right now, I'm in a dark place.  A place where I don't want to go out and have fun, celebrate.

Needless to say, the girls are getting a *tad* aggravated with me at this point.  I don't blame them.  But then, due to some horrific news from far-away family (that I'm still trying to process so I can't/won't go into details now) to add on to everything else that is worrying me, I have been given an instant pass.  For the moment.  But these girls?  They won't let up.  I know them too well....

I'm tired, y'all.  Very, very tired.  And frozen.  Frozen from the fear and the panic.

You know how "they" say, "don't sweat the small stuff?"  Well, I have to wonder exactly what IS considered small?  Because lately, it seems like all the stuff I am facing isn't small.  It's GINORMOUS!

So in conclusion, to this very ramble-y post that does nothing but tell you about great books and the state of my mind....

Keep my dad in your thoughts and prayers as he is headed for surgery early, early tomorrow morning.  And I can't be there - because I'm here.  And that, of course, worries me.

You only *think* you know...

Today, a friend and I were chatting about our kids.  You know, as mothers tend to do.

When she suddenly blurted out that she wished she was in my shoes.

(Ummm... no not really.  What with the whole friends going through a divorce, the dad facing heart surgery - and me trying to figure out how to convince him to come here [a whole 'nother story], the unemployment....the list goes on)

She was talking about the fact that at this time next year I will be preparing to send my baby, my ONLY CHILD, off to college.

At first I was incredulous - because she had recently just saw her oldest son off to Iraq (or was it Afghanistan? I forget.  Either way, to a dangerous place).

As she went on and on about how quiet my house would be; how clean it would be (obviously she forgot about Hubby); how I could do anything I wanted - the list went on forever - it dawned on me....

She has two younger children; one who will just be entering high school this year and another in middle school.

She is still smack-dab in the middle of parenting.  She is far, far, FAR removed from the empty-nest syndrome.

She has yet to actually realize that one day she will look up from her pile of laundry and be hit; face first; with that OMG! moment when she discovers - it's just going to be "us"!  You know, the people we used to be.

Which then brings to mind the questions.....

What are we going to do without driving this one somewhere and back again because the other parent flaked out?  What will we do without having to nag someone to do their homework, their class project, to put their dishes in the dishwasher and, DAMMIT!, pick up your socks!  What will we do at night without having one of us wait up for him to come home - safe and sober?  How will we react without having some kind of teenage drama going on ALL THE TIME?


How will we survive in a house that doesn't have that constant "buzz" that it seems to have when he's in it?


What will we have to TALK about once the last (or only) child is gone from the house?


There are many more questions that float in your brain - many, many more - as you try to prepare to wrap your mind around the fact that the one (or third, or fifth, or whatever - it doesn't matter - your LAST) core being that made you into a little family - instead of a couple - is leaving.  Perhaps forever.

And she?  Well, she's just not there yet.

But when she is, I'll be ready to hold her as she cries.

Sssshh!

Do you hear that??

That infernal pinging and ringing from phone calls, emails, and texts coming from the Blackberry?  It's been going on all darn day.

DON'T answer it!

Why?  Because I'm hiding.

Yes, I'm hiding from lovely friends with good intentions.

If the truth were to be told, I've been hiding from the majority of them for months now....

Actually, it is a constant source of amazement to me that I haven't been hiding (too much, I don't think) from you.  Sure, I've pulled back a bit and don't tell you everything that is on my mind....but for the most part, you know where I'm at; what a state my mind has been in lately.

The few times I've run into them, the lovely friends with good intentions, they've seen the "happy, everything is ok", Gigi.  La-la-la-la.

And just how do you make these lovely friends with good intentions understand that you don't want to come out and play?  Or celebrate.  Because right this very minute, as far as you ("you" being me for the remainder of this post-lest you [no, YOU] get confused) are concerned this isn't the time to go play.  There is nothing to celebrate. You have far too much to worry about for that kind of fluff.

Then the guilt begins to kick in - because ya know?  They DO have good intentions.....but still.....

So what do you do?  You begin to seriously contemplate "accidentally" dropping the phone into the toilet.

You know...so you can be totally incommunicado.....darn it! Sssh!  It's going off again!

He's still available to the first one willing to take him.....

We are a board game family.....and by that I mean Man-Child and I are board game lovers.  Hubby?  Well, apparently, he grew up in a disadvantaged family.

And by that I mean he wasn't taught the appreciation of a good board game.

One of our favorites is Scrabble.

I first taught the child to play before he was really even old enough - I think he was still learning "sight words" at the time....

My reasoning was that he would learn to spell, garner a good vocabulary and it might help with his math skills; plus it was something to do in "that" hour right before bedtime.

Some of those early games were painful.  As a small child he didn't take losing gracefully.  And I had to learn to rein in my competitiveness and try to "teach" while playing.

Over the years it has evolved into a cut-throat game.....as only Scrabble can.

As evidenced by one of my Tweets last night....

Along with the accompanying picture.  Notice that he's really concentrating....that's because I trounced him but good a few nights ago.

We were only about six moves in.  I had crappy letters, but was holding my own; I was sure that I would make a sweeping victory before the game was over.....

And then?

He pounced....

Note his glee

As you will note from the following tweets - it wasn't pretty....

As you can imagine, the game was over at that point.  There was no recovering from a blow that crushing.

Then the crowing and taunting began.....

Which was followed with him sucking up and telling me that he learned from the best - yeah, it's too late now, buddy.  I've already listed you on eBay.

The killer word?  Well, I'm glad you asked.  Because although I was in total shock, I am STILL a mom and HAD to record the moment for posterity....it's like a law or something.....

Even so, if you are willing to take him and feed him - he's all yours.  Especially considering he is refusing to remove the board and "the" word.