ammogirl

Today went much better than yesterday.  Phew.  Thank god.  I would like to say that it seems Pixie is the only person out there who has a romantic streak and got the whole point of yesterday’s post.  Look:  crabby mcbitchiness + horrible day(intuitive boy + the sweetest note ever) = a bit of teariness around the optical region, and an instantly much better mood.  THAT’S the message I was trying to get across.  Jeez.  Ya bunch of cynics, laughing at my misfortune!!!

Anyway, we took the girls to the dentist today, and I don’t know how I managed it, but this dentist happens to be American, and his assistant is American, and while I am trying to promote exposure to the German culture, German dentistry is…another story entirely.  So.  Once we actually FOUND the place (it took FOREVER, and involved autobahns and traffic circles and right of ways and frantic phone calls to the dental office and good LORD it is confusing to find new places around here) and apologized profusely for being late, I was instantly impressed by Dentist Guy.  You guys.  He BROKE IT DOWN for us.  Like, showed us the x-rays, and explained EACH TOOTH.  For both girls.  And then gave us detailed descriptions of upcoming care for said teeth.  AND!  Filled out the stupid insurance forms for the military insurance people with his own codes - by himself.  Yes!  The dentist took the time to fill out the forms by hand. And then he pulled out his appointment book and scheduled a followup appointment for a cavity - for this coming Wednesday.  Now, I don’t know about anyone else, but in my experience, getting appointments for my children has always had to happen six months out, not six days.  It was amazing.  He is - and I really mean it this time - literally The Best Dentist EVARRRRRR!!!!!!!! 

Andddd - I just wrote an entire paragraph about my children’s dentist.  So that’s fun. 

Tomorrow night Taylor is having a sleepover.  Now, I’m not against sleepovers for my daughter and her eleven year old friends per se -

Never mind.  I HATE sleepovers!  On sleepover nights I have to be responsible!  I have to be interested in other people’s children!!  And I have to do it without wine OR whiskey sours! 

It’s going to be such a long, lonnnggg night.

Tschuss!!

I had such a crappy start to my morning.  I didn’t want to wake up, I was cranky because I haven’t had nearly enough sleep for the past couple of days, I am already tired of studying for my next stripe….what else?  Work is completely stressful right now, with the having to learn everything in the entire world to ever happen ever, and I am WAYYYY behind on my Christmas shopping, and nobody wants to mail to APO addresses, which totally doesn’t help.  So, basically - I’m a crabby pants, right?  Like, while I’m tying my robe I’m mad at IT.  And the whole way down the stairs I’m trudging, and in my head I’m yelling at everything, and complaining about anything and everything, down to the tiiiiiiiiny drip of wax on the floor, because my life is Just So Hard, and even having to BREATHE pisses me off because why do I have to do EVERYTHINGGGGG**.  So, of COURSE, because living in the pit of hell and torture that is my life isn’t enough, I drop a jar of grape fucking jelly on the floor and it shatters, and glass and huge globs of purple sticky shoot everywhere, and it’s NOT EVEN FIVE IN THE MORNING YET.

I stand there a minute, and say "fuck", and then I say "goddamn", and I glare at the HUGE mess all over my kitchen and pantry, but even though I’m shooting deadly laser beams, it doesn’t clean itself up, because WHO HAS TO DO EVERYTHING?  ME**.  So I pick up the pieces, and then I wipe up the jelly, and then I vacuum, and then I mop, and I open up another jar of jelly and make the stupid sandwiches, and ONLY THEN, 30 minutes after I have woken up, do I sit down to drink my coffee, but I have to chug it, because now I am late, and I stay late, and cranky, all the way to the front gate on base, when I pull out my wallet to get my I.D. card, and I find the note my husband left me after hearing me bitch about my horrible morning.  The one that simply says "I love you", with the cutest heart ever.

And then I wasn’t crabby anymore.  And it didn’t even piss me off that I wasn’t.

Tschuss!!

**disclaimer: I don’t actually do "everything", by the way.  That was just the hormones bitching, with a touch of the dramatic thrown in for good measure.  Pretty much what I do around here is "nothing".

I feel guilty: there was a Christmas party fund raiser shopping trip to the Czech Republic this past Saturday, and I paid for Lindsey and I to go, but at the last minute, we dropped out.  But!  I paid in advance, and didn’t ask for a refund, so they still get the money.  That makes it okay, right?  Because really.  Look at the schedule:

- Leave 1:30 AM Saturday, on a bus.  With 35 people you either don’t know, or know just enough to say hello, because you recognize them, but won’t start a conversation with because hi!  I’m socially inept!
- Drive four hours to a rest stop.  Eat breakfast, if you brought something to eat for breakfast.  If not, stare longingly at other people’s food.  If they notice you staring, pretend there is something really interesting out the window behind them.
- Drive two more hours to Karlovy Vary.  Arrive at 8 AM. This is early, by the way.
- Shop for four hours.  After sleeping all night on a bus, which you are sharing with your 12 year old daughter, who considers you a very fine pillow. 
- Eat at McDonalds, if you want lunch, and if you actually eat McDonalds.  Which I don’t, and, for the record, haven’t, for…at least five years.  McDonalds=gross.
- At noon, hop on the bus, for a 1.5 hour drive to the Dragon Market at Cheb.
- Shop until 5 PM.  If you are keeping track, that’s eight hours of shopping.  After the whole bus thing, and after the food (or lack of) issues.  With your almost teenage daughter.  Who didn’t really want to go in the first place.
- Drive 1.5 hours to a random restaurant.  Eat until 7:45 PM.  Awkward conversation most likely required.
- Get back on the bus.  Driiiiiiivvvvvveeeeee some more. 
- Arrive home at midnight-ish.

Now.  You totally see my point, don’t you?  Seriously.  That’s just too much for me.

I didn’t call and cancel until 12:15 am-ish, annnnnd…here’s where my guilt comes in…I told them I couldn’t go because Lindsey was sick, even though she was sitting right next to me at the time and by all accounts, feeling quite fabulous.  What!  It was a good excuse!  Yes, I am a LYING LIAR!  YES, I am a bad person who used my own daughter for ILL GAIN!  Woe!  Guilt!  Moments of Stress!

Or not, really.  You would have done it too.

So.  Christmas is in less than a month.  What the hell happened to the time?  I had a moment of panic today (as I always do at this time of year) when I thought "Holy crap MOM’S BIRTHDAY" and scrambled for a calendar.  However, I am still in my window, which is good.  I mean, not to say that I don’t have it marked off on my calendar with sparkly glitter and neon colors and loud jangling music, because I totally do, MOM.  I just like to wait until the last possible moment to send it, because I think it adds more excitement (will it get there in time?  HOPE FOR THE BEST!!) to the game.  Also, it makes my sister (the kiss ass one) look better.  You know how it is with sisters.  She’s the middle one (like…Jan) and therefore, is always never the best.  So she has to try especially hard on special occasions, and sends HER cards totally early in order to be "first".  Anyway, so I’m doing her a favor.  But, Toni?  Jan was NEVER THE FAVORITE.

I am the baby of the family, by the way.  That entitles me to do things wrong and get away with it.  Like…sending out birthday cards late.  Not that I have!  But!  Just in case!   Hi mom! 

Tschuss!!