Weed-eat me.

Yesterday while standing in Wal mart, I surveyed the 35 different weed eaters to choose from.

At first, I calmly read through the titles. And I separated Gas from Electric.

Okay.

Easy Enough.

I smiled and moved in closer.

20Volts, 3.6 AMP,13 inch 4AMP string

17 22cc 2 cycle gas

curved shafts....(that just made me think of penises.)

Straight shafts ...Okay anything with the word shafts in it makes me think of penises, I cannot lie.

There were ones with attachments and ones with tanks.

There were orange ones and green ones....there were no pink ones.

I growled because I all of a sudden hated weed eaters. I stomped my foot because I wanted to kick one of them.

I pulled out my phone. I needed a boy.

My first instinct was to call my ex-husband, but I think that the time allowed for that is expired. It has been 5 years since our divorce, and plus I knew he would not be awake at 8 am

I then called Jesse...who is Dawns boy and so by proxy he is mine.
He did not answer.
 I stuck my tongue at his face on my phone and ended the call.

I texted Brandee, who could ask Mandy. But they were asleep.

I called Stephen Francis who MIGHT be helpful, but he did not answer either.

I sighed and looked down at my phone. I need to get more handy friends who are boys.

I texted Juan, but alas...nothing. He was probably running, chasing his wife with a hairy carrot or plotting revenge against me.

One of those.

I sighed and looked up. and up and up...The boxes blurred together. There was a little Asian man walking in front of the boxes. "Which one of these are you buying and why?" I asked him.

"I was waiting until you took one."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know."

"Dammit"

The  Wal-Mart Lady stared at me from behind the checkout. "Do you know?" She shook her head at shrugged her shoulders.

 I hated her right then.

I wanted to just buy the most expensive one, because that means it is the best right? I reached forward to grab it.

 "Do you need help?" a man asked from the left of me.

"YAY!" I exclaimed and turned to face him. "Could you tell that I needed help from across the store?"

"Well. You look like my wife does when she stands in front of anything like this. And I heard you on your phone muttering about Pequino douchebag nerdy lesbians."

"Nono. Those are my friends! I was calling for help....

Pequino, Douche, Nerdy and....anyways...

I'm not a good friend I think."

He laughed and I felt like I was standing on top of a mountain, that this man was swathed in robes and his head was shaved. "Which should I buy oh wise one."

"Okay. Which do you prefer Gas or electric."

"I dunno." I shrugged

"Are you going to want to go get gas in a gas tank and mix it with oil?"

"Ew."

"So electric." He moved over to a selection. "Do you prefer curved or straight?"

I bit my lip.

I bit my lip because I was swallowing inappropriate words.

I bit my lip because I wanted to say "Curved and to the left" But I didn't...I DIDN'T.

"I don't know...what do you have. Curved or straight?"

He laughed. I gasped.

He opened his mouth to answer.

And then he bit his lip.

I blurted out..."I just want one that will eat my weeds. I want one that is easy to operate and that is not too hard to put together."

"Okay."

"And I want it to eat it like it means it too. No pansy weed eater."

He pulled out a box and handed it to me. "This one will do ya"

"YAY! You are a gentleman and a scholar." and I plopped the box under my arm.

.......

When I got home I handed the box off to Shane. "Here boy. Put this together so that I can go forth and eat weeds."

"Okay. Get me a screwdriver."

"Oh fuck." I whispered...or shouted....

He laughed.

"Do you NEED one?"

"Yes mom. It is kind of hard to put this thing on without it."

"But is that thing really necessary? "

My son stared at me, and if his stare could talk it would have said "You are a dumbass. But you are cute."

I know that I am 35 years old. But I will tell you that I MAY have melted to the ground in slow motion. I also MAY have thrown a fit, which included screaming and flailing.

My son MAY have ignored me until I was done and then in a bored voice said "We still need a screwdiver."

I found one, but it was the wrong one. I cursed.

I snorted.

I tried a butter knife, some scissors and a credit card.

I dug in every drawer in my house.

I found some candles that look like sandles, extra batteries and three pairs of rainbow earrings.

And then I found one.

I chortled with glee. Screwed the fucking screw in and went outside.  started the weedeater and my neighbor stopped me by waving. "Are you sure that you want to weed eat in a skirt and a tank top Laurie?"

I looked down at my hot pink tanktop and lowered my sunglasses back down. "I know that I have to do boy things, LIZ, but I can at least look cute doing them."

And I started my machine, and ate me some fucking weeds.

Home.

We're not supposed to be prideful I think,
But it is incredibly hard not to be, when your son is as amazing as mine is.

When I was his age, I had him and who really knows what kind of a parent you will be. You can say whatever you like BEFORE you are a parent, but the fact is,,,shit changes. All of a sudden you are responsible for the care and character of another human being.

I was born, was raised and lived in a chaotic life. It was crazy. People fought always, I do not remember people laughing, unless it was at anothers expense and the only time that I relaxed was when my nose was shoved inside of a book.

After Shane slipped from my body, I knew only that I had ONE sure thing in life, and that was him.
I remember sitting on my grandmothers tweed couch breastfeeding him. My finger smoothed over his cheek, so slowly. My body was tired, my hair was unwashed and as he stared into my eyes with complete love and unbridled trust I whispered "I don't know what I am doing. I don't know what I am going to do. But I promise that I will always love you."

He fell asleep right then. And I took that as a sign of agreement.

I wanted to give him everything wonderful in life. And for me that started with our home. As a child, I never felt safe in mine. It was never the place that I wanted to be. It was never fun. There was no music, nobody danced and at night when I fell asleep, I couldn't wait to wake up one day older...one day closer to making my own home.

Our first home was a studio of sorts. It was there that Shane learned to walk in his sturdy white walking shoes. It was also the first time that he fell down, and whispered "God dammit!"

I was so happy that our TV tuned into sesame street, because we couldn't afford cable.

There we planted our first garden and took walks to the park. When fall came I walked him around our neighborhood and pointed out the first signs of autumn. Collecting leaves along the way.

Our second home was in Sacramento. It was an apartment and Shane had his own room. He would line up all of his hot wheel cars and we would play them for hours.

This is the home where I looked at him in his eyes and said "Is mommy a cow?"
"No. You're my mommy."
"Then I'm done breastfeeding you. No more NighNigh okay?I'm sorry but you are practically driving."
"Okay momma"
He was 2, and that was that.


That is where he discovered his love of Nintendo. We would smooth out a blanket on the floor and he would sit there most of the day watching me play Mario 64 until one day while I pee'd he picked up the controller and made Mario Jump.

For the next day and a half I sat next to him and showed him how to use the controller.
He was 2 years and 5 months old, and that was that.

Our next home was another apartment. This is where he dressed up as a teletubbie for Halloween. We had many neighborhood water balloon fights and BBQ's.

When we moved back to Modesto we moved here. Only in the back house. It was insanely small and at the time I demanded from my then husband "I will ONLY stay here a year. That's it."

We ended up living in the back house for 3 years until we had this one built. It had a huge expanse of yard, and has seen an insane amount of food fights, ridiculous kids birthday parties (Wizard of oz complete with a witch on top of the house...I mean comeon.)

In this home Shane started kindergarten

We've lived in this house for 11 years.
Shane has started Kindergarten and will end high school with the same address.
I know that I have made many MANY mistakes in his life (so far) But I am so proud of the man that he has become.

I feel like we are standing on the edge of amazing. There are so many moments in his life yet to come. Both happy ones and some filled with grief. I hope he knows that no matter where he is and where I am in this life (and the next) He is and always will be my home.

VD.

Tonight a million men are getting blowjobs because they remembered to send their wife some flowers. I think it is amazing actually. (Both the BJ's and the flowers.)

People say that Valentines Day is a day for women. I disagree. It is a day for men to hack down living plants and receive a *Hand job in return.

Or maybe it is a day designed by Gyms. So that after you inhale copious amounts of chocolate, wine  (semen?)  you can feel the guilt the NEXT day, join a gym and cuss out your husband/wife/lover/dog/boss/ for wanting to keep you fat.

The reason that I love Valentines Day, is because it is a day to reflect on the people in your life that you DO love. Who have changed your life, even if it is in a small way, and whom you LOVE.

Things I love.

1. I love My son. Sometimes I do not love the smells that he produces, but in some small way. I am responsible for that I am sure.

2. I love my daughter. Because she is funny, wise and almost always right.

3. I love Tater Tots. SO much so, that I JUST had to walk slowly to Karmas food bowl and deposit a plate full of them inside of it. Otherwise I would stuff them into every orifice that I own.

4. I love Valentines. The card ones in the envelopes. I love the sound the envelopes make when you rip them open.

5. I love that the ladies at work wore bright pink bras today.

6. I love that Karma is laying at my feet, and she smells good, which is new.

7. I love my job. It is happy THE END.

8. I love my walks everyday and the fact that when I chased the beast who mooshed cupcake into my face, my fat flapped less.

9. I love all of my tiny Valentines. They are small and boogery.

10. I loved all of my extra Valentine squishes today. (They were extra sticky)

11. I love that my fish eat pancakes.

12. I love that NicosValentine said that I was his HERO and that Juan was just Heroic. (That makes me better)

13. I love the look on someone's face when gifts are delivered to them in surprise. And even though it annoys a lot of people, I LOVE looking at all of the gifts bestowed upon my friends via Facebook.

14. I love sitting in the sand with all of the children at work and building sandcastles...or used car lots...what have you. I can't wait for it, and I don't care what I am wearing. If you are grumpy tomorrow...find a sandbox, sit in it and dig. It is good for you.



I hope that your Valentines Day was filled with love, and that it came to you from a giggle, a rose or a friendship.

I hope that if this day found you sad or depressed, you can look around at...ANYTHING...and find the beauty inside of it. I hope that a million men are grinning because their wifes/husbands/lovers felt like a chopped down rose, a heartbox of candy, or a best friend delivered over the states...deserved a swallow.

And tomorrow, when it is ONLY February 15th, (The day of the grinning couples)if you find yourself grumpy, or down in the dumps, you can find a nice warm box of sand to dig into.

Midnight Memory.

I hear tap...tap...tap...against the side of my house.

The wind is blowing, I tell myself, and I roll over and sink deeper into my comforter.

Tap...Tap..Taptaptap....        Tap...Tap...taptaptap...

My eyes fly open and in the night, I can see Karma, lit by my too late Christmas Tree. Her eyes are open. And her head is cocked to the left.

The taps are in perfect Cadence to a dance once danced. A new dance. One that you had to learn.
Who does not know how to dance?

You did not.


We stood in your entry way. A look of horror on your face as I demanded you listen to my expertise. I sang out loud with the tapping of my heels. "Tap..Tap ..TAPTAPTAP!" and I made you whisper "2..3..4"

The marble was polished so high that you could see a reflection of us in it.

Me being bossy...and you hating that I was.
You hating that I pushed you around the floor TEACHING something that you did not know. You were always uncomfortable there.

Not knowing something.


"Tap..Tap...TapTapTap!" I announced.

You stared at me. Your lips pursed, shoulders tight....Fucking pissed off.

"Now you!" I stomp my foot and push at your stiff body. "Tap..Tap..TapTapTap! I'm saying!"

"I hear you." 

"Fine. Look like a douche."

"Don't say that. Ladies don't say things like that."

I snort and lean down to pick up my bag. "You're so caveman-ish. It is 2009. I can say what I wish. Maybe I am no a lady. Maybe I am...just a woman and you are JUST a grumpy man....who cannot dance. Plus...will look like a douche."

"Fine. If I say it will you stop talking like that?"

"nope." I smile up at and ingest him.

 Black leather shoes whipped up to a shine. Perfectly tailored suit, a red ruby gem of a tie.
                                                           Silk. Red. Yum.
All topped with delicious curls that try to be tamed. They do their very best.
But fail.
They fail miserably. But I wont let him chop them yet.


I stare at them and he growls. And reaches for my hands. "Stoppit."

"I DIDN'T EVEN SAY ANYTHING!" I huff and move my body with his.
Now I'm pissed off. Now my shoulders are tight.


"...2...3...4..." He whispers, leans down and says into my hair "You don't have to say anything. Your eyes can fuck me from across the room."

I stop dancing.

I snort.

He grabs be again, forcibly this time. "And don't shout. Ladies do not shout.....ever."

My head is thrown back and I laugh. I laugh and I snort and I hiccup. Tears squeeze out from beneath my eye. Mascara runs down my face and still.... I laugh until I am hunched over from it.
My body heaving and he is laughing with me....




And they come again.

TAP...TAP...TAPTAPTAP

"2..3..4.." I whisper.


TAP...TAP...TAPTAPTAP...

"2..3..4.."

Karma is standing now. Her tail is wagging and it scares me.

I whisper to her "It is just the potato bushes. They are dancing for us." I pull her down beside me and bury my face into her fur. I shake the memories from my brain and sigh back into sleep.

Silence fills the wall...and my house. Karma huffs once, and rolls to the left. Sighing as well and giving up my ghost.

My body lightens and my eyelids become heavy once more.

Nothing more is tapped against the wall, And I smile and decide it was a dream of rememberance. One of happy and laughing and smiles..So I smile and sink into sleep.

The clock ticks. Softly from the living room, it's movements flick each eyelid.

Quietly now, once more it comes, tap...tap...taptaptap... and then no more.

Mirror Mirror...

Every morning while I do my makeup or my hair, I usually sing a little. Sometimes I dance a little...but MOSTLY I think.

About my day to come.

The days that have past.

Penises....

Or the amazing way may hair flips over to hide the greys.

THIS Morning however I thought of random questions. Questions that no matter where I look, I could not find a person to tell me the answers.

Questions like these:

It is said that if you put hemorroid cream around your eyes, it will tighten the skin there. So...what if you stuffed some in your vagina. (The cream not the tube) Would it tighten it? I am so curious.

How about cucumbers. They are supposed to hydrate the eyes as well.....so does that mean that they could hydrate other places? Do vaginas need to be hydrated? What about feet? Feet are dry sometimes.

 What about aprocot scrub. I use it religiously on my face. What about butt pimples? Should I scrub my hind end with the scrub of an apricot. What IS the scrub of an apricot?

COULD I find someone who would do try these things and tell me. Because I will not. My Vag is strictly prohibited to anything other then three select items. And cucumbers and asshole gel are not on the list.

I wonder if I could put an ad out on Craigslist and pay some one 20 bucks to try it.

Wake up.

Every morning I awake at 5:00, brew up some coffee and check my facebook while my eyes try to slam open and get ready for the new day.

This morning I hit my snooze button, which....I never EVER do.

I am not ashamed dear readers, to admit to you, the fact that I still have my happy cuppycake christmas tree standing on my bedside table.

Why?

Simply because Emma and I just were not ready to give it up. I have to say that the twinkly lights both make me happy, and serve as an UBER happy nightlight.

So at 5:10 am I jump out of bed...And by jump, what I mean is...I creak. But whatever, don't judge me.

I pee, brew coffee and head to the shower.

Between the pee and the coffee, I have started the dishes and then walked away because I forgot that I was doing them.
I plugged in my MP3 player and left it dangling off of my computer desk.
I let Karma outside to pee someplace that is not my house.

Today I am running late because of the fucking snooze.

I head out the door showered and zipped in my blue hoodie by 5:50.

I start my car up, (it squeals because it is so cold.) I mutter an apology to my neighbors, but it is halfhearted, since most of them have been up for 3 days straight....and head down the road with my body hunched all of the way in the passenger side because that is the only part of the windshield that I can see properly out of.

I pull up to Brandees at 6:05 and I meet her at her door. We do not talk. It is too early.

She smiles and I have to pee...AGAIN. I do so and her dog follows me into the bathroom. I greet her (Because she is my favorite) and she stuffs her head into my underwear while I pee. "Tinky! That is SO RUDE!" I say and she backs up. But not for 15 seconds.

We head out the door and walk with out ears stuffed full of music. From what I can tell, Brandee listens to a lot of old school and Fergie.

 I listen to Eminem, NIN and Tupac.

At the bottom of the hill, she snaps a picture of us both. We smile. I am wearing the chewbacca hat that Dinga gave me, and she is adorned in the rainbow sock monkey hat that Deanna gifted me with at Christmas time.
We don't usually where hats, but it is fucking freezing that early.

We point our water bottles at the top of the hill and away we go.

Today we see alot of men.

Men walking together, chatting about who knows what. I'm so curious that I want to follow them just to listen.

We see joggers without monkeys and chewbaccas on their heads. They smile at us.

We see a man walking with a newspaper, and Im confused but we keep walking.

When I change my music I can hear Brandee singing to funky comadina. (or whatever the fuck that song is)

 I smile. And flinch when a biker spins past.

Usually I can just walk and nod. But if perchance Tupac comes on, I cannot help it.
I try.

I reaaaaaally Try.

But I fail every time and spew out the lyrics to ONLY GOD CAN JUDGE ME.

I cannot help it.

I may be a honky, but I love Tupac.

And if Limp Bizkit comes on, forget about it. Not only will I sing, but I have to dance too.

While I walk I think about what is going on that day. I laugh at Brandee dancing and I watch the world wake up.

The moment.

"I CANNOT find the color I am looking for!" Brandee sighed under her breath.
It was a lady like sigh, and not like the ones that I do where there is a slight whining involved and a sort of epileptic movement.

"Let's look again."

I move to stand beside her and survey the array of hair color. I am looking for a bigger package, since she wants highlights.

Down and to the left we found it. It took 5 seconds by the way.)

We turned to survey the makeup isles. The shelves were ridiculously bare. Mandy kept coming up to us and offering Brandee different shades of eyeshadows.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and an incredibly short, INCREDIBLY pregnant woman stood there.

"Hello." she said in a very soft voice. "My children used to go...I don't know if you remember us..."

"Foofy!" I said

She smiled. "YES!"

Foofy's name, of course was NOT foofy. It was a nickname for a child that could not say anything other then "Foof" when we met him.

Dawn named him foofy, and quite like the name she named ME (Beanie) It stuck.

The first time I saw him, he was in the toddler room at KinderCare, and I worked in the Two's room. I would notice him sitting by himself and staring off into space.

Each day I would watch him.

He interested me.

At this time, I had only been working at Kinder care for maybe 6 months. During one of my breaks I opened the door and called out his name.

He did not react.

I picked up a hardbound book and threw it at his feet.

He did not react.

I crawled across the floor and lay down in front of him. I whispered his name, I said his name, I sung his name.

He did not react.

The teacher who was in the room with him, told me "He will never do anything." in a very negative voice.

I picked him up and he turned his head.
His body was still against my hands. I lifted him up over my head and his eyes connected with mine.

He smiled.

"There you are." I whispered to him, and I fell in love.

I would visit him often until he finally became a part of my classroom. Brandee was with me by that time, and we enjoyed teaching Foofy how to color.

OKAY. We tried to teach him how to color, but he would rather climb the beds and lay on the very very top one.
He would move his hand between the beds and watch everything from there. (He wasn't supposed to be up there, but we would let him stay up there as long as we could.)

Sometimes during art, he would steal a pencap and walk to the wall. He would put the pencap on his finger and move it over the wall. For an hour.

We would sing to him, and he would smile at us. But mostly only when I lifted him above me. That is when we would connect. For a moment.

Brandee and I finally knew we had to approach his mom about his behavior. But how?
Our boss got us the paperwork for Sierra Vista and  they handled the rest. Foofy eventually left our classroom and joined a special school for Autistic Children.

His mom now stands before me and I hug her softly so I dont squish the baby that resides inside of her.

She pulls out her phone and her fingers are shaking. She shows us pictures of him walking in the autism walk, dressed up for halloween and playing baseball last summer.

He looks the same. Just bigger.

He is 7 years old now, and I can hardly believe it.

She is almost in tears as she thanks us for loving her son. That she has never ever forgotten us, and that we changed his life.

"I think of you both often. You made such an impact in our lives.We have put him in so many different schools, but no one was like you. Thank you." Her eyes wetten and her lips tremble as she reaches in for another hug.


And this folks, is the moment.

The moment when your heart fills with pride and love for a child that you have not seen in 5 years. The moment when you realize that loving a child that is not your own, matters greatly.