Argh-is that how it's spelled?

I sometimes wonder how things will turn out. Like, life wise. I know first hand that things can change in a blink of an eye and what you think is long term, isn't necassarily so.
All my life I have had an "ideal" of what and how I wanted my life to turn out. I did want to be married to an amazing man and have children, so those things are accounted for. I never, in a million years, thought I would be changing my carrer at 33 years old. I remember going to city college and looking around the classroom. There were people of all walks of life and ages continuing their education, whether that was to get a pay raise or to do what I am doing. I always thought to myself that I would pick a career I loved and I wouldn't have to go to school again. Yeah, right! Sad thing is I loved my career, but my career didn't love me.
So, here I am, the oldest person in the freshman, part-time evening class at Federico's. Let's just put this in perspective, I am older than my instructor.
On top of feeling old, my family has been in a funk. David is so tired that he gets up to eat breakfast at noon and then proceeds to go back to sleep until he has to get ready to go to work. Gavin is toying with his individuality and has taken to the wonderful land of arguing. Quinten follows what older brother does, but when he is about to get in trouble, he professes his love to whoever is doing the disciplining. I am tired, irritated and short tempered.
I do have soemthing to look forward to this week. David and I are going to Sudz in the City and drinking beer together on Saturday. I am even getting my first spray tan on Friday. I don't know how happy I am gonna be standing virtually naked in front of a stranger, but that's how it works and beggars can't be choosers. Maybe a date is all I need, you know some quality time with my #1. We haven't had a date since October.

Bugs

Last night, the boys were in the tub, when Quinten announced that he had to go number two. So I get him out of the tub and sit him on the toilet. In order to stay warm, I placed a towel over his shoulders. The towel had just come in off the line in the backyard. So I walk out of the bathroom and head to the kitchen to clean up. All of a sudden I hear this ear piercing scream. Quinten is freaking out. I ran in the bathroom and there is a bug on his towel and he is screaming at the top of his lungs. I flick it off the towel and step on it. Quinten is crying and carrying on. I put him back in the tub so he can finish his bath.
When it is time to get out, I tried to use the same towel on Quinten. He cried again and told me that he didn't want that towel. I tried to show him that there were no more bugs and he screamed, "No, it has bugs on it! Get me the other one!". Yikes!
So when it is time for bed, I tried putting them to sleep. Gavin goes right to bed, but Quinten tells me that there are bugs in his bed and that he isn't gonna sleep there. He marches to my bed, where he falls asleep.
When I came to bed, I put him back in his bed so I could have a comfortable sleep without any limbs jammed in my back. In the middle of the night Gavin called for me for some water. While I was there, I checked on Quinten, who wasn't in his bed. I looked in the living room for him with no luck and finally noticed that he was in bed with me and I didn't notice. That kid wouldn't even sleep in his bed he was so freaked out about the bug. Just for the record, it wasn't a dangerous bug. I hope he forgets by tonight.

A toe? Really?

Yesturday I needed some "me" time, so around 12:30, I told David he was on kid duty with Quinten while I ran some errands.
I left and hit Macy's (to return shoes!), Cosmo Prof (to get a new rattail comb), and to JoAnne's to make a sign for our door that reads "Need help? Call the Police. We had another enighbor come over for advise. So muh for having time away from work, but that's another blog.
When I get home, Quinten is sitting with his babysitter-the T.V. and the lazy old man is asleep on the couch. Mind you I had only been gone for an hour. That was a really quick shopping trip!
David gets up about 2:30 so he can get ready for work. As he is getting ready, he tells me that he stubbed his tow outside on the metal chair, which has been in the same location since we moved here. He said his toe hurt but it wasn't anything serious.
So he gets ready and leaves and I go pick up Gavin. When he is almost to work he calls and tells me that his toe is really sore. He said that he couldn't put any weight on it, or it throbbed in pain. I told him to take his boot off and take a look. He did and found it was bruised and swollen. He let his Sergeant know that he couldn't work and came home to go to the Doctor.
I was a mess. First off David hasn't seen a Dr for awhile and we didn't have one in Fresno yet. Finally, I called the boys Pediatrican and asked for a referral. So he gets home and we head out to the Doctor's office. David tells me that I need to relax and I agree, making a quick joke about how it's good he wasn't giving birth-which now that I think about it, may not have been a bad idea.
We waited about 2 hours, but in between we got X-rays and the actual visit. The Doctor, who turns out to be a washed out hippie, who looks like he grows mrijuana in his backyard, tells David that he sees three lines in his toe, but refuses to tell him it's fractured. Why is it such a big deal? He tells him to ice it, tape it and elevate it. He gives David three days on light duty-which is taking telephonic reports in an office for three days and okay's him to go back to patrol by Sunday.
We get home and after a couple hours, David's toe gets more swollen and turns a beautifl shade of purple. It hurts really bad by then and David is mad. I understand because in this pain, he won't be able to wear shoes.
I am hoping that David calls the Doctor's office back to let them know of the result. I think he needs to stay off of it for the rest of the week and give it a little rest.

My Lack of Estrogen

If anyone knows me, you know that I am really not big on drama or caddy girls. In fact, that was why I choose a "manly" profession in the first place.
So at beauty school on Saturday there was an incident. One of the other students decided to get her hair colored. She was obviously having a bad day and was outside the classroom crying about her boyfriend for a majority of the day. So, I guess she wanted a change and decided to go with n new hair color since you can't change weight or any other major part of your body that quickly.
So another girl pulls her hair through a cap, which is typically done to short hair but this girl had an A-line cut that was shoulder length. The girl already had highlights throughout her hair, including peek-a-boos colored purple.
As I did a weave on one of my friends, I watched as this girl sit under the drier for about 20 minutes. Then, all of a sudden, a lot of commotion started. Instructors started coming to the back classroom and I heard someone say that the girls hair was falling out. I looked over and saw one of the instructors holding a wad of bleach blonde hair. The girl was laying in the chair, with her head still in the sink sobbing. Chunks of her hair were coming off her head, all the parts that had been bleached.
As the drama carried on, more and more people came back to give the girl their condolences and this girl cried, for 3 hours!!
As all of this goes down, I am getting more and more irritated. The girl ended up with a haircut similar to me, which I don't think is that unfortunate, but whatever. She acted like it was the end of the world.
For the next couple hours, maybe it was a half hour, but regardless it felt like hours, the girl sobbed. Seriously? Had she not read in the books we have to buy for $3500, that if you overly process your hair, it fries and in turn can strip it-completely off?! Any person that has colored their hair, knows not to overdo it. The fact that students, that study hair color, didn't know this is beyond me.
All the students gathered around this girl and tried comforting her, while I stood back and (I hate to say it) rolled my eyes. All this estrogen. I felt claustrophobic from it all.
So I left, as quickly as I could. I wanted to get away from all the tears and sorrow, for tomorrow was Mother's Day and I would be pampered, for about 10 minutes, but it's more then normal.
I love learning all about hair and nails and facials and everything else, but the drama....oh the drama. That is what is going to kill me in the end.

Neighborhood drama

After a long day of planting flowers in the backyard, I looked forward to showering and relaxing with my boys. David was at work and I was tired and lazy. We made dinner, got cleaned up, the boys were showered and I had read them a story. Just then the front doorbell rings. What? At 8:30 at night? I opened the door and my firefighter neighbor was standing there. He told me that he was having trouble with one of the neighbors and asked if David was home. I replied "No" and told him to wait so I could get a robe.
I went outside on the front porch to talk to him and noticed the highly intoxicated neighbor arguing with one of the other neighbors on my front lawn. Great! The firefighter, Nick, went on to tell me that this lady is crazy and was drinking and that he had already called the cops. I went up to her and told her to go away and stay inside her house. She told me to mind my own business. As she was talking, all I could see was the beer bottle in her hand. I would take her one second to hit someone in the head with that. I asked her to give my the bottle and she refused. I then grabbed her arm and told her to give me the bottle. She tells me to let go of her. I told her no and that she needed to give me the bottle. She looked at me and asked me, "What if I don't give it to you?" I replied something to the effect of, "I would have to knock your ass out". Let me tell you something. I have experienced a lot of drunk people and everything that that is said to a drunk person, goes in one ear and out the other. The drunk lady gave me the bottle and told me that she would just go home and get another. I replied, "Please do that".
The argument started to escalate between Nick and the drunk and eventually moved to his front yard. Thank goodness. I stood back and talked to the other neighbor Taryn who laughed with me about the neighborhood drama and other problems in the area.
So this morning I get up and walk over to Nick's house to see how it all went after I locked myself in my house. Apparently the tires on both of his vehicles "mysteriously" were slashed sometime during the night. He said that the damage to the one car alone was over $600. Poor guy, but it reminds me to stay I the house and not make that crazy broad come over here. The older I get the less excited I am about any drama. I am hating this move worse and worse by the day. I hope something changes for the better or else we're gonne move to a safer area, like the Tower District.

Caca day

I got up this morning, feeling good. I did my normal routine and then it was time to get the boys ready for church. Normally they are okay with getting dressed, but since this morning they needed a shower, they fought me. The shower itself only took 5 minutes so I don't know what the big deal was. So after the shower, they got dressed, got in the car and we went to church.
Gavin talked the entire way there. He asked questions ranging from dinosaurs to the dog. Finally I told him that I needed to concentrate and drive, although we were parked at a red light.
When we got to church, the boys started getting out of the car and found money in the car door and started to fight over it. I was already feeling fat and didn't like my outfit, which was a little too short for my liking these days, so I over reacted. I grabbed Gavin's arm and pushed him out of the way of the car door so I could shut it so we could start walking. This of course becomes a big deal and Gavin got hit in the eye. The drama is just beginning.
Then we get inside church and they didn't have any of the kids bulletins. We sat down and church began. Soon it was time for children's church, which I escorted the kids to. Quinten had a mental breakdown, but instead of taking him with me like I did last week, I made him stay there and cry while I went to church alone.
So these things for some reason put me in the sourest mood ever. I was grouchy all day and had the worse attitude. It made me feel better to watch the Grey's Anatomy from two weeks ago, which was terribly sad and I cried the whole time. For some reason, crying over a show makes my spirits a little less gloomy. If I understood this, I would explain it to you, but it is unexplainable.
So we ate an early dinner and the boys are in the tub. Hopefully they will be exhausted after this and go to bed so I can lay on the couch and read my latest Us Weekly magazine and have ice cream.

He he!

I have found that I have a guilty pleasure. It really is evil though. I live in the "fancy" part of Fresno. I live here because it's safe (for Fresno), it's new and, most importantly, it's close to my parents.
So as I drive around, I see people in their Mercedes, BMW's and the like. I appreciate these cars, but I have to admit I am a tad bit jealous. God is gonna be mad about that.
So all these rich people, who for the most part, think they are above the law, speed. They speed a lot people. So about three times a week, motorcycle cops sit on Fort Washington at various locations and work their radar. Let me just remind everyone that this is a four lane road that has a 35 MPH speed limit.
Yesturday, my wonderful Mother called to tell me that there were five cops working their radar on Fort Washington, so when I drove to school I wouldn't get a ticket. As I drove down this special street, a motor unit pulled out and stopped a brand new, shiney black Lexus. I smiled, BIG! I was happy to see that.
Today David took Gavin to the Dentist's office and on the way there, he called to let me know that a Range Rover was pulled over by another motorcycle cop. I was happy he told me this.
I have always been a speeder. I used to drive everywhere at about 60 MPH. This has changed, since I turned in my badge and because we can't afford a ticket or our insurance to go up. I know, I am growing up! I know that those Officers are told several times a day, "Do you know who I am?" and "I know Chief Dyer" and on and on. It amazes me how people always think that since they pay taxes and "contribute" (in their minds) they deserve a "get out of jail free" card. Maybe we should all obey the rules of the road and work on our observation skills by watching the posted speed limit!