motherloderadio

COUNTDOWN

admin — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 03:24:10 +0000

So, the week DID improve. I suppose my leveling out on the detox helped and the shock of the kids being SO HERE ALL THE TIME wore off and we made it through. At one point, though, I did get into a Facebook argument with some friend of a friend re’ Blogs. Her opinion was that they’re self-serving drivel and are public diaries that are only for attention getting…

You understand that this was NOT the week for me to encounter her.

Anyway- I DID resist hijacking my friend’s page to school her assanine pal- which I will go ahead and congratulate myself on. It’s no small affair for me to practice restraint of pen and tongue. Now, I know she’s not reading this but- just to defend; Many blogs ARE self-serving, belly-button gazing online grabs for attention and I will go so far as to admit to some of that from mine as well but- for the most part, I consider this blog a PUBLIC SAFETY SERVICE. See, without the option to publicly (or at least to you 3 loyal readers) vent my frustrations, fears, triumphs and shortcomings… I might kill someone. Or go publicly, scarily, audibly insane in the housewares aisle of Target. (TANGENT: JESUS, I’m SO pissed that they support a homophobe and that I can’t shop there- I NEED THAT PLACE. COME ON!) Anyway- this blog is… My Church. I work it out here. I mull it over, twist it up, spit it out, mosh it through and come out on the other side after writing here. I can proceed as a better wife, friend, parent and citizen of the World for having written…Not only that but, thus far- three different doctors have referred their breast cancer, mastectomy and reconstructive patients to it as a written reference to see what goes on in someone experience… So, suck it Mrs. Opinion- you don’t know shit.

Moving on. This week we went to an open house/kindergarden Meet n’ Greet and today, a picnic for Max’s class that he’ll be starting on Wednesday. (THANK GOD… Literally.) Doug and I are the “Friendly, fun Purdys.”. See, this is our role. Not too close, but not aloof. We got so spanked by adopting “Preschool Parent BFF’S” at Laurel that we’re very… cautious about maintaining our boundaries now. Acquaintances= OK. BFF’S= Drama and inevitable heartache. So, the fellow parents seemed very nice. We’re wondering if they may be a bit… conservative under the friendly handshakes and chatter but the picnic today was loose and easy. I actually really enjoyed a couple of the Moms. Not enough for sleepovers, but enough. The thing is- this is Catholic School and we’ll be in class with these people for the next 9 years… We better not piss everyone off right out of the gate.

Bitter Sweet

admin — Wed, 18 Aug 2010 03:41:48 +0000

Okay- so about that lovely weekend? It got drop-kicked and then sucker punched by this week. Monday was alright- not as bad on the sugar detox- as in, I wasn’t simmering with barely contained rage but today… MAN. Now, the kids have been INSANE for 2 weeks now. Bickering, whining, tantrums and a LOT of random deafness where I find myself repeating myself for the 80th time- either with an “icky voice” or right up in their grills…
Well- today it was as if EVERYONE I encountered had taken a sip from the same juice box.
YES- IT COULD BE MY PATIENCE, DUE TO THE SUGAR WITHDRAWL- YES- I’M NOT TOTALLY DELUSIONAL. FINE.

Having conceeded that… I think it was them.

Here’s to a better Wednesday.

solstice

admin — Sun, 15 Aug 2010 21:43:41 +0000

Am in the midst of a lovely summer weekend. Max is learning to ride his 2 wheeler- which is a glorious, tear envoking experience to watch and Scout is busy yelling at her tricycle for not co-operating. Have been to 3 different pools and on our way to another. Doug is cramming in work but manages to escape in time to hang with us for the good parts and relieve me when 2 kids full time gets too… too.
I feel like I need to make a move- creatively or physically- as in a tri-athalon or some such challenge but I feel a bit static on both fronts… Well see- of course- these always seem like GREAT ideas in the middle of the afternoon… come 8:30pm, post boot camps and kids and life… not so much. We
We’ll see.

SIEVE

admin — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 02:16:05 +0000

… our bank account, that is. Doug and I are currently trying to bounce back from yet another “Balance shock” from the ATM. Seems as soon as we put it in, it’s gone. I feel like we’re on this “treading water treadmill”, just keeping our heads (Barely) above water and can’t seem to get ahead. Our only immediate defense (short of robbing a bank which I did- consider- then ruled out due to my crap luck and a spastic streak) is to work harder. We’re trying to build up the groups but everyone is feeling it. We can’t afford to advertise because every single dollar goes into keeping us afloat and everyone is feeling the pinch… A little less apt to shell out money (even our cheap rate) for muffin-top removal these days…
What to do? Nothing. I wouldn’t even mention it on the blog because it’s been such a S.O.P. for us these past 3 years but today was just one of those days. Neither of us could “cheerlead”. We were both taken aback. It’s usual for one to rally the other so we can fight another day and today… We were both stuck behind the bleachers. Tomorrow is another day. I get to hang with the kids all day at a lagoon/beach which does wonders for being in my head. It also does wonders for my serenity… as in removes it.
A quick note: my children have decided that since we have the next 3 weeks all together- with no camp, no school… to go insane. The bickering is at a maximum. The whining, (For some reason, Max believes that since his camp fed him raw, refined sugar all day that we should just continue that…) the crankiness, the boundary pushing… WOOO! HEY SUMMER?! THANKS FOR VISITING- WISH YOU COULD STAY BUT DON’T LET THE DOOR HIT YA ON THE WAY OUT.

(Yes, I’m already tired… But, again, tomorrow’s another day.)

BATTLES WON & LOST

admin — Sun, 08 Aug 2010 01:14:31 +0000

In reference to Max’s “Prom” at camp. He dressed himself- see pix and was the coolest customer around. When I picked him up he said, “It wasn’t even a partner thing, Mama- it was just everyone dancing.” He survived. One down 800 more possible heartbreaks to go. I don’t know if I can take it. He’s entering Kindergarten this month and I am tempted to secretly teach him a bunch of “techniques” to get by. See, when you’re a small, insane drunk like myself- with a mouth like mine and the impulse control of a 2 year old- you end up getting the crap beat out of you… A lot. So, I developed some “coping skills” along the way. One, I learned how to take a beating and still down a shot with two swollen lips and a black eye. ( Bendy Straws) Dignity-schmignity. Two: Fight Dirty. See, when you’re 5′ none and you “call out” a 6′ drunken frat guy you better have something to bring to the table. ANYWAY- I am tempted to pass on some of my knowledge to my son, in order to better arm him for the pending playground injustices that he may encounter. Among them: WEAK POINTS: These being the kneecaps, the Adam’s apple and the bridge of the nose.( Especially in those little 5-6 year olds.) Just enough pressure to make your point. That plus a STRONG OPENING: Like Max goes out to his first RECESS, walks up to the BIGGEST KID and knocks him senseless with an Ironman lunch box filled with frozen juice boxes. Then, stand over said big kid and announce: “I’M MAX PURDY- ANYONE GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT?!” I’m thinking recess and prison “time on the yard” aren’t all that different, just smaller players.

…Of course my husband is onto these desires and has ruled them out as “Possible overlkill.” That, plus the fact that my kid is a gentle love of a boy. More concerned with “What’s fair” than anyone I know… But, there’s still Scout.

YES, I’M OLD.

admin — Fri, 06 Aug 2010 21:20:29 +0000

If it weren’t for NPR I’d be a complete blathering, quivering, slack-jawed wet brain.
With it, I’m usually just blathering. (I LOVE YOU IRA GLASS!!)

RITES OF PASSAGE??

admin — Fri, 06 Aug 2010 08:17:22 +0000

Anyway- this came up on Monday but I’m only now writing on it because… there’s a lot of bad T.V. out there. (Yeah- like I’m gonna say I was writing or finding the latest Newberry Award Book for my kids…) Anyway- it’s Max’s last week of summer camp this week. It’s been fun. It’s through Burbank Parks & Rec, which we’ve know & liked cause it’s cheap but all heart. Kinda ghetto, yes, but fun. Every week they went someplace fab like Magic Mountain, Knotts, Aquarium, etc. But then also had these ridiculous things like “Walk to 7-11. ” I’m not kidding. And the JUNK FOOD??!! Really?! Now, I’m pretty leanient but, the day that Max came home and described his “sushi”- a rice crispy treat, flattened, with skittles, gummy worms and pixie sticks poured on top- then rolled it up and ate it- even I gagged. But, he’s having a blast- comes home exhausted and filthy and wanting more. Anyway- Max comes home on Monday and says he doesn’t want to go to camp on Friday. We ask questions and learn it’s gonna be a “Prom” where all the campers dress funky and dance and play. Max says he asked 3-4 girls if they would be “My Partner”, and they all shot him down. (”BITCHES”, I’m thinking. I resist the impulse to corner them and tell them how they aren’t worthy enough to sniff his farts but, DO manage some restraint.) Doug and I are alarmed. Even though all the counselors are teenagers- (so teenagery that they still do that weird, teenager hug where you hold your arms straight the whole time and round your back) and their MAIN focus in life is PROM and “hooking up” and sexting or whatever the fuck they do after they do that contorted hug thing- but for 5-6 year olds??? Really? Anyway- I sed Doug in the next morning- he’s the diplomat, I am the psycho- to question it. He returns saying that the whole “boy/girl/partner” thing was NEVER a part of it- it was started by the girls (GOD- we SUCK) who were older and flew through the ranks leaving the younger, untainted boys, literally dizzy with confusion and dismay. Apparently we weren’t the 1st parents to call it out. Anyway, they talked to all the kids, re-iterating the fun, group, NON-COUPLE nature of the event but Max is still adamant. I am fine with it and so is Doug. We hardly need to rush him into impending heartbreak before he needs to be. Well, today, when he leaves camp, one of his teen dude counselors says “See ya tomorrow, Max?”, I look up, ready to explain when Max says, “Yep!”. I ask Max about it and he says “Oh, yeah- I wanna go. The C.I.T’s said it’s NOT a partner thing, it’s a ‘Peacebuilder’ thing and besides, I wanna have a mohawk for it.”

Well, there you go. I am still nervous though. I just want him to stay innocent as long as possible. I KNOW little girls- I spent YEARS trying to avoid their tyranny by being a tomboy, an outcast, a drunk, a puncher of grown ‘little girls’… I just want his experience perfect. I know I can’t do that and need to let him do it himself but- OH MAN it’s so hard. Please, please let there be a couple- or ONE cute C.I.T’s who see his awesomeness and hang with him. If not for props from his peers than for sheer warm-blooded armor against the maurading hoards that are little girls… Fingers crossed.

TINY BLESSINGS

admin — Fri, 06 Aug 2010 07:44:47 +0000

So, this may be a double post because the following event deserves it’s own acknowledgement. Anyway, after my boot camps, the kids and I run into the bank this afternoon and we all had lollipops- see, this is a Mommy tactic. They’re small enough to not be too off-the-richter, sugar-wise, yet, should buy me enough time to get through a limited deposit before they end up under the New Accounts Guy’s desk… Anyway- I’m filling out my deposit slip and notice an older couple at a window. They’re both midgets. (Dwarves, I learned via the internet, are where the body parts are disproportionate. These 2 weren’t. They looked like cute, old little cake toppers.) Anyway- I think ‘Oh crap, what are the kids gonna…” No sooner had I thought it than Max is grinning ear-to-ear and pointing directly at them. Gotta nip this one in the bud. ‘Max, you know how some people are really, really tall?” “Yeah” “Well, people come in all different shapes and sizes and some people are really small as well, get it.” “Sure” (Still pointing and staring) “So, if you were really, really tall or small, would you want someone pointing at you wherever you went?” “Yeah!” Okay, plan B; Try to get through this without him mortifying me. But, to his credit, they WERE really cute and they were exactly his height. We get called to the window next to them and I notice there’s a photographer chick just snapping pix of them willy-nilly. Initially I thought, oh, they’re suing the bank . (Sad state of the times) and documenting discrimination or some shit. But I continue to our window, dragging the goofy-grinning 6 year old behind me. (Scout was too consumed with her lollipop, thank God.) I overhear “Oh, look, they’ve all got LOLLIPOPS” I ‘m thinking’ BFD- you never lapsed in your parenting before?” But we get there and as I wait for the teller to compute my 3.5 dollars of deposit the gentleman- CUTE AS A BUTTON- turns to me and says “You got some good lookin’ boy there.” “Thanks”, I say, I turn CHUCKLES THE PUNCH-DRUNK BOY around- “Say ‘Hello’, Max.” Max, says hello. “She’s a doll as well” (Re; Scout the Blue Tounged Mute.) “Thanks”. The woman (CUTE, CUTE- where the hell do you get ‘grown up’ clothes that small???) leans over and says, “Do you know who this is?” (Re; the man) “This is the Lollipop kid, from the Wizard of Oz”. He’s the one who handed Dorothy the Lollipop. He’s one of the last surviving Munchkins.” (He grins-) “Hi, I’m Jerry”.
Max is grinning- but now it’s with true recognition. The Wizard of Oz is one of his faves- the first movie he ever sang along to, the first soundtrack I downloaded at his request, to listen to in the car… I, OF COURSE, immediately start crying. It was just one of those things. The movie meant something to me and my family and meeting someone who made an impression on my kids is a big deal- let alone one of “the last” of his kind. There’s a lot of “Awws” and the photog is just SNAPPING AWAY. I ask if I can hug him. (I have huggers tourettes, random assaults on people when I’m emotional. Goes over great with those with personal space issues or OCD) Anyway, I hg him, Max hugs him and Scout glances up from her Lollipop. He’s 95 years old and he looks AMAZING… on a smaller scale? Having made yet another scene- Max: “Sometimes my Mom ‘Happy Cries’. She’s really okay, though.”- I try and get outta there. The photog WON’T STOP TAKING PIX THOUGH. She stops us and says she’s on assignment with the WASHINGTON (F-ING) POST and doing a story on the last Munchkin. Click, click, click. Now, allow me to paint a brief picture for you; I have just taught 2 bootcamps in 89 degree weather, wrangled 2 kids, cleaned half a house and run into the bank with NO MAKEUP, stinky, I’m sure, with a BLUE tongue and now have tears streaming down my face. (Let’s keep in mind also, that I cry alot like a toddler- with facial contortions and lots of snot and hiccups… No ‘Demi Moore dewy teardrop’ here) and she just keeps TAKING MY PICTURE! She asks if she can get our names and a quote. I comply, making jokes about if she could possibly photoshop Amber Valetta in beside my kids for print… Ha, ha, ha- no REALLY. WE walk out and Max goes on and on about how he wants “Jerry” to take him to Munchkin Land – or “where they made that” and maybe hang out with him again…

So, even though I looked a HOT, SCREAMING mess, runny nose, blue tongue, no makeup and sweat stains… At least, next to Jerry- I looked REALLY tall.

HERO

admin — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 20:04:09 +0000

.
In honor of his birthday today and since he’s IMPOSSIBLE to buy for, this post is for my husband.

DOUGLAS BENTON PURDY IS:

The man who managed to bring me out of my self-imposed “penis embargo” and somehow won my heart in one moment when he showed up for a shoot, still drunk from the previous night, with egg and oatmeal in his hair from a 3am foodfight with his room mate and 2 Brazilian chicks, walked up to me and said ‘What do you need?’ Then promptly dropped trou. (I was done for from that moment on)

The one who can still take me from 0-60 with one kiss.

The man I had a dream wedding and honeymoon with because we laughed and cried the whole time.

The guy who managed to stick around 10 years in spite of my OCD, naggy days, bad haircuts, morning breath, controlling tendencies, impulse control and gas and STILL tell me I’m sexy.

The person who I willingly handed both my babies over to with nothing but complete trust and faith after 2 c-sections.

The one who makes me laugh the hardest I have in my life.

The guy who doesn’t care much about hygiene.

The one I call first with good or bad news.

All heart, loyalty and goodness.

The one who will sacrifice EVERYTHING to take care of us… and has. Every time.

Not a bad singer, actually.

The type of man I want my son to grow up like and my daughter to marry.

The one I think of when I fantasize.

The one who looked under the bandages after my mastectomy, when I was too afraid, and told me, truthfully, “It looks good. It’s okay…” And it was.

The one who NEEDS to watch PREDATOR 2 until 3am but only makes it 12 minutes in.

Not at all concerned with the condition of his socks or underwear.

The central player in all my best memories.

The most AMAZING daddy I have ever seen in action.

The one guy who still wanted to have sex with me when I was pregnant with Max and looked like “The White Rerun” from “What’s Happening”
Ridiculously talented, even if he doesn’t believe it.

The first one I saw coming out of all my surgeries. Ever present, diligent, courageous and funny.

He is my “Lloyd Dobler”, my “Cowboy Dan”, my rock, my Knight, my baby-daddy, my partner, my road-dog… My Best Friend Forever.

…And he’s really old.

Happy Birthday my Gorgeous, Spastic, Ridiculous, Sexy, Loyal, Beautiful Man…

GOOD DAY

admin — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 20:28:11 +0000

Quick check in between boot camps: Today, thus far: good. We are getting a hand with tuition expenses from my step mom- who has saved our hineys on more than one occasion as well as provided the most sane representative of our extended clan. My gratitude knows no bounds. In facing the oncoming year of 2 tuition checks- totaling almost 1000 a month (The more expensive of which is PRESCHOOL. REALLY? For finger painting??? REALLY?- but we’ll save my rage at the US educational disaster for another day- FOCUS…) and- back to goooooddd… The help means more than we can say. It will give us the ability to (slowly) dig ourselves out of this credit card debit on our own. No more shady re-fi dudes.
The next good news: my MRI came back clear. Dr. Sean’s words were” Looks great!” Whew. Not that I was freaking out just… curious. In that constant low-level anxiety that you can get “curious” whenever you’re a cancer survivor. Having known what it feels like to be on the end of a “Not great” results phone call, every positive one counts that much more.
So- even though we’re only half way through- I’m gonna go ahead and call this particular Wednesday= GOOD.