I Heart Laurie Notaro

Last week my life was forever altered when Laurie Notaro accepted my friend request on Facebook. For all of the unenlightened. Laurie Notaro is only the most hilarious and fabulous writer in print. She is an artist that paints in dysfunction & insanity. Her stories are guaranteed to make milk shoot out of your nose. She is that funny!

We have established that I love this woman. I worship this woman in a non-stalker-like nonthreatening way. I recently found her on Facebook and sent her a friend request. She accepted my request along with 899 other people. I was still excited. I mean this is Laurie Notaro. My idol! The second that she accepted my request I was tempted to send her a note blathering on and on about how much I love and worship her like the others. Seriously people vomit love and praise on her page daily. Too much of a good thinking might lead to restraining order. If I didn't want to be pegged as a groupie. I needed to start slow. making a comment here and there and blend in with the rest of her faithful flock.

You know me. I am a writer. I write blogs daily that are read by hundreds of people. Yet I find myself re-writing my little one line comments to Laurie four and five times. I also get butterflies. The same kind that I used to get when I talked to my first little boyfriend Jamie Migliorini in the 8th grade. I know that I am being silly, but I just want her to like me. Anyway how can we become best friends if she doesn't even like me. I have this all planned out. First she'll think that my posts are cute and quirky. Then perhaps her interest will be peaked enough to check out my Facebook page. While on the page she will stumble upon a link to my blog. Perhaps she'll take the time out of her hectic fabulous life to read a blog entry or two. Once she reads my witty words she will recognize my comedic genius and know that we are meant to be friends. We'll be like Nicole Ritchie and Paris Hilton before the drama. We'll have idiot girl adventures raising hell all over the country. We'll be like Thelma and Louise, but fat with facial hair.

Okay on second look my plan could be interpreted as slightly creepy. If by slightly creepy you mean seriously creepy. So maybe I am a bit of a crush on her. I don't want to blow this like last time. I have to admit that I contacted Laurie before about a year ago on Myspace. I just launched my blog and sent her a message asking her to read my blog and give me her opinion. I know! I am such a loser. Of course she never wrote back. Now that we are pals on Facebook I pray that she has forgotten about my previous discretion. Or what if my new plan actually works and she is reading this right now? Not now! Not today! Laurie I can explain!

I'm Just A Girl Who Can't Say No

This month I have done a phone'a'thon for the YMCA Reach Out To Youth Campaign, worked a table in front of our local supermarket and at Walmart for the Franklin 4th of July foundation, sorted books for the the Franklin Library Book Sale, volunteered at the Dean College's Children's Festival, and signed up to walk all night long for a Relay For life Team. This doesn't even include the usual stuff that I do as the secretary of the Mom's Club, the New Comer's Club, my two book clubs, and my church.

This is a classic case of a girl who can't say no. Take the 4th of July foundation. I was at my monthly Mom's club meeting and our president mentioned that some moms were having a yard sale to raise money for our town's 4th of July celebration. I like yard sales so I agreed to help. After all I had time to sort through a few boxes of stuff for a good cause. I went to the 4th of July meeting ready to offer a few hours of yard sale help and left as a full member of a fund raising committee. My family doesn't even celebrate the 4th of July in Franklin. We always spend the 4th in Harvard with Dave's family. Why Can't I just say no.

What is wrong with me? Oprah calls my affliction the Disease to Please. Oh wise Oprah. Yes, I have a disease! When people tell me about their causes and I see their passion I get all excited and I want to help. I can't resist signing up. I am a joiner and a band wagon jumper. For me causes are like cookies. I just want to eat one, but I get so excited that before I realize I have eaten a whole box. Then after wards I am sick, regretful, and I riddled with guilty. Sick because I only have so much time to volunteer and I am already spread too thin. Regretful because I am unorganized and a disaster at keeping my calendar. Guilty because I know that their is a 50/50 chance that I'll mess up some important detail of the campaign.

You've worked with people like me before. My friends will confirm all of this. I show up to volunteer on the wrong date, time, or at the wrong location. I forget the tee-shirts for the tee- shirt sale. I bring the tee-shirts to the plant sale and forget my plants. Last year I signed up to host a play date at a local park for the mom's club. I heard that they had fun. I don't know for sure because I was not there. I completely forgot. I always forget. I am the mom who always runs out to the store 15 minutes before the bake sale. Shh don't tell anyone I have a good scam going. I buy cookies at the bakery then put them in a Tupperware container. I break a few spread some crumbs around people have no idea. I have many talents and a heart of gold, but juggling details and commitments isn't one of them.

I have to learn to say no. Oh I have to run Pam is here to drop off stuff for the 4th of July yard sale. While she is here she wants to talk to me about hosting a foreign exchange student.

LOST

When we last left our heroine she was desperately yelling her son's name as she feverishly searched for him at their playground at a huge municipal park.

The park with multiple athletic fields abuts deep forest on 3 sides and a major road on the fourth. Perhaps the most dangerous place in town to lose a 6-year-old. As the mother is about to pass out from stress she remembers that the boy had asked if he could play on the rocks. In the middle of the park. Next to the big rocks is the steep hill where kids go sledding. Thank God. The mom thinks to herself as she take a deep breath realizing that she has been holding her breath.

She buckles in the hysterical toddler only withstanding a few head butts and numbness in both ears. She drives over about 100 yards to the rocks so she can simply pick up the boy and drive home with out having to leave the toddler alone in the car. She gets out of the car and for the first time sees that the harmless rocks have a steep cliff on one side and a thick strip of woods on the other. The rock face goes straight down to sharp rocks below and the woods wrap around the whole football field and feed into a thick Forrest as far as her eyes can see. She yells for the boy. "DYLAN!" then she whistles with her fingers, the family retrieval signal. She waits. Nothing. She repeats and repeats and repeats. She is now wild with fear. She leaves the toddler in the car and runs to the left side of the woods and finds a soccer team practicing on the field.

She asks them if they have seen a little blond boy in a blue striped shirt. A few of the kids say that they know Dylan from school and that they haven't seen him. She imagines the boy lost in the woods crying hysterically for his mother. She pictures the boy's crumpled bloody body laying on a bed of sharp rocks. She pictures a sadistic stranger. Now terrified she is ready and willing to scale the rocks, tear down the Forrest and murder a full sized man with her bare hands. However she is wearing Crocs and she can not leave Alice Alone. Tears run down her face as she calls her husband.

"Dave! Dylan is lost in the woods!"

"What? I can barely hear you. Daylight Boston words? What? Is that Alice? Is she hurt..." She cuts him off. Starts walking away from the car until she can hear him clearly.

"What? Alice? No! Dylan! He's gone! You have to come to the big park. I am calling 911, Life Flight, and the Green Berets!" Her anxiety has her walking briskly forgetting about the toddler. Her mind is painting horrible pictures. "When you come bring my hiking boots and a machete. If I have to tear down every damn tree to find my boy then be it..." Her husband cuts her off and speaks softly in his calmest voice.

"I am coming right now. Before you call anyone go back over to the playground park and just double check.

She tries to stop her imagination long enough to focus on his words. She squints and tried to focus on the park She sees the kids at the playground in the distance. She thinks that she sees a few kids with blond hair. She starts jogging. She sees a blond kid. He is on top the slide. He has a blue striped shirt on.

"Wait! I think I see him." She begins to run dropping the cell phone. She hears someone screaming "DYLAN! DYLAN!" People are staring up at her and she realizes that the words are coming from her mouth. "D-Y-L-A-N!" Her voice could blow down trees like a hurricane. The blond boy finally slides down the slide and runs over.

"Awe mom. Are we leaving?" She throws her arms around him squeezing him so tight that he starts to wheeze. She is crying like a baby and he is suffocating in her love. In a few minutes he is free, and they are looking for the cell phone, he admits to hiding from her because he didn't want to leave. She threatens his life if he ever does that again. They walk back to the car holding hands. They find that the toddler has survived and is quietly looking at her books in the back seat of the car. Call of the troops.

Just another day in paradise. :)

911

Someday am I going to laugh about all of this. I look over at Alice she is laying on the concrete hugging her pink soccer ball. My daughter is having a nuclear melt down and I don't even know why. I look over at her, her lone pink sparkling shoe is dangling from her foot. I love this park. This park is great for Alice's tantrums. I can sit close enough to see her and yet be a safe distance away from the ear splitting screams. Alice cries in the key of Migraine. The child's cry is like red hot oil being poured into your ears. After a few minutes my brain becomes damaged and my hands begin to shake. If I get enough distance between us the cry becomes simply noise. I wish that I could make the other mother's understand what this child's screaming does to me. Since she began her tirade the other park noises have froze. The other moms are sitting like statues. Some staring at Alice some staring at me.

They look at her and wonder. Is she okay? Did she trip and fall? She is screaming so loudly. She must be hurt badly. What is wrong with her mother? Horrible woman! Maybe I should call 911?

The ones staring at me think. How can she leave her daughter crying on the ground? Obviously the child has life threatening injuries! The mother must be a monster. Maybe I should call the police. No, I have a better idea. I'll give her mean looks.

The moms scowl at me and shake their heads. Oh they are so lucky to be such perfect people. I am so unworthy to keep such company...Wait. Do you hear that? The crying has stopped. Should I go over there and check her pulse? Oh, now, she is moving. She's picked herself up and is hobbling over to the bench where I am sitting. She is wearing one shoe she carried the mate and the soccer ball.

"Momma. I go now." She says her dirty face streaked with tears.

"Honey, is that why you were crying? You want to go home?"

"No!" She screams. "I no go home! I go Disney."

"Oh. You would like to go to Disney World?" I ask with out laughing. "Right now?"

"YES!" Disney world? Why was she? Why would she? Deep breath....I am so tired....

"No honey, we can't go today."

"Oh..." She signs and hands me the shoe. and the soccer ball. "I go home?" I want to go home so bad that I have the child in the car with in 5 seconds. I yelled for Dylan but he is no where to be found. A horrible feeling strikes me and the hair on the back of my neck tingles. Maybe I should call 911

Continued Tomorrow...

Show Me Your Guns

You know me. I am a peace loving tree hugging hippy-love child. I actually am an authentic 1960's hippy love child. I'll save that for another blog. I hate violence of all kinds. When I think of the lives lost in Iraq and Afghanistan I just cry. I hate violence and I hate weapons. When I was young I swore that I would never own a gun or have one in my house not even toy ones.

I am a hypocrite, but you already knew that. I married a man who not only owns multiple guns, he is passionate about guns, he loves guns. He is in a antique gun collectors club and owns hundreds of books about guns. He is even a member of the NRA. I know my personal husband the shame! Whats worse is that since we are married I own half of his stuff so in theory I own guns as well. I am a gun owner, me pacifist peace loving Lydia. I would have guessed that I would own a size 4 string bikini before I would ever own a gun. If I was you I wouldn't believe this either. But this is the truth.

Mind you my husband collects antique guns. Muskets from the civil war. Guns so old that the if kids ever wanted to mistakenly shoot themselves they would have to conduct extensive research. If they ever stayed interested long enough to learn how to shoot the guns then they would need to go out to antique shops to find wadding, gunpowder, and musket balls. I am not worried. My kids could never stay focused long enough to shot themselves. The worst case scenario is that they might hit each other using the guns like bats. However then Dave would kill them with his bare hands. That' why we keep them locked in the basement. Because I hate violence.

Priceless Jewels Lost

Today tragedy struck as princess Alice the sitting princess and heir to the royal throne lost the famous Necklace Ariel. The necklace named for the fiery red ruby decorations is the most precious piece in the royal collection. Upon waking the queen heard young Princess Alice in the throws of hysteria. The queen ran down the hall to the princesses chamber to find her screeching and screaming. "Necklace! I lost my princess necklace. My necklace gone!"

The queen of course asks the princess the last place in the palace that she had the necklace. To which the princess responds.

"Gone, oh no! It gooooone Momma Goooone!" and throws herself down on the floor. The queen tries to comfort her daughter but with out coffee the queen barely has a pulse. The queen looks upstairs and down stairs. She looks every where. See decides that in order to launch a proper search that she must be at her best and since that is not going to happen this morning she settles for conscious. She goes down stairs to get coffee when she bumps into the king. The king reviles that the princess had the necklace in her hand earlier that morning.

The princess somehow cries herself down the stairs and flopped on the kitchen floor whaling. "Oh necklace! You gone forever!"

The queen looks down at her sad daughter and says. "Daddy said that you had it in your hand this morning." The princess looks in her empty hands and screams.

"It not in my hand!"

"Well Sweety, you had it 20 minutes ago do you know where it is?"

"It goooone!" She yells and transforms in to a fountain of tears.

The queen drains her coffee cup and fills it again. She has a feeling that today is already one of those days.

"Well we looked every where sweety. Upstairs and down..." The prince walks into the room and cuts the queen off.

"Maybe she put it in the basement?"

"No leave it the basement! Leave it my doll house!" A clue!

The queen runs up stairs and starts pulling apart the doll house. A princess does not have a small quaint doll house. Oh no she has a three floor white and pink doll mansion. They rip through 12 rooms of furniture. They are opening every tiny chest, drawer, & cupboard looking for the necklace. The queen even dumps all of the furniture out on to the rug and shakes the house upside down.

"Are you sure that the necklace is in here?"

"No my necklace not in there...it goooone". The whaling commences. If murdering the royal family member wasn't considered treason and punishable by public flogging the queen would strangle the princess. Instead the queen lays down on the rug and covers her face with her hands. The prince has to get to school in 30 minutes and she sees no end to this ridiculous royal tantrum.

When the queen opens her eyes she is looking under the Armour where the princess keeps her gowns. She sees a little plastic princess face on a cheap fabric elastic band.

"Alice look! Is this your necklace?" The Alice's tears stop in midair as she smiles and runs over to grab the Princess Ariel pony tail holder away from her mom. She puts the precious jewel on her wrist and runs down the hall screaming "Look! I found my necklace! My princess necklace!"

Celebrating Mothers

I love moms. I am a mom. My best friend's are moms. Heck, my mom is even a mom. I love 'em all. Even the moms that I don't like I love in a way because being a mom is challenging. I mean a lot of us mom's grow people in our bodies. We make people! Other mom's take strangers kids and devote their lives to loving and raising them. You have to respect a person who can do miraculous things. We also do crappy things and endure inhumane amounts of stress on a daily basis. But do we complain? Of course we do, becasue we also have to deal with unmentionable bodily functions, lack of sleep, and hours of childrens music & videos. We also spend hours each day trying to rationalize with irrational little people.
No we don't use Windex to clean the dog!

Being a mom is hard! If our kid turns out great it's a blessing. If our kid turns into an ax murdered it's our fault! What's up with that? They always blame the mother. We get no credit. Society devalues us and our occupation. I hate people who say "she's just a mom" Mother's work is real work, real hard dirty work. Do you know how much you'd have to pay a staff to replace just one mom? Check out the link for the Salary generator. I just figured out that as a mom I am worth $207,814 a year. Can I get that in cash please?

Can I submit the kids a bill? Not now after they get settled in their adult lives. I can give them my bill and retire. On the other hand if they grow up some what normal and never murder anyone with an ax that should be payment enough. We;ll a card on Mother's Day would be nice too.







Here is Lydia with her sidekicks.
Lydia is the luckiest mommy in the whole world.
She gave birth to the coolest kids ever.
She is saving up for their years of intensive therapy.