Difficulties

I think I'm finding it more and more difficult to write. On any given day, I may meet a new person (usually a nanny from Oaxaca), go on a new adventure, but what story is good enough to share?

My offspring themselves are interesting and rather fun to tell stories about, but what do you want to read about? I find myself at a point where I know that everyone who reads this knows most everything about me - so what can even be new?

Well, one thing I tend to find myself repeating a lot (to the new people I meet here and there and everywhere) is that I work as a sub. People view subbing as a bit of a crappy job, and it is - no insurance, so security, getting paid half or less what a teacher makes, whatever - but it's cool - and what I like most is having little to no responsibility for the students.

After subbing at schools in Compton, East Los, Glendale, and Canyon Country, subbing at LACHSA has been my main thing. There's one thing I've learned there that I haven't learned at many other schools, and that is that 97% of 14-15 year olds have mental handicaps. (I include myself in that percentage - but my sister is in the other 3%)

14-15 year olds, even sometimes regardless of who their parents are - are nuts. (here goes the disclaimer - I DO really LIKE them all, so if you are 14 or 15 or maybe even 16 or 17 please do not take offense, and like I mention in the above heading "never take my advice".

There may be nothing better to put the fear of having children in you as spending an hour and a half with 35 pubescent, hormonally raging, obnoxious, loud or reserved 14-15 year olds. It can be a living hell, a chaotic nightmare, and rarely a peaceful experience. This all leads to an assignment that I assigned some of my students last year when I was teaching.

"Forget the Spanish today, and take out a piece of paper!"

"You kids make me fear being a mother. I am scared to death of what my children may be like in 12 years from now so I need you to do me a favor".

I'm serious here - I did make them do this, and still have all the papers in my bookcase next to me to prove it. (I know I know, all this wishy washy writing is confusing and very Sara, but just calm yourself down and bear with me)

"I want all of you - to give me parental advice. And for those of you who are the worst - and you know who you are - I want you to pay extra attention and give the best advice. Write down what you think your parents did WRONG to make you the way you are. If you are a good kid - and you know who you are - please be sure to include what kinds of good things your folks did to make you a decent human being. I would really appreciate it."

Most of those kids wrote amazing papers. They took it really seriously as a minute to reflect on their upbringing. Of course, there were remarks such as "Do not let your children associate with minorities" and other funny things, but overall they gave some valuable advice.

Completely

Hi. How are you. My name is Sara. I live in Glendale and do not drive a Black Mercedes.

I have to shop at 4 different stores to get what I want to eat, and I do not shop at Costco. (by force, not by choice)

I drive a car with leather seats (which I have blogged about before) yet I'd prefer vinyl seats and no air conditioning if I could just drive a 1982 Toyota Corolla Wagon.

I have to go to Chatsworth soon to get a fix it ticket signed.

I have a stack of bills to pay.

My dishes are waiting for me. Some to wash, some to put away. They are calling my name from across the house, and I yell back to them. I say ... "paaleeze.... give me a second."

I went to Disneyland, and paid for it by myself. hahahahahahahahahahahahahahha... ooohhhahhahahahah. You think that's funny too? Well, you should.

There was a day this week in which my children were abducted for over 6 hours.
Within 2 of those 6 hours, my man and I went to 6 different places. (This is something that is IMPOSSIBLE WITH 2 BABIES IN THE CAR)

Today, we went to 5 places within 2 hours in the car, and it was hell. Who knew that every freakin library in the city of Los Angeles is either closed or doesn't open till 1pm on Sundays. Damn Budget.

I went to see that movie... the Dark Knight and left 20 minutes before it ended. jajajajajajajajaja. In the comments section, please feel free to let me know what happened. (I've heard a little already)

My tawin sista has decided to include her sister into the club, but she can only be a triplet, not a tawin.

I've been a mom for almost 4 years now, (almost 5 if you count having a child in the womb) and I still can't figure out how to feed 3 proper meals to 4 different people a day regularly without ignoring my kids for at least 2 hours total so I can cook all those meals.

I'm never going to let my kids talk me into getting a dog. (please remind me that I put this in writing if I ever forget)

I got a new t-shirt from Al. (Janet Jackson - rhythm nation) oh, so nice.

My sister has new lodgings, and I can't wait to visit her.

Summer is just about over, and I think it's time to deflate the baby pool.

Our xmas tree was outside by the curb for 2 weeks. The trash guys refused to pick it up. My dad smashed it into the green bin. It's sticking out - and is firey red. Do you think they will again refuse to throw it away? Will I live with the tree forever?
On many occasions, while it was out on the curb, I saw people actually stop their car to look. How "barrasing".

My kids are addicted to make-up. This is becoming a problem with my little mute child. She pokes her lips all day, motioning the application of lipstick. She would rather chew on Lip Smakers than eat pizza. Poor girl.

Enough. I know. Have a great week, and I'm sure by next Sunday, something interesting just may happen, and it just may be worth writing about. Peace.

Taa-wiin Sista!

Sometimes when I'm talking to someone in front on my kid (the older one), and she wants my attention, she says "Saarraa!". So much for teaching your kid to be proper. I think it's funny. She only does it to get my attention. Other times, I struggle to get her attention, but if I bring up the fact that she is my "Twiiin Sista", then she will definitely look my way.

I really have no idea how this all started. I don't even know how she understands what twins are. Maybe it was on a Dora episode or somethin.

But a few months ago, this "Twiinn Sista" business came to be.

For the first time in maybe 6 years I ended up buying some very 1991 style bathing suit, blue with white polka dots. (yes, I know, sounds very fashionable... and it is of course). Celia, at this time, had (and still has) a green bathing suit, with white polka dots.

"Oooh... mom, look! Your bathing suit has white dots, and MINE has white dots! THAT MUST MEAN WE'RE........ TWIN SISTERS!"

Oh la la! A twin! How exciting. I never had one. So, since then, every time we go swimming we are TWIINNN SISTERS!

You may not think this is interesting at all, but it is quite amusing to me, more than anything cuz the child is very very cute. This does tend to exclude the younger child. She is not our triplet, but she does have a twin of her own.

Every time this T.S. business comes up, Alex tends to get a little jealous. He'll point out that Celia and him have the same favorite color, then tell her they must be twins too, then she quickly says.

"no no no no no DAD! I'm not your twin sister. MOM is my twin sister. YOU are Effie's twin sister."

It's too funny. Now she plays this game where she'll ask me:

"Mom.. what's your favorite food?"

"hmm... hamburgers."

"Oh yeah! ME TOO! That must be because WE ARE............ TAAAWIIINNNN SISTASSSS!"

This can go on for extended periods of time. Many questions are asked and answered just so she can let every one know how we are twins.

On a daily basis, at some point I have to ask Celia a question.

"Celia - what do you want for breakfast? Chorizo and eggs or waffles?"

-she won't answer.

"CELIA!" (then I repeat the question)

- no answer.

"Hey you! I asked you what you wanted to EAT! You can't watch Pee Wee if you don't eat something FIRST!"

- no answer. ugg.

(She's always in her own world. She'll be much more interested in tracing "S's" on a piece of paper or talking to Nala and Simba [see older posts] than to consider eating)

Thennn... I remember. Why should I asked her as her mother, when I'm her twin! Oh yeah... so I say:

"Hey TWIIIIN SISTER!! I know you looooveee waffles! Weeeelll.. meee too! That must be because we are....... Twiiinnnn Sistersss!!!"

"OH RIGHT MOM! I FORGOT! We ARE Twin Sisters! I sure do looove waffles!"

Normally I am just "mom", and try my best to act like one. Sometimes the regular mom stuff works just fine, but when she starts to zone out, being her twin can really come in handy.

Snakes

Do you remember the part in Pee Wee's Big Adventure when the pet store is on fire, and he is rescuing the animals? Remember how every time he goes back in the store to rescue something else, he looks at the snakes with disgust? Well, it's that feeling I have every time I walk past the kitchen and look at the dishes. I'll do anything else imaginable before I tackle them. That's why I'm writing this right now, because the dishes are in the sink waiting for me, and I'm doing whatever possible to avoid them. Too bad I can't just rescue the dishes, then run outside and have a hot fireman help me out of my misery.

hahahahhahahahahhahahahhahahahahahah.... Ok. Here I go. Wish me luck.

P.S. (I have a feeling only Monica and Cathie will understand me right now)

Crappy Story (reader's discretion advised)

If you don't like stories about poop, then don't read today ok. I once read a really funny short story about a guy who went into a bathroom at a party just to find a big log in the toilet that wouldn't flush, and had to devise a plan to get rid of it before the people behind him in line thought it was his. (it was funny... I promise)

The other night when we were walking, Alex watched some lady very neatly pick up her dog's crap, and said how he wanted a dog, but would rather not, cuz it would just mean having to clean up another piece of poop each day. Se la vie.

And all this leads to offspring #2. (I'll take your word if you decide to leave an anonymous comment for me to delete this post if it offends anyone K?)

So... yeah... it all started when one day a few months ago, #2 (aka Effie, Rosey, Goo Goos, the Destructor) had that smirk on her face. I knew it was her "time", so I left her in peace, in her room, to do her business - in her diaper. While I was in the other room with Celia, I decided to go check on the kid to see if she was ready for a diaper change. To my surprise, I saw an empty, opened diaper on the floor. As I kept looking, and calling for my Effie, I saw a piece of shit on the floor.

"What the?"

The piece of crap led to another small pebble, which then led to the bathroom, where to my surprise I saw Effie literally shoving shit into the toilet. She was SO proud of herself, emptying her own diaper into the toilet and trying to flush it down with her soggy dirty hands.

Yeah, gross, I know. You might think this was a sign of her being ready to be potty trained, and I'm sure it was, but she's 1, (almost 2 now) and it was a bit of a shock. Since then, I no longer give her privacy to do her business, and immediately take charge when she's done so she doesn't get the silly idea of "independence" again.

Luckily, after that we had no more poopy adventures in our house. Thank God. But this past week, we decided to take a trip to Palm Desert. Upon packing for the trip, I went out to get a fresh bag of swimmy diapers so as not to let the little crapper have any accidents in someone else's pool. (This past summer she has been notorious for getting the "urge" to go while swimming, and since she's smart and tells me, I've been able to pick her up and send her home to do her "thing").

Anyhow... soo... while at the swimmy pool I realized she had the look of nature calling in her eyes. I picked her up, and yup, she did her thing in the pool, but luckily she had that "swimmy" diaper on, so I was in the clear. (so I thought)

I ran over and yelled at Alex who was busy playing Pole Position or something like that in the game room, and said "Code Red!" "We've got a big one here!" - wait a minute... I didn't say that.. I think I really said "Hey, come here and watch Celia while I change Effie".

He came and I decided to take off Effie's bathing suit to change her poolside as I was prepared with wipes, dipes, etc etc...

I took off her bathing suit and ... plop. A big soggy crap the size of a baseball falls onto the floor. Woops! I did my best to pick it up as neatly as that lady did picking up after her dog on that walk the other day, and put it in the trash. I left behind a tiny piece of something stinky on the floor and yelled at Alex to figure something out and pick it up while I ran off with a stinky kid who needed her bathing suit to be doused in bleach or something.

She stunk, was wet, and gross, and I ran into the hotel lobby/game room/nice hallway area and got us to the showers. (yeah, this place was fancy. I thought I'd have to bathe the kid in a sink, but there was a locker room thingy) ok ok ok. I know this is getting long, but I've come this far so just hang in there... or not.

So I wash the child. Wash the bathing suit. Wash myself. All clear.... then I go outside.

"Where the hell is Alex and Celia???? Crap! They bailed!" Well, they didn't bail, but Celia wanted to swim in the big pool, so there they were. Meanwhile, a new family made it to the baby pool where the disaster occurred.

"Alex! Did you pick up the little leftovers?"

"Yeah"

"With what?"

"With a napkin I found on the floor."

"Is it gone?"

"I think so"

Safe... (again, so I thought)

While we were swimming in the big pool Effie starts to freak out. With her semi-sign language / grunting, she tells me she wants to go back to the baby pool. So we head back. But as we are about to head over, I see the hotel officials. (Maybe they were just some cleaning ladies, but all of a sudden they looked like the FBI to me) They were investigating "something".

I forced Effie to stay in the big pool with me while I watched them like some criminal hiding in a bush. The next thing I see is one of the ladies leaving, then bringing back a man with...... plastic gloves!

"Oh SHIT!" "Alex must not have picked up the leftovers!" Well, he did, and it was strange, cuz the plastic gloves man was looking in the pool while little kids were swimming, then they left.

What the heck were they looking for? Did someone see something? Were we on camera? Did someone report a smell? Could there have been a big bug in the pool that needed to be removed? Why were they there? I had no idea, but Effie's crappy moment was making too much excitement for us. Either way, she still insisted on going back, so we did, and as she swam I inspected the area, and did not find any remains of evidence, but it was a little ranky smelling.

To end this shitty story, Celia and Alex came back to the little pool with us, we swam, and while no one was around, we decided to make a run for it back to LA before anyone else came outside. We took the back route as to not enter the building and made it home in the clear. Damn those swimmy diapers. Next time I buy them I'm buying size "teeny tiny" so that nothing can slip out the sides, or I'll take Lety's advice to put some masking or duct tape around her thighs to attach that swimmy diaper to her body!

X.T. Update

Our X.T. (christmas tree) is still outside and it has officially changed colors again, from green (to begin with), to light brown, then to yellow (six months later) and to red (the color it is now). It's still in our driveway and my neighbors just sent their congratulations for finally getting rid of it. They were very proud. I then told them to read my blog, because I have no shame.

Effie has become quite the little Kamikaze jumper this week. She did a nose dive from the baby slide in the backyard (that I purposely moved onto the grass to avoid her falling, but it was still near the cement) onto the concrete which scratched her nose up. Everyone we see keeps asking her who beat her up or who bit her. The next day at the park she decided to walk right into a pole which then aggravated her nose yet again. (a curly haired little Jewish girl with her Mexican nanny walked up to me and asked in one of those real cute baby voices "wha happen to your niña?", after having asked Effie 10 times. Since Effie did not respond [because she's slightly mute], she tried me.) Yesterday she tried doing the same acrobatic leap from a slide about 6 feet higher. Today she decided to run down the driveway 142 times to me, and on the 141th run, she ate it and tasted the concrete again, splitting open her nasty scab that already made her look a little like a baby bear. I have been tempted all week to draw whiskers on her face so people won't think I have been beating her up and so she'd just look like a cute animal. Now it's worse, and as she sleeps I am lathering her snout in Neosporin.

As for our 1st born, she has not done anything funny enough worth posting that I can think of at this time. Have a great weekend. I'm looking forward to mine. Are you? Peace out fools.

Heaven

Some people reading this blog may have had the same CCD (catechism, religious education) teacher as I did. His name was Bill. I'm not sure what his last name was, Mr.... something, but anyway, Bill was a greasy haired nut.

I always remember him teaching us with an exceptionally loud tone of voice. He scared the crap out of me. On some occasions I even argued with him, like the time he told me I was going to hell cuz I loved my Mom more than God. Woops! Even though he was nuts, he was definitely my favorite CCD teacher, and the only one I can remember. I even remember (even though I was 12) some of the things he taught us. Between cigarettes, I remember him telling us:

"You wanna know who's gonna get into heaven?"

"People who get their hands dirty".

hmmm.. I thought. Mechanics got a straight shot!.

He said:

"When you die, and walk up before God, he's gonna say - 'let me see your hands'. (I always imagine Snow White asking to see the Dwarf's hands at this point) If your hands are clean, perty, nice, and soft, tough luck! It's gonna be the hard workers, the ones who got DIRTY that are gonna walk through heaven's gates!"

I tend to think about this every night while I do the dishes. If Mr... Moore!! (I just remembered - Mr. Moore) Yeah, so if Mr. Moore was right, I won't even have to knock at the door, cuz my hands are JACKED up from washing so many dishes. They are all tough, I have calluses, and they are lookin' more like a 60 something-year-old's hands than a 29 year olds. These hands are sure torn up. I just better show up before I wash the suds off.