 You're sweet, but not naive -- though you like to be babied like a child at times. You prefer to have a bad boy by your side, but sometimes have problems understanding why he has to run off to take care of business. You want to settle down, yet deep down inside, you are excited by the surprises life throws your way. Take the What Pulp Fiction Character Are You? quiz. |
Blueberry pie! She's awfully cute. And French! I am going to have to go ahead and agree with that assessment. If I could be anybody in Pulp Fiction, I'd probably be Fabienne.
I do have one question though. Why the hell do I keep taking these stupid quizzes? Especially when I have so much to do! And you - you need to get back to work, too, don't you?!! Busted!
Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow
I am here at an undisclosed location (certainly not at work - I wouldn't
dream of blogging on work time, no siree!), intuitively knowing that the next 4 days of work will somehow manage to draaaaaaggggg by AND I'll be slammed with extra work to boot. Just wake me when it's over.
Please.
Memorial Day weekend really snuck up on me. It barely registered until Friday. As is my fantastic luck, I was here until 7.30 p.m. Friday night trying like hell to figure out how to zip a file that would only compress 10% which wasn't helpful at all. I pride myself on figuring out how to do just about everything or knowing who to ask when I don't know something. How many people do you think were here on Friday, on a holiday weekend, at 6 p.m.? Only 1 schmuck that I could see, and that was me!
Anyway, the weekend was mostly spent relaxing. We had our very first barbeque with the Quiltys-in-law and the kids. Yay! Mr. Q sure can barbeque.
More relaxing ensued.
Then yesterday, we saw Star Wars. I wish I had a lightsaber to cut off the arms and legs of the very ADD kid next to me who was constantly fidgeting and making too much noise with his candy wrappers and flinging his Red Vines around and around and tapping his feet. I had to tell him twice to stop making so much noise. The kid was super bored and obviously forgot to take his Ritalin. Arrrrghh.
Otherwise, it was a pretty uneventful weekend. It was awesome! My darling Mr. Q and I celebrate our 1st wedding anniversary tomorrow. With all of the excitement and chaos of the past month, it also really snuck up on us. Any ideas for free or cheap Wednesday fun? A sunset walk on the pier and a cocktail sounds good to me, but I really need to be more creative than that! Help!
Friday Music Meme
Jofo the Mofo tagged me for this music meme. I certainly cannot live up to his music reviewing prowess, so I am simply answering the prompts without explanation. Music means so much to me, I can't even begin to explain! I should really write about it more.
Total volume of music files on my computer:At work – none. At home, damn, I forgot to check. It’s a lot though.
The last CD I bought was: Garden State SoundtrackSong playing right now:
New Slang by the Shins
Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:Central Reservation by Beth Orton
Wendell Gee by REM
Old Friends by Simon & Garfunkel
Woman by John Lennon
Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley (does this song make everyone's list or what?)
Five People to Pass This On To:
I have never tagged anyone before – so, I would like to ask the newest girls on my block:
Dafina Girl,
Saucy,
LJ,
Christina, and the last one is up for grabs. I will not be hurt in the least if you refuse!
Still At Large: Ms. Q's Imposters
Private J, Princess Jojo and I went to dinner last night. I can't believe my baby boy is a soldier now. I can't believe I am the
mother of a soldier now. Never in my wildest and craziest dreams did I imagine that would happen. He's flying off to basic training, as we speak.
About last night - I bet you didn't know that I am really, really nice. I mean nicer than average. Sometimes, I am even Doormat Nice. Usually, when it comes to things like waiting on line at the market or waiting for a table at a restaurant, I am super patient. Upon our arrival at the restaurant last night, we were told that it would be a 15 - 20 minute wait and we were given a flashy pager thing that would presumably buzz and flash when our table was ready. That's how it normally works and my experience told me to expect the same thing this time. We proceed to hang out, act goofy, and take lots of pictures all the while waiting for our flashy pager thing to go off.
Thirty minutes go by and I notice that all of the people who arrived
after us had already been seated. Hmm. We decide to ask the Very Nice Hostess about our table seating status and while she's dickering with something, I glance at the list. I don't see my name. Wait. There it is. It's scratched out!
The Very Nice Hostess asks my name and when I reply, her eyes get really big and she exclaims "What a bunch of lying liars!".
Puzzled, I ask "who's a lying liar? Bill O'Reilly is here?"
The Very Nice Hostess then says... "the people who I seated 15 minutes ago who said they were you!"
This very minute in San Diego a crew of three is laughing because they got seated first by saying they were me! Yes, my identity was stolen for a table at the Outback.
Words of Wisdom?
Tonight, I am driving to San Diego to say 'bye to Big J, my baby boy, who should now officially be an Army recruit, a soldier or soon-to-be-soldier, an E-1 active duty enlisted guy. He swore in today (and I have a little swearing to do myself!). He should be flying to boot camp in Kentucky tomorrow so I guess tonight is his last night of freedom, more or less. If at all possible, we'll be having dinner together. Laughing, crying and a lot of advice-giving will take place.
I am proud of him for making a decision and not just slacking off for the next few years while he figures out what to do with his life. I know there is some good (and maybe a lot of good) that can come out of it. I've had lots of encouragement from people who have kids in the service and a lot of people who have served. Quite a lot of our clients and upper management people were Vietnam era soldiers, sailors, marines, etc. They have nothing but good things to say about the military. But then again, their lives turned out great. I haven't had a personal conversation with anyone whose life didn't turn out great and I have no doubt there are lots of those, too.
Everyone tells me he will really grow up in the next year or three. He will be a better citizen and a better human being. I know lots and lots of people without any military experience who are those things too so I don't really know how that's supposed to make me feel better.
I think this will be a good experience for him provided he doesn't go to Iraq and lose a limb or worse. Despite my fears, I do believe that he will be okay.
It's ironic that a month ago I was scoffing at the yellow ribbons (made in China) that I saw on every other car - the ones that say "support our troops"- and now I notice them in a totally different way. I wonder if they have kids in the military. I wonder if they have lost a kid to the military. I want to reach out and talk to them about their fears, too. I wonder if they are just poseurs who are in denial about the reality of "war". I am suddenly more interested in not just the rhetoric we see in the paper and in editorials, but in the nitty-gritty details of what is happening with the war and the military bureaucracy.
That said, if anyone has any words of wisdom, I am into that sort of thing right now. I need all the encouragement I can get.
To Latte, or Not to Latte? That is the question.
You have $3.75 to your name. The girls and guys at Starbucks sometimes give you a freebie. Do you get a latte and possibly spend your last $3.75 or do you drive straight home and drink a free glass of water like a good girl?
Just wonderin'.
Post-Graduation Nookie, or How to Spice up your Love Life, bloggy-style
As if you really need to know! But in case we are pioneers, I have to document this for the record. I also want to know if anyone else has done this. Done what? Sex bloggy-style. You know how some people fantasize or role play with their partner as a movie star or rock star or someone they know and kinda think is hot. We took it to a whole different level. Mr. Q isn't even a blogger, but he reads my blog and he knows who the people are on my blogroll which are the people I read most often. So, Saturday night he asks me to pick a blogger I like (and I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but the first blogger I think of who writes about sex is someone who starts with Hey and ends in Freak) and he picked a blogger he likes (who starts with a Snappy and ends with an Hour and happens to be getting some Hey Freak on herself). Anyway, it was kind of hot to pretend to be other bloggers. Don't ask me why! It just was.
Um. Yeah. So there you have it. Who knows, maybe you'll be next in the blogger fantasy sex. Carry on!
What a trip!
I did it!
Can't believe I actually made it. My first 2 years of college are over. And it only took me 14 years. Never let it be said that I give up easily! I am here to tell you it's never too late.
Interesting facts: the oldest person in my graduating class (wasn't me). She was 67 years old. The youngest was 15 years old.
Oh no, you dint! Yes, I did!
Me and J went to the 12:01 showing of Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith last night/this morning. What a scene! I didn't anticipate that we had so many geeks in our little surfer beach town. Everyone all dressed up and light-saber fighting in line. We decided at 9:00 p.m. to go see if there were tickets, and what do you know! There were. We got 2 and I jammed back home to get out of pajamas and into jeans while J held our place in line.
We were seated in one of the three theaters at 10:30 p.m. and the crowd was unruly but harmless. One drunk guy was ejected 2/3 of the way through the movie and fell flat on his face when he was getting up. That was actually the worst thing that happened.
The movie? I loved it. You have to see it. I'll definitely be going again soon with the rest of the Q-clan. It's not for little kids but for everyone else, a must see. Two thumbs way up.
Now, let's just hope the force is with me today as I fight the dark side of sleep. I'm running on about 2 hours right now. I'll be a miserable, whiny baby by about 3 o'clock this afternoon. But it was an experience all the way around and I'm so glad I got to share it with my boy! And my geek credentials were just elevated a notch. Yay, me. Nerdette Extraordinaire!
On Toe Cleavage and Cankles
I am going to institute a daily good news/bad news feature. Sounds dumb, I know, but it has really been the trend with me lately. Fortunately, today's issue only deals with shoes. Now that's the kind of problem I can handle!
I am wearing my daughter's totally cute shoes today. It's okay since we are related and she only wore them once to a dance. They are high-heeled, round toe, ankle strap, black with a pink peekaboo inset design and they look awesome with the new pink skirt I bought a few weeks ago and a white sweater set.
The good news is they make me look like I don't have cankles. Which I totally do. Even though I am rather thin, my calves and ankles just kind of blend together. I'm not talking tree-stumps here, just kind of straight legs. Which totally irritates me. Anyway, the shoes are sort of 40s-style and they give my feet that killer barbie-doll curve and really make my legs look... well, hot.
The bad news is, on one foot more than the other, I have a teensy bit of
toe cleavage. I know some people like that, but I don't. I think it looks just... wrong. Sorry, I don't like the toe cleavage. Cleavage is for big-breasted women. I don't think this is a worthy substitute. I thought I'd take cleavage any way I could get it, but I've changed my mind. Is that so wrong?
So there you have it. If this is my worst problem today, I am rejoicing loudly!
You're watching QNN
All Quilty, all the time.
This sure is a great forum for my narcissism. I can talk about myself all I want and nobody can tell me to shut up. Well, you can, but I'll just ignore you. HA! So there.
First things, first and then I won't talk about it anymore. I am DONE with community college! Last night, I took my French 3 final and it was
assez difficile but I think I might actually manage to pull off an A, or at least a B. I don't care too much at this point. It was my last class this semester and the last test of my lower division career. Besides, I'm still
magna cum laude and that's more than I've ever done before. The best part is that I have completed all of my lower division work and now that that's behind me, I get to take awesometastic upper division classes in subjects I actually care about. Community college was an interesting experience. I would recommend it to anyone who wants to go back to school but doesn't want to go into hock to take a few classes.
Next, and more importantly, my
baby boy will be here tonight. He's enroute as we speak. I can't wait to see him again. His girlfriend is heartbroken right now, but I am happy. I hate that my happiness comes at the expense of someone else's misery. I remember that lovesick, heartbroken feeling and had pangs of it just from talking to her briefly. But, I get to see my boy again!
Spiky lips and all!
Speaking of spiky lips, I have my own opinion and I am going to defer to Mr. Q on this anyway, but I wonder what the internets' finest thinks. When going to family functions, do you think it's proper to insist that spiky lip piercings be removed? I think it's fine for young people to express themselves, but when visiting grandparents, say, I feel quite strongly that out of respect for them, facial piercings should be left at home. It's not like they are easily shocked, and of course they love their grandkids, but to me piercings are kind of like a big f-you to mainstream society. Or they were at one time. To go to grandma's house with an f-you on your face seems disrespectful. I could argue for and against and think of many justifications either way, but this is my initial response and it's purely gut level. What do you think?
For all of my fellow word-lovers, here is an article I first spotted on
Fark, and reproduce here for your linguistical pleasure. Merriam-Webster asked people to submit words they liked that couldn't be found in the dictionary. Among the top 10 entries are some words I like and some that I whole-heartedly disapprove of! Bonus: I didn't realize that my ailment, cognitive dysplasia, had a name! I particularly dislike "gription", "chillax", and "slickery". But no one can ever accuse me of being a "lingweenie".
Merriam-Webster Online: "What a lovely bunch of vocabularians (persons who make up new words) you are! Lasterday (refers to any day before today) we squinched (action required to fit something into a space that is slightly too small) a schmiglet
(a small unit of measurement) of your awesomtastic (so wonderful the words just meld in your mouth) one-of-a-kind entries into this space in preparation for today's Top Ten reveal. With so many chizzy (awesome, super, happening) creations to choose from, we admit to becoming a bit flusterpated (a state of being flustered that's so intense, one's actions and words become bound up) and fahoodled (confused, esp. when trying to think of too many things at once). We craughed (to cry and laugh simultaneously), we troddled (to wander around without knowing of doing so), and finally decided to use the schwack (a large amount) of multiple entries received as the basis for the Top Ten-this is, let's not forget, all about favoritism.
From the thousands of submissions we received, here, then, are the ten words (not in the dictionary) entered the most often:
Top Ten Favorite Words (Not in the Dictionary)
1. ginormous (adj): bigger than gigantic and bigger than enormous
2. confuzzled (adj): confused and puzzled at the same time
3. woot (interj): an exclamation of joy or excitement
4. chillax (v): chill out/relax, hang out with friends
5. cognitive displaysia (n): the feeling you have before you even leave the house that you are going to forget something and not remember it until you're on the highway
6. gription (n): the purchase gained by friction: 'My car needs new tires because the old ones have lost their gription.'
7. phonecrastinate(v): to put off answering the phone until caller ID displays "
8. slickery (adj): having a surface that is wet and icy
9. snirt (n): snow that is dirty, often seen by the side of roads and parking lots that have been plowed
10. lingweenie (n): a person incapable of producing neologisms
How to make my day
How to make my day? Score me two tickets for the
KROQ Weenie Roast so my kids can go! Yessss. They are going! I can't believe it. I am freaking out right now!
This year's line up is better than ever and my kids want to go so badly. It's on Jojo's birthday (her 16th) and it's J's last weekend before boot camp. We tried like hell to get tickets when they went on sale last week. I tried, Mr. Q tried, their dad tried. Mr. Q even had a friend at work trying. All to no avail. And we were all wrecked about it. I even started bidding for tickets on e-bay.
Anyway, I don't want to get too detailed but a *
certain someone* named Kevin scored me a pair for the kids! I am ecstatic! Beyond ecstatic! He is totally my new heartthrob. I loves me some Kevin. My only other close encounter with him was in about 1991 or 1992 when me and Mr. Q (he wasn't my Mr. then, just a friend) went to an all-night ski event and Kevin & Bean were there. I said Hi, but Mr. Q talked to him a while. That was my only brush with radio fame.
So now, Dr. Drew is out and Kevin is in as my KROQ celebrity radio crush. If this isn't a cruel joke, and I actually get the tickets, I will be starting a Kevin fan club. Stay tuned for details!
Back and Blue
Back and Blue
So, I had to leave after only a brief bit of time. The day was fun and it was hard to say goodbye again. Isn't it funny how 8 hours at the office can seem like a century but 8 hours with someone amazing goes by so quickly? Not funny, ha ha. Funny, strange. Anyway, I am glad I went. I would give you more details, but I can't right now. I will give a synopisis later.
J will be here on Wednesday and then he's gone to basic training on May 25.
He did it!
Yay, J-man!
I am so proud of his achievement. All day Friday, he was doing his dead-on accurate Napolean Dynamite impression and his friend walks by and says "your mom's in college" and J. says "my mom IS in college!"
I will be sporting a cap and gown this Friday so technically my son graduated before me. Doh. That's not how it's supposed to go!
Driving me crazy!
Driving me crazy!
I made it to Portland and my baby son was waiting for me there! We had an eensy challenge getting a rental car, but we finally did and here's the first picture of the day. Aren't we cute? I still can't believe I have a grown, adult, old-enough-to-vote-and-smoke-and-join-the-Army, son. How in the world is that possible? I remember when a week seemed like an eternity. Now, I blink and it's a new year, decade, millenium, etc.
My Goofing Off is Catching Up
I am flying up to Portland tomorrow, so no blogging for me. I have been goofing off a lot this week so I have mondo piles of work to do and only 1.5 hours left in my work week to get through them. Egads! How did this happen?
I found a funny site with the funniest post
here. You don't even have to be from Texas to think it's funny, but it might help.
Next, I am going to throw out a few topics for discussion.
- Which would you rather be: macaroni or cheese?
- Does anybody know what a Hollaback Girl is? And why is Gwen singing about bananas? Am I the only one who thinks that song is dumb?
- Why is that Gorillaz song so damn catchy? Ditto for Weezer. Ditto the Killers. And Arcade Fire. Is it just me, or did suddenly a lot of really good music come out? By suddenly, I mean in the past six months or so. Alright, the past year. There was a really long period of time where I hated just about everything. Now, I love just about everything. Hmm. That's veddy, veddy strange.
Anyway, have a happy Friday the 13th and a Happy Weekend. It's Friday the 13th tomorrow. And I am flying? It's a good thing I'm not superstitious. Much. Excuse me while I go take a Valium!
Quilty, out!
Quizzy Goodness
Well, duh!
| You scored as Idealist. Idealism centers around the belief that man is moving towards something greater. An odd mix of evolutionist and spiritualist, you see the divine within man, waiting to emerge over time. Many religious traditions express how the divine spirit lost its identity, thus creating our world of turmoil, but in time it will find itself and all things will again become one.
Idealist | | 88% | Romanticist | | 81% | Cultural Creative | | 81% | Postmodernist | | 69% | Fundamentalist | | 50% | Materialist | | 50% | Existentialist | | 50% | Modernist | | 44% |
What is Your World View?
created with QuizFarm.com |
[Found at Psychobabble and Snidget.]
File under: For whatever it's worth
I actually have good news. My breakdown had a half-life of only a few days, so I think I actually see some light at the end of the tunnel. Of course, as the magnet on my MIL and PIL's (mama- and papa- in-law) fridge says "the light you see at the end of the tunnel might be an oncoming train". Or something like that. Anyway, a huge debt of gratitude goes to Mr. Q for putting up with my basket-case-edness and not leaving me (yet). I know he wants to.
First good news: My uber-cool PIL is out of the hospital and is at home as of last night. He's not running marathons or anything yet, but at least he's out of the hospital.
Second good news: My uber-awesome husband has made it possible for me to fly to Portland Friday for the big day with my boy. Pictures should be up on Monday. I was going to drive up there, blah blah blah, but we figured out that was a monumentally stupid thing to do given everything else that is going on right now. So, I fly up Friday morning, see my baby graduate, and fly home Friday night.
Third good news: My boy will hopefully be spending the remainder of his short, free time before his individuality is surrendered, his head is shaven further, and he starts saying "Sir! Yes, Sir!"... with me. If it works out, he is coming down here for 10 days before he swears in and ships off to boot camp. That will be awesome, because he'll be here for MY graduation, in which case I will walk, and his sister's 16th birthday. I am even tentatively planning to watch him swear in. If that happens, I promise to not do anything foolish like (Censored for Big Brother) and prevent him and all the other recruits from going off to fight in this travesty of a conflict. It will undoubtedly be the hardest thing ever, but I do need to support him. Right? Right.
Fourth good news: This semester is over except for finals. I survived with my sanity partially intact so that is good. I am taking the summer off from school. If you hear me saying
anything about signing up for a class over the summer, please, please just shoot me. Unless it's yoga. I really need to start doing yoga again. That's the only exception!
Thanks! You've been a lovely audience!
Negative Correlations
You may be interested to know that there is a direct correlation between the darkness of the circles under my eyes and my ability to count. There were four people for dinner last night. I put out five place settings. And everyone was too polite to point out how retarded I was. How sweet.
That is but one example of my unique brand of brain-deadness. Hopefully, the dark circles will disappear soon and my meager cognitive abilities will return.
In the meantime, I have to get back to my semi-miserable kind of life. When I return, my nervous breakdown should be complete and I should be back to my shiny, happy usual self!
Happy Freaking Monday
My life has pretty much gotten completely out of hand and all I can say is "SERENITY NOW!".
Mr. Q's dad is in the hospital. He went in Wednesday and we all thought he'd be back home by now and at work even, but he's not doing too well. Thoughts and prayers are welcomed.
I have my own plethora of issues going on right now which we'll save for later. (Girl issues.) Mother's Day was mostly spent at the hospital and I was happy to be there. I made dinner for my beautiful and most amazing Mom-in-law and my always amazing husband and my mostly amazing daughter. My amazing son is apparently trapped under a large, heavy object somewhere because he forgot/neglected/didn't care enough to call me to say Happy Mother's Day.
I am minutes away from boycotting his graduation. I don't want to boycott but the stars are all aligning to make it one of the most difficult things I've ever done. And he hasn't even given me the freaking courtesy to let me know what time the ceremony is. He said he wanted me to come and said it was important to him, but since I (a) don't know what time it is; (b) don't have the money and scarcely the time to get there; (c) didn't even get so much as a phone call yesterday; and (d) he has ignored repeated requests to tell me where and when it is, I am wondering just how important it will be to him. Just one of those and the many other factors wouldn't stop me, but they are all compounding each other to make it seemingly impossible.
Sorry, if I'm bumming you out! It's looking like another week from hell. And I don't want to face. No, no, no, no.
Blogrolling right on into the weekend
I thought of something cool to say. I just checked my site stats (using StatCounter) and someone was on my site at 12:34:56 p.m. today. Neat!
I am so easy to entertain!
In other news, there is an interesting debate going on regarding Blogrolls. Blogrolls, are they helpful or hurtful? You can read about it
here, and
here, and
here, and
here. There is more but that's a pretty good start.
I am a tiny speck of the blogiverse (probably a single-celled organism in the ttlb ecosystem) but I still discover a lot of new blogs through other people's blogrolls and I hope people find me that way too. I am not that invested in the outcome of this but I just hope we can all settle this like adults or else the legislature might get involved! They would love to tell us what to do, wouldn't they?
What do you think? Blogrolls, Yea or Nay?
This is a figment of your imagination
I have no time to post. I have no brain cells left with which to think of anything to say. Besides, it's Friday so no one is reading this anyhow. *doing the happy friday dance*
This time next week, I'll be in Portland, Oregon, watching my very cool grown-up baby boy graduate.
I hope you have a fabulous weekend.
If you don't know what a scintillating scotoma is, you are really missing out. Let me tell you.
What it is: an aura, a precursor to a migraine. Sometimes there isn't a migraine. It's just the aura. It's a very bright, flashing, shimmering, zig-zaggy pattern that starts in the center of my field of vision and spreads out until it covers my entire field of vision and then slowly disappears. Anyway, there are many links available to explain this, but since my vision is all distorted right now, I am not going to link any becuase I might inadvertently link some porn or something. (Not that there's anything wrong with that!)
Anyway, I normally get one per month maximum. When I went to Las Vegas in March, I got two in the same week and three total that month. All of them happened right before I got the flu. Right now I am having the second one of the day. The DAY. Two within an hour of each other.
It's really freaking me out! I'm curious if anyone else gets them. I know WeeBee gets them but I don't know how frequently. Send me more comment love, especially if know what the hell I'm talking about!
Oh, yeah. And happy 05/05/05!
News Flash: Canadians Speak English
First of all, thank you all for your kind words and your thoughts and prayers yesterday. This morning, three little birds told me that every little thing’s gonna be alright.
Now for something completely different. (*Picks self up from depths of despair and dusts off behind*)
I have a friend (woo hoo!), who I will call WeeBee until she protests or I think of a better name for her. WeeBee is married to GeeBee and they are from Canada. They are both really cool, and also they have exquisite taste in friends.
Anyway, I couldn’t resist posting this excerpt from her email to me yesterday. Just when I thought Americans were getting slightly smarter (maybe it's just me) someone told her that...
He was astonished by how well I speak English considering I am Canadian and all.
I told him that we speak English in Canada but then he said, "I know, but you speak it so well, like Americans."
Brilliant, eh? Americans make me laugh.
The good news/bad news continues...
I fear that my life will never be normal.
I am pretty sure that it's never going to be normal.
So, I am graduating this month with my Associate's Degree. That's probably not overly impressive, but given my life, it's a big accomplishment. That's good news, right? Four days after my graduation, my son is scheduled to ship off to Boot Camp. For me, that is very bad news.
I had my son when I was 17 years old. Seventeen years and 3 months, to be exact. His dad was 21 and in the Navy. He was my high school boyfriend and I got pregnant when he came home on leave at the end of my sophomore year. There was a lot of pressure from parents to get married before the baby was born, so we did.
When my son was 6 months old, I made the decision to drop out of high school and move to San Diego to raise him. My parents drove with me and a tiny U-Haul trailer to California from Texas and they left two days later. My husband, who I had never lived with before or even spent the night with aside from our brief honeymoon, left to go out to sea before my parents even left town. He was often out to sea, sometimes for six months at a time.
I was horribly depressed. I didn't have any friends. I didn't have any money. I didn't even have a car or a television. My family, such that they were, were a million miles away. Here I was with a baby and no clue what to do. I am quite sure that I was a miserable person to be around and I am sure that had an effect on my son.
Through the years, there were lots of friends, another baby, and several big moves. The only constant thing I recall is that I was not very good about giving my kids structure. When dad was in port, we had a lot of parties. Bedtimes were inconsistent. If the kids didn't want to eat something, I would make sure they got something else. I gave them a lot of choices.
"Do you want to take a bath?" "No" "Okay, we'll try again later."
"Do you want to get dressed?" "No" "Okay, run around naked, that's alright with me."
"Do you want to go to bed?" "No" "Okay, I'll just watch you draw on the walls with that crayon, sweetie."
"Cookies for dinner? No problem."
"Do you want to buy the red Hot Wheel or the blue one?" "Okay, I don't have to eat today so I will just spend my last dollar on a toy for you that you don't need."
It sounds like I was overindulgent, but at the time, it was always easier to give them choices than it was to hear them resist, cry, complain or whine. By the time my daughter was 2 1/2, and my son was 5 1/2, I started to figure out that giving them so many choices was not good for them or me. I was losing my grip on sanity and they were running my life. They were in charge of everything and I was always in a bad mood.
So, I started to crack down. Bedtimes became consistent. Nap times were enforced. Dinner time was dinner time, not play video game time. My daughter eventually adapted to the new Mom-in-charge routine, but my son never did. He was difficult. I mean, he was an angel as a baby, but 4, 5, 6, and on were extraordinarily difficult. He was hard to discipline. He didn't do things he was supposed to, like homework and chores. I would spend hours and hours every night trying to help him, to no avail. He would have temper tantrums when he didn't get something he wanted. And he always wanted something.
He would always struggle with school. And he would always have a hard time fitting in. At first, I figured that was okay because as a teenager, who does fit in? It's hard for him to form attachments to people because we moved around so much. I was always justifying everything.
And then I divorced his father. My son wanted to live with his dad. He was almost 15 at the time.
We talked and talked and talked and finally decided that he could stay with his dad. Unbelievably, shortly thereafter, I moved out of the state. He struggled through school until he was 18 and then he dropped out. Last May, he went into JobCorps and things were going well until 2 weeks ago when he dropped this bombshell.
"Mom, I don't know how to tell you this." These are words every mother dreads.
"It's okay, sweetie, tell me. What is it?"
"I am going to join the Army."
I have no words for news like that. We have had so many conversations since then, but he is determined. He is young and stubborn. He signed the papers on Monday.
I am leaving out my personal feelings about the Army, the military, and the war right now. All of those feelings aside, he knows that joining the military will hurt me and he may or may not want to hurt me intentionally. But this hurts me nonetheless.
Of course, I am my own worst critic. I know
intellectually that I did the best I could with the resources I had. I know that I was young and stupid once, too. I know that I physically took great care of my kids and gave them a lot of love and affection. I also know or rather believe, that staying with their father for their sake would not have been better for them. I know that I was a good mom despite the circumstances. That does not take away the pain that I have right now knowing that I failed my children in big ways, and my son in particular, by not giving them what they needed most, namely stability and structure and discipline and a sense of purpose. My regrets in life are few but the ones I have are profound and have to do with things I
didn't do.
I love my son unconditionally. We've grown up together in a sense. Only now I have found myself and he is just beginning to even realize he has to do that. He has seen me rebel against the status quo and authority and follow the beat of my own drummer. He knows that I love him and am supremely proud of him even with his tattoos, piercings and shaved head. He can do so much. He is the most sensitive, caring and sweet boy I've ever known. He has even more opportunity and even less responsibility than I had at his age. It is breaking my heart that he is making this choice.
And I am crying right now knowing that next week when I see him graduate from Job Corp it may be the last time I see him whole.
Attack of the Killer Frogs or, the Talented Ms. Q
I almost killed a frog Friday night.
The past weekend was full of firsts for me. I am in my 37th year on this planet and I am still doing things for the first time. That's a good thing,
n'est-ce pas?
The past week was a continual string of good news/bad news. Quite eventful. The month of May? More of the same. Here's a flavor of the week past. And more about that frog.
Monday: I barely remember Monday. The whole week was spent at el Jefe's house taking care of his dog. El Jefe and his wife live with their dog in a palatial home on a golf course far from civilization. It's like staying at the Ritz Carlton, except we don't have a staff there all the time (only part of the time). Plus we get paid to stay there and look after/keep the dog company. She is a very spoiled doggie!
Tuesday: Secretary's Day Lunch; I was catered, pampered, and showered with gifts. I got a new pet fish, which was part of my place setting. If you want to impress your lunch or dinner guests, simply put a fish in a bowl with orchids. It was really pretty. My bosses forgot about me though (not the first time).
Wednesday: Something happened which I can't really remember. But Mr. Q got a new top for his Jeep!!! Yay!
Thursday: I left work early to pick up TQ, go by the hospital to pick up copies of X-rays, and make a mad dash to her Dr. appointment for sprained ankle follow-up. Walked in the door of the office only to see the bewildered face of the receptionist. Apparently, our appointment was on Wednesday. I've never screwed up something like that before. My doctor's dad, also a physician happened to be there and agreed to see Jojo's ankle. Cast off, crutches gone! Yay. She's gimpy but mostly intact. When I left the office, I checked my notes. You see, I keep notes of my phone calls. I had written "per Sally, Dr. P, Thursday, 4/28 at 4:30 p.m." Twice. I remember that she seemed distracted so I ask her to repeat it. I think Sally is trying to sabotage my relationship with the one good doctor I have been able to find and keep. Down with Sally!
Friday: BBQ at work. I won the pitching contest and scored a gift card/free dinner at Dave & Buster's. Yay, me!
Later, friends came over to the Casa el Jefe with beer. We ate pizza and shouted at each other over the sound of the Very Loud Frogs. All week, we imagined the frogs were enormous based on the size of their croaks. It turns out they are really, really small. We saw some hanging out in the pool. I, being ultra clever, thought I could catch one. In doing so, the tiny froggy hopped out of my hand. Into the 102 degree hot tub. We scooped it out and somehow managed to fling it back into the 70 degree pool. It floated, totally motionless. I was horrified.
Mr. Q decided the compassionate thing to do was to retrieve the dead frog and give it a proper burial. As he was just about to ceremoniously place the frog's limp body into the hole he had lovingly prepared, he noticed a faint heartbeat. So, thinking I had only given it permanent brain-damage instead of murdering it outright, I briefly considered inserting a feeding tube. My husband, the humanitarian, determined the frog could be rehabilitated and put him in a small bowl with a bit of water and laid the bowl on its side near the waterfall.
Frogs have amazingly short rehabilitation times. He hopped away in no time. He is currently conspiring with all the other frogs and plotting his revenge against me for putting him through that ordeal. I am really afraid to go to sleep now.
There were other firsts that night, but this is a PG-rated blog, so I will spare you.
In case you missed it
One of the many interesting things that happened last week was that my blog was featured in a comic strip on someone else's blog. I hesitated to mention it outright, but I figure that will only happen once in my lifetime, so why not tell you 'bout it. If you must know and in case you missed my subtle link to it last week, it's at
Collin vs. Blog and
Dylan was the one who told me about it.
The moral of this story: anything you say, can and will be used against you in the blogosphere! Think carefully before you type that next confession. It just may end up in a comic somewhere!
Oh, Blogger. Why do you hate me so?
I just wrote a long post. Blogger just took a dump and with it, my long post. Good times. Sorry, you'll just have to use your imagination. I might try to recreate it using what little it saved. But, probably not.
Here is the summary. My week was hectic. My son is joining the Army (more on that later). I almost killed a tiny frog. (Those two things are not related in any way.) Besides those really traumatic experiences, I did a lot of other fun things, including the acquisition of two really good CDs. (XTCs Skylarking, courtesy of GB and the long-awaited purchase of the Garden State Soundtrack.)
Side note to Dylan: I was confuse-ed about the Shins song. The song I love is "New Slang". But now I own it, so there is one happy ending. The whole album is great and it is particularly fitting for me right now. The exploration of the infinite abyss continues and is filled with trials and tribulations to make even the strongest person quiver in their boots.
May is shaping up to be one of the busiest months on record at Chez Quilty. I'll try to keep you posted if I don't lose my mind in the meantime.
Here's to our mental health. I'll drink to that.
No time to post...
I have a lot to say but I am totally swamped and since I have so much to say it's going to take a while. Hopefully, I will get a lunch break and write a bit.
In the meantime, enjoy these adorable sayings from kids that someone emailed me a while back. Yes, they are corny, but they will make you laugh!
HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHO TO MARRY?==================================
( 1 ) You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming. -- Alan, age 10
( 2 ) No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry. God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you're stuck with. -- Kirsten, age 10
WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED?( 1 ) Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then.-- Camille, age 10
( 2 ) No age is good to get married at. You got to be a fool to get married.-- Freddie, age 6 (very wise for his age)
HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED?( 1 ) You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids.-- Derrick, age 8
WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MOM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON?( 1 ) Both don't want any more kids. -- Lori, age 8
WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE?( 1 ) Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough.-- Lynnette, age 8 (isn't she a treasure)
( 2 ) On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date.-- Martin, age 10
WHAT WOULD YOU DO ON A FIRST DATE THAT WAS TURNING SOUR?( 1 ) I'd run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns.-- Craig, age 9
WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE?( 1 ) When they're rich.-- Pam, age 7
( 2 ) The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that. -- Curt, age 7
( 3 ) The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them. It's the right thing to do.-- Howard, age 8
IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED?
( 1 ) I don't know which is better, but I'll tell you one thing. I'm never going to have sex with my wife. I don't want to be all grossed out.-- Theodore, age 8
( 2 ) It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them.- Anita, age 9 (bless you child)
HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN'T GET MARRIED?( 1 ) There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there?-- Kelvin, age 8
HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK?( 1 ) Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a truck.-- Ricky, age 10
