Actual Texting Convo With OD

We returned from Disney World on Sunday evening, and the kids had yesterday off due to President's Day while I trudged off to work (triple venti skinny caramel macchiato time).  Today, the kids went back to school, and Oldest Daughter has rehearsals for the musical tonight at the high school until about 8 p.m.  I get this text from Oldest Daughter at about 2 p.m.

OD:  Can u bring me fried rice after work?  Didn't bring money.
ME:  Sure.  What to drink?
OD:  Sprite.  And can you bring a t-shirt?
ME:  What do you mean?  You need a new shirt?
OD:  No, a crappy one I can move in. We have dancing rehearsal too.
ME:  I'm not driving home before I deliver your rice.
OD:  Crap.
(Note to self - must discuss overabundance of the word "crap" in this conversation.)
MOM HORMONE KICKS IN.  THIS TOOK THREE TEXTS TO GET IT ALL OUT.
ME:  I'm sorry, but I have to drive YD to the mall to find an outfit for the Variety Show on Fri night, I'm losing my mind over getting the show coordinated, and I'm trying to get caught up at work.  You're going to have to be a little more responsible for your own things at your extra-cirricular activities, because we don't have time to drive all over town delivering food and clothing to you at various satellite locations.  I have shirts at work that say "Bee a Happy Hooker" and that is your option.  Do you want a hooker shirt?  Do you?!
*texting silence*
ME:  Seriously, do you want the hooker shirt or not?  Because that's all I got.  Hooker shirt and fried rice.  I'm out of options.
OD:  No hooker shirt.  I'm sorry.

Which honestly I was a little relieved to hear, because not only do I not want my teen wearing a hooker shirt, but I would've had to sort of lift it from work, and then pay for it later, and then hope no one saw me on the surveillance cameras walking out of the building with it before I paid, and then have to explain, "Oh, I was stealing it for my teenage daughter.  She is in a dance number."

In the interim, I'm a little frazzled.  Re-entry into the non-vacay world has been harsh.  I'm going to call my mom and ask her to bring me some fried rice and a new shirt and see what happens.

Retraction on Chip and Dale

Hello Wifers!

I'm back from sunny Florida, in one piece, slightly bronzer, with shin splints and memories of YD puking in the airport, but I have been converted from a Disney cynic to a drinker of the Disney Kool-Aid.  You got me, Walt.

I'll be boring you with the report of our trip in later posts, but for now, I have one important retraction to make - I made fun of Chip and Dale in an earlier post, calling them "second rate" characters.  When I was in Disney, I heard a number of Cast Members telling guests that "there are over 1200 characters at Disney World, and all of them are important!"  A Cast Member can tell me that and I'll sort of roll my eyes and mutter, "whatever, get me first tier princess and a vodka tonic", but when I see THIS:

(This adorable girl is the property of Pat, ADITW reader)

I have to say "Bring me the chipmunks and one of those kick-ass hats!  (And the vodka tonic.)  And for the love of God, someone buy that darling girl a pony!"  So flippin' cute, no?  And that is where Disney gets you.  Happy faces.  You can have shin splints and lower back pain and be sweating like a hog and eat the worst $35 Beef Tips EVER in a fake Norwegian castle, but once that little (or teenager-ey) face looks at you with their eyes all lit up and their smile from ear to ear, they've got you.  I never really had a burning desire to go to Disney, but now that I've been there, I'm sure we'll go back.  And I already have the first 20 of the 150,000 cans we'll need to collect to do it.

Wifer Out!

It's 10:30 a.m. The time in the trip when you can still avert disaster. When the bags are packed but you can still remember that crucial phone charger or Tylenol or photo ID that you'll be crying about later. It's calm. Quiet. You're under the illusion that everything is under control. This is the time that scares me.

We leave for the airport in 30 minutes. Youngest daughter is getting her Dramamine in an hour, and everyone is slightly freaked about getting on an airplane, since we normally drive everywhere due to Current Husband's hatred of airplanes. I love to fly, but I'm in charge of maintaining calm in our party.

CH just came in and announced we are packed and leaving. Away we go! Wish me luck and effing Pixie Dust!!!!!! Have a great week!

T Minus 3 and Counting

First of all, thanks for your Estro-mail, it actually worked!  Who-hoo!

Tour Guide Mike just sent an e-mail to me, actually begging me to pack.  Which is funny, because I haven't started.  Let me give you the schedule from now until our flight leaves:

Saturday -
9 a.m. - Blogging when I should be packing.  Coffee tastes bad.  Pissed.
9:30 a.m. - Taking Oldest Daughter to mall for V Day boyfriend gift.  His mom nixed a hermit crab, so we're back to square one.  And really, what is her problem?  Why can't a teenage girl give her boyfriend crabs? 
10:00 a.m.  Stopping by Target to pick up my copy of vampire porn Breaking Dawn.
11:30 a.m. - Pick up younger kids from their sleepovers
12:00 - Take The Son to his basketball game.  Watch said game.  Embarrass myself and others.
2:00 - Practice finale dance for the elementary school Variety Show of which I'm in charge.  Note that I have no rhythym and cannot dance.
3:00 - Iowa State plays basketball and all other things cease.
6:00 - Friend coming over to watch vampire porn Breaking Dawn, because we took our teens to it in the theater and couldn't really get into it because our teenage daughters were watching Edward getting it on, and it was a little awkward.  Tonight it's all us, baby.
10:00ish - Friend possibly leaves, but now I've been drinking. 
TIME TO PACK!  Put underwear and socks and bathing suits in bag, take Aleve, go to bed.

Sunday
Noon - 4 p.m.  Rehearsals for the elementary school Variety Show
5:00 p.m.  OD's boyfriend coming over for dinner, actually cooking this time
7:00 p.m. - Leave dirty dishes on counter so I can pack.  Yell at people about dishes.
8:00 p.m.  Begin tucking kids in, they start telling me about makeup tests and things they will have to do tomorrow.  Help them cram for makeup tests.
10:00 p.m. - Make extensive To-Do list that I will promptly lose.

Monday
6:30 a.m.  Wake up, drive middle schoolers to school, go to work all day.
5:00 p.m.  Take kids to string lessons.
6:00 p.m.  Pedicure (this may not seem like a necessity, but trust me, it is)
7:00 p.m.  Take kids to piano lessons.
9:00 p.m.  Begin panicking and weeping about how unprepared I am for trip.  Stay up into the a.m. hours muttering to myself like a crazy person while everyone else sleeps soundly.

Tuesday
9:00 a.m.  Get dog issues settled
10:00 a.m. FREAK OUT COMPLETELY
11:00 a.m.  Leave for airport
1 p.m.  Begin apologies

This is likely EXACTLY how this is going to play out.  But admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, no?

Have a great weekend!  Come and pack for me!  Or better yet, come over to watch Breaking Dawn and eat guac and chips and margaritas.  I won't be packing anyway.

JulieAID: Send Me Your Estrogen

With all of this Disney trip planning, I've been feeling a bit like this guy from THIS story in the LA Times:

For future reference, a Quarter Pounder with Cheese meal will totally get me off the tower.  You might even be justified in suspecting that I got nekkid and on the tower just to GET a QPwC.  (Diet Coke with that, please.)

So Wifers, I am writing with a request.  Since I am now peri-menopausal and have been getting my period about a week early every month, I thought, "Sweet, that means I will get it the week before we go to Disney, because that would be early!"  But here we are, the Friday before we leave (we leave on Valentine's Day, don't rob my house) and NOTHING.  Let's pick exactly where I would like to be on Day 2 of the Raging River:

1. On an airplane with four nervous children (including Current Husband) and the Fasten Your Seat Belts sign on.
2. In my lovely, crisp, white, away-from-home bed at Beach Club Resort.
3. In my Mommy Tankini at Stormalong Bay on white towel of said resort.
4. In the Tower of Terror.
5. At Princess dinner in Norway.

Seriously, Universe.  Early EVERY DAMN MONTH SINCE OCTOBER.  By a week.  And now?  Nothing.  I'm sure this is probably a karma thing, and I get it.  I deserve it.  But how about if we schedule paybacks for March?  How about in April during my birthday and the four-day high school musical with Oldest Daughter in it?  But I'm begging you, Universe - not in an airplane or port-a-potties.

(NOTE:  For those of you who are smiling smugly and saying, "She's so pregnant!" - No.  She is not.  She has lovely nickel coils jammed up into her fallopean tubes, and "interactions" are at an all-time low due to the fabulously sexy cold I had for the last two weeks.)

"I'm sorry about your personal hormonal issues, Julie.  What can I do?"

ANSWER:  I want your estrogen. 

Please send your Estro-mail to adayinthewife@gmail.com, with your donor estrogen attached.  I will use your estrogen to female myself up, and then donate the unused estrogen to hairy men in a Big Johnson t-shirt who show butt crack and crumple their beer can and throw it out the window while driving.  WE ALL WIN.

After the estrogen arrives, and it is Day 2, I will happily take your donations of Quarter Pounders with Cheese.  With Diet Coke, please.

Thanks Wifers, and have a great weekend!