Yes, I admit it. I have been so caught up with work, little kid stuff, big kid stuff, and life in general, that I have totally been slack with visiting my favorite blogs.

Expect a visit from me today or tonight. I have a lot of catching up to do.

Happy Birthday Wishes to one of my best friends….. thanks for always making me laugh. You’re a great friend, a terrific Mom, and one of my most “favorite-ist” people in the whole world. You deserve a ton of happiness. This is going to be your decade!

Please stop by Misty’s, and wish her a happy 30th b’day!

Something in the news that made me smile.

My son, Ethan, is an enormous Star Wars aficionado, with a very inter-active imagination. There was a time in his life when he insisted he was Anikan Skywalker. My husband and I were always deemed other characters, as necessary, to fill the plot of his imagination.

Ethan has a collection of Star Wars figures that would shame most adult collectors. He has both the current line, and the original figures. As a child, my husband had a similar interest, and had every figure and spaceship made. Luckily his father kept all the toys and sent them to Ethan several months ago. Ethan spends hours setting up elaborate scenes from the movies, and creating dialogue between the characters.

I kid you not when I tell you that his expertise regarding characters/episodes/timelines rivals that of any adult Star Wars fanatic. He is obsessed, to say the least.

He is constantly telling us that he is from the future. I seriously hope that this is his active imagination, and not a sign of the condition of his future sanity.

The other night we were reminding him of the importance of going to pee before you hit the bed:

Adam: Good night, buddy.
Ethan: Good night, Daddy.
Adam: Be sure and go to the bathroom before you go to bed.
Ethan: I am from the future.
Adam: OK, but go pee.
Ethan: I am from the future. In the future we do not have to pee.

I guess through all his watching and obsessing, he did realize one thing…there is no way in hell you could get all that gear off to go pee.

I’ve read that Old Spice is making a huge comeback with college-aged men and men in their 20s. Old Spice, the scent of almost all Daddies during the late 60s and early 70s.

I haven’t thought of, or smelled. Old Spice in years. Once I read about the comeback, a vivid memory of my Dad, looking movie star handsome in his suit and white starched shirt, leaning over my bed to kiss me good bye, his neck smelling of just-splashed Old Spice, quickly entered my mind. He was my hero.

Each Christmas my gift to my Dad was some sort of Old Spice product. A bottle of cologne, a shaving mug and brush (the lost art of latering up with a brush is another story), a bar of soap. Each Christmas I felt the same anticipation, and each Christmas he smiled the same pleased-as-punch smile.

One Christmas I made the huge mistake of veering off-track, and purchasing Hi-Karate. My Dad wore it a couple of times, but went right back to using his Old Spice. I knew I had made a poor decision, and for Father’s Day, along with the traditional gift of a Banlon shirt and Bermuda shorts, I also added a bottle of Old Spice.

Father’s Day isn’t too far off. I already know what one of my Dad’s gifts will be. A bottle of Old Spice. I can’t wait to give him a hug, the first time he wears it, and remember that smell all over again.

Tonight I had to do a quick Target run for Ike and Cujo. They needed a new bag of Beneful Healthy Weight.

I walk up to the Ten Items or Less lane, and start to pick the bag up to make it easier for the clerk to scan. With frantic gestures, she motions for me to leave the bag in the cart. My total shows up on the register screen, and rather than say $20.32, she turns it toward me, and sharply points her finger at the screen. I give her the money, and she hands me my change. Not a word was exchanged. Nothing. No hello, no how are you and no thank you for shopping at Target.

My first instinct was to snatch her up by her scraggly ass head and say, “Bitch, I ought to go complain about you” and then I thought to myself, “Hey, Target’s hiring the vocally impaired. That’s really cool. I love to see equal oppotrunity employment in action.” I was starting to feel a little better about my rude treatment.

All that changed rather quickly as I put my cart up, glanced backward and noticed that MY clerk was having quite the animated coversation with one of her co-workers. Had I not been in such a hurry to get home tonight I would have run over there and GONE OFF.

Really, is it too much to ask the Target clerk to be just a little pleasant?

Ethan and Kaiden (Misty’s daughter)celebrated Valentine’s Day with a Valentine Dance at school yesterday. Sucky parents that we are, neither Misty or I could leave work at 9:45 a.m to make it to the 10:00 a.m. dance. Luckily, I was able to get a few pictures before the big dance. Do these two look even remotely nervous over their first school dance?

While grocery shopping the other night, I came across a kitchen gadget that I’d never seen before. At first glance, I immediately thought it looked like some sort of sex toy. Picking it up, and reading the package, confirmed my initial impression.

Last night I had some errands to run. I really didn’t feel like cooking last night, which is pretty much how I feel most nights. Plus, I had already done my cooking for the day. Misty was over earlier in the day, and we made 48 cupcakes for the Wave Valentine Day Dance Party.

I was driving around town trying to decide what to bring home, and decided to stop by a Chinese Take-Out that I’d never been to. The place was in Great Neck Shopping Center; about 2 miles form my house. It’s in a nice part of town, and I figured trying it wouldn’t be too daring. The name of the place gave me the needed encouragement, and so I pulled up to No. 1 Chinese.

I walked in and placed my order:

1 large order No. 703 – General Chicken
1 large order No 245 – Szechuan Chicken
1 large order No. 325 – Vegetable Lo Mein
1 small order No. 407 – Pepper Steak

The place was hopping. I knew I had made the right decision. As far as the food was concerned…

The place was small. There were three booths, two small tables and a bench. I sat on the bench, and decided to get in my people watching dose for the day.

A woman sat alone at one booth, munching on fried rice and sipping a Diet Coke. A middle-aged, greasy-looking guy sat at another booth with his daughter, who might have been twelve-years-old. She was wearing way too much black eye liner and blue eye shadow, which did nothing to serve the purpose she intended it to do; to make her look older.

As I was people watching, I began to notice the other things in the dining/ordering area. In one corner there was a portable crib with big puffy quilts. There was also a stroller, a big wheel and some other toys. Two Chinese children, between the ages of three and six played on the floor. On the dirty floor. I watched as the youngest child, a boy, got up and started messing with the magazines that the man and his daughter were reading. They would turn a page, and he would turn it back. I could see the annoyance in the man’s face. Less than a minute later the boy began to shriek for no apparent reason. Then he got up, and moved to the booth the woman was sitting in. He sat across from her, and with a piece of paper rolled up like a horn, blew air at her about two inches from her face, while making a loud honking noise. The woman just sat there stunned.

As if that weren’t enough for the woman to deal with, the girl then decided to join in. She grabbed a small 3-inch toy, a plastic figurine of some sort, and hurled it at the boy’s head, which was already covered in bruises, just missing the woman’s face. The boy reached across the table, and lodged it back at the girl. Since this toy wasn’t big enough, she picked up another, larger toy and threw it. This went on for a few minutes, until they tired of the game. No one said a thing. The children were loud, and the woman behind the counter obviously heard them, but no one said a thing. I sat there holding the laughter in because it was funny, they weren’t my kids, and the adults that were eating at the booths just sat there as these kids played practically on top of them. It was funny.

A few minutes later, my food was ready. The kids continued to ride big wheels, throw toys and yell as I walked out the door, and other people walked in. As I drove home I couldn’t help but have mixed feelings. Should I call social services and report these people for keeping two young children confined in a small area from morning until night? Or should I pat them on the back for caring so much for their children that they were willing to find some a business where they could bring their young children to work with them? Or should I just forget about them until the next time I pop into No. 1 Chinese? Which I will, because the food was damn good.

Today you broke my daughter’s heart. Today I went from liking you to reverting back to my younger years, and turning into vindictive ex-girlfriend.

You are being warned. Do not call my house. Do not come over. Do not think that I will take your side. I don’t care how much of a bitch she can be. (And we all know she can be) She is my daughter, and right now, the only thing that matters is that you made her cry.

Ask the last boyfriend. I can throw out comments that reduce grown men to tears. I dig deep enough to make it hurt the most. I know your weakest spots.

Stay far away. Leave her alone. Do not play games with my daughter’s heart. And just so you know…she does have a little bit of her mother in her.

Love always,

The Mother LIon