Kevin Wins Today or Materialism is my Friend

 

Kevin wins today.  He really, really wins.  I must admit that I can make it hard for him to win, so we must give him his due.

Two weeks ago, I threw two parties for about twenty people at each.  (Which is why, if he ever reads this, I bought a kitchen table that seats twelve although he swears we never entertain.)  I did not know exactly who was coming or how many would be there or really what it was all about.  I actually found out about this party he was throwing through my dear friend Anne who was working with him on a project that included said party.  She called to give me a heads up that he volunteered to have a party at our place instead of at a restaurant because it would be cozier. 

When I found out this information about a week before this event was to take place, I said we should get take out and put it in our dishes and lie about who made it.  This did not go over very well.  So we did what we always do which is a BBQ, chips, salad, my sister in law’s fruit salad, and something to drink.  I bought dessert, though.  So I spent two half days and one full day working on this.  The next night was supposed to be another twenty people so I prepared for that as well.  Only two people ended up showing up, but I still put in the effort and it so counts.  (Although when Anne called to tell me only two would be there and she would be one of them, I put the sour cream and salsa back in the containers and started cleaning up the cute serving dishes I had.  There needs to be more than four people before I will dirty dishes when containers will do.)

At the first dinner where there were people, Kevin made announcements and introductions.  When he stated he had it at the lake because he thought it would be easier, I started to choke.  After he was done speaking, I decided to make an announcement.  It went as follows:  “I believe this would be a good time to let everyone know that my favorite jeweler in town is Saunders Jewelry.”

Now most people laughed, knowing exactly whom this announcement was for and the purpose of it.  Kevin continued on with his evening.  I never heard a word about it until a couple of nights ago at 11pm.  I am five minutes from sleep, having wretched my guts out that day, when my loving husband turns to me and says, “Were you serious about Saunders Jewelry?”

My response after a stifled yawn and a stomach gurgle, “It is always nice to get jewelry.”  My thought: "Why would a person make a random comment about a local jeweler to a bunch of strangers from out of town if a person were not serious?"

Well, last night he had a lot of local dental professionals over and he did 75% of it.  He scheduled it without checking with me and so the kids had after school activities and I was sick and I couldn’t spend the day organizing and decorating and setting up.  I think he realized that it actually takes a bit to do this seeing as half the guests showed up before the tables were set up. 

So at 10am, I received a call from a nice gentleman informing me he was from Saunders Jewelry and that I had a credit at the store and to come pick something out.  Of course Kevin gave me a HUGE allowance, knowing that if earrings cost over $20, I have to meditate and possibly medicate except for a few special occasions like giving birth and anniversaries.  This time, however, I did a pretty good job of seeing what I liked and just getting it.  It was 80% less than my “allowance” but more than $20 and I did not feel the need to do a traditional Native Aboriginal Naked Walkabout before buying earrings.  I think it may have something to do with going from the stomach flu to a chest cold that my kids' doctor informed me "runs two weeks, give your family some cough medicine and good luck to you."  Add a nervous breakdown from my eight year old making me feel like a terrible mother, and you can drop a pretty penny at the local jeweler trying to make yourself feel better.

So Kevin wins this week.  Part of me wishes he would just ask before he invites 20 people over for dinner, but I will settle for jewelry.  Does that make me materialistic?

Taking Donations to Buy a Bubble

I woke up Saturday morning wanting to die.  I had some of the worst cramps ever and it only took a couple of hours before everything I had ever eaten in my entire life decided to come back up.  I spent all of Saturday in bed.  Kevin had taken the kids to his parents’ cabin and I had so many things I was going to accomplish.  Instead I waited for the heavens to part and a flock of angels sing me to my rest.

Instead, Kevin came home and I woke up Saturday night again incredibly sick.  Kevin had a bunch of stuff to get done so he suggested he give me a sleeping pill, I sleep until noon and then he would work.  I’m not sure what he gave me, but I woke up fifteen hours later.  Give or take.  I thought I felt ok.  I even ate some trail mix and an apple.  I guess I shouldn’t have, though because I woke up again Sunday night waiting for angels to come because I was pretty sure it was all over.

Today, I got the kids to school and then Seth and I lay around.  I got this blasted thing from him.  He has had an upset stomach for a few days and he has a head cold.  I laced his chocolate milk with Tylenol and he is now out cold half in bed and half on the floor with his shirt off and some granola in his hand.  I need to take the car in and get the flat tire fixed and I need to edit a friend’s book and get prepared for my conference, but I don’t wanna.  I don’t want to sit up right for too long a period.

I may have brought this on myself.  I had wished for some sort of a tapeworm so I could lose weight without doing anything, but in my mind, I just got thinner, I didn’t vomit or spend copious amounts of time in the bathroom.  I also wanted Kevin to appreciate all I do for him, but more while he was missing me while I was at a tropical destination.  I guess if I leave the shower on long enough, the bathroom becomes a humid location, but definitely not tropical.

I just want to know how old you are when your body changes and little sicknesses you had as a kid turn into full blown tsunami’s as adults.  Chicken pox as a kid is mildly irritating but can kill you as an adult.  Stomach flu as a kid means you get as much Sprite as you can drink and you get to watch all your favorite cartoons.  The next day it was though nothing happened.  As an adult, my body aches from working in reverse for 48 hours and making food for my kids makes me want to flee.  I hadn’t been in that much pain in years.  So when does this transformation occur?  I hadn’t had the stomach flu since I was eight so I have no point of reference.  All I know is that if any of my kids get the stomach flu again, they are on their own.  I am not going anywhere near them.  I am not experiencing this weekend ever again.  I think I need to purchase a HAZMAT suit.  It seems that whenever I get what the kids have, it is three times as bad as what they have.  I think my only solution is to never have direct contact with kids under the age of twelve again.  I am going to buy HAZMAT suits in every color and style and just wear those.  I’m surprised no one has thought of this before me.  As soon as I make enough money from this HAZMAT suit fashion trend, I think I will buy a bubble. 

A Communist Plot

 

My cushy life is over.  I used to take my kids to occasional things and if I didn’t want to, I didn’t have to.  But now my son is turning eight.  For LDS families, this is the beginning of lifelong servitude into youth organizations.  But we do so happily.  James will join cub scouts which he will go to every week and his father will help him build bird houses.  Not his mother.  I don’t want the eagle scout pin for mothers.  I will drive James to and from scouts and then his father must take over.  He is the eagle scout.  I am a drop out girl scout.  Highly unqualified.

In addition, we will be working on Faith in God, a goal oriented program to help young kids in our church learn more about the Gospel, take on responsibility, and save the planet.  Accomplishing all the goals will probably be part me, part Kevin, and part James.  Probably a lot me. 

So right now I have joined the parent advisory committee so I will not be surprised by anything the superintendent does again, I am organizing a birthday party, letting Kevin organize a baptism because he wants it in Idaho Falls and I have no clue how to do that, buying James a cub scout shirt and badges and sewing them on – Kevin used to glue them and then was shocked they came off -  trying to organize writing to let an author read and an agent desire, and still feed my kids.  I am doing a very poor job of the latter.  (Is that sentence correct?)

So I got out my “Fix it and Forget it” cookbook.  I thought it was just recipes of different combinations of food you put in the crockpot and walk away.  This is not so.  You actually have to brown the meat sometimes.  What’s that about?  How do you brown a roast?  Why do you brown a roast?  I bought the book thinking it was just throwing stuff in a big pot, turning it on and eating in 6 hours. 

So I bought what I thought would be a moron proof cookbook and once again I don’t understand it.  I just don’t understand cooking.  When I was in school and I didn’t understand something, I dropped the class.  I have tried dropping this class so many times.  I wonder if this is why my children are constantly saying that they don’t eat dinner…  Actually, that is just Katherine.  She does not believe she eats lunch at school.  She has two snacks.  Although she may only eat enough to qualify as a snack, I am trying to convince her that she eats lunch at school and I am only responsible for dinner.  I can’t handle any more responsibility.  I have to find cub scout clothes, figure out how to write a best seller in four weeks, help James have Faith in God, make sure the school district does not go to hell, AND figure out how to brown a stupid roast.  I also have to help James with homework which I failed miserably last week with because he only got 80% on one of his papers.  I can’t do simple addition but I’m supposed to use large, dangerous machinery to make four sides of a large hunk of meat taupe.  It is just too much, I tell you, too much. 

Pretty soon they are going to expect me to cut up the veggies before I put them in the crockpot as well.  It’s a communist plot, I tell ya.  Communist

I Like Big Bows

So I have been trying to figure out what kind of a career I would like to have.  I tried going to school to figure out what I could do, but after going to school something like 23 years, I think I did more elimination of careers rather than deciding on one to stick with.  So I have decided to go to the one place a person can always turn to for truth, acceptance and help: television.

I got on Hulu.com and kept forwarding through the list of television series.  I couldn’t remember half the series on there and the other half I haven’t heard of.  And then there are a few shows I actually watch.  Perhaps I watch too many because there may be a problem with my math.  I went through a list of possible careers.  I ruled out becoming a cop who does stings in high schools until I become a pirate in the Caribbean.  In addition, I have decided not to be a bounty hunter or a member of the A-Team.  Well, to be honest, I haven’t completely ruled out the A-Team.  They will always have a special place in my heart.

What I would really like to be, more than an Olympian or vampire living in a gated community, is a Pawn Star.  (Not to be confused with a porn star.)  I would like to know a bunch of really useless information about a bunch of stuff people bring in because they are desperate for money.  I would then like to sell it to people who don’t really need it and who will sell it once they need money.  I think I would really just like to have a semi-idiotic guy hanging out at my place of business for entertainment purposes.

Ok.  While I have written this, I have been watching the premiere episode of 21 Jump Street and I am realizing just how much I miss early 80’s fashion.  What happened to teenage girls wearing big bows in their hair and guys wearing shorts over their sweats?  It’s also fun watching Johnny Depp’s acting improve.  I’m wondering when he became the Mad Hatter.  I wonder if I start wearing large hair bows and shorts over my sweats, if I will become an eccentric recluse who lives in France.  I think I would really like to live in France.  I hear they like big bows.