Moms Don't Get Sick Days

   When you have a job, and you get sick, the expected thing to do is to go to the doctor's, get medication, and if necessary, call in sick. No one wants those germs. But even if you can't call in sick, because you can't afford to and are out of sick time, or you have an important project deadline coming up, or for whatever reason, there is still the expectation that when you get home, you will be able to rest. Take some medicine, get in your jammies, put your feet up and rest.
   This is not the case with moms. Whether single or working, moms don't get to call out. No matter how sick we are, the kids need feeding, housework needs doing, and no one seems to believe that the world will continue to turn if you take a rest. This is true for all mothers; we have all been there.
   This is the truth that I face today. Of course, I have always known this, but I like to complain. And this week has not started off in the best manner. Saturday, I suddenly came down with the cold from Hell, and there was no warning. I was fine one hour, the next hour my nose was a leaky faucet. Are you kidding me??? How did this happen? Well, both my niece and my daughter were sick a few weeks ago, but then my sister caught the dreaded cold, so I made sure to stay away from that sick-o. She can keep her germs, and when she recovered from runny nose hell while I only experienced a sore throat, I thought I had managed to evade that little germ, everyone has been recovered for a while and I was still going strong.
    Nope. No such luck. Saturday, I went from being fine to being sicker than a dog, and so I decided that I needed to stay the night at my sister's apartment, so she could take care of me. (Considerate, right? I thought so, hehehehe <----evil laughter.) But that wasn't really helpful, because we stayed up most of the night watching horror movies, so I didn't get much rest. That Sunday at work, I was miserable. But when  I went home, what did I do? Well, I had to hold off on the Nyquil, because Monday was my daughter's field day. Since someone has been feeding that child Miracle Grow behind my back, she currently only possesses one pair of shorts that fit, which needed to be washed, but she had to have them for field day. So I had to do laundry. She also needed something to eat. Since I am not in the habit of serving up a nice, tasty dish of Miracle Grow, I had to fix her something to eat. Well, I eventually went to bed, and earlier than usual, but then I got woken up because the shower curtain had fallen down on my daughter while she was showering and getting ready for bed, so I got up and put the shower curtain back up. Then someone knocked at the door, so I stormed to the door and opened it only to immediately slam said door in some person's face. I don't know whose, because I didn't really look. In my defense, at this time I was under the influence of Nyquil, and I had only been asleep for less than two hours. I am really a bear when I wake up, so this unidentified person was lucky, in retrospect: I didn't eat him.
   Since I was up and in a pissy mood anyway, I put the dishes in the dishwasher, and then I went back to bed, only to have to get up at seven. I didn't have to be to work until eleven, but there is this little thing called getting my daughter to school that I have to do every weekday. I work shift work, so sometimes I go in at nine, sometimes I go in at noon, and sometimes I go in at four in the afternoon, and every other time between, but regardless of when  I have to go in, I have to get up at seven in the morning to get my daughter to school.
   These are things that all moms are familiar with. Even when sick, we still find ourselves taking care of the family, getting housework done, nursing other sick family members, and all the other little things that keep our homes running smoothly. We don't get to call in sick because apparently if we did, the world would stop in it's tracks. This is being mom; no sick days. Good thing we are a hardy breed, full of strength, the backbone of our species, and it's a really good thing that we love our most important work: our family.

The Maggots' Feast AKA Nom Nom Nom (Based On A True Story)

On a lonely road in the dead of night....
   The masked villain, tired from a day of dumpster diving and terrorizing the apartment complex's outdoor cats (even though Washington state does have leash laws, people) takes a peaceful walk home. As he is crossing the road however, he is met by his arch nemesis, and is frozen by his one weakness: headlights. Unable to defend himself, the masked villain is struck down. A concerned citizen sees the body, and calls Animal Control, but little do they know that the Animal Control operative is a deranged lunatic, who chuckles gleefully as he places the body (dun dun dun) right next to the sidewalk that the school children use to get to school.

The next day...
   Our fearless heroine notices the body in the morning, but artfully shields her smart aleck-y daughter from the knowledge that the reaper has just visited a most favored villain. But that afternoon she can no longer hide the knowledge of the death of the masked villain, because some dumb-ass dad (the kryptonite of every mother) has all the school kids in a trance as he pokes the body with a stick.
   "Are you kidding me?!" our fearless heroine shouts at the dumb-ass dad but he just chuckles and continues his morbid exploration. Our fearless heroine pushes a path through the crowd for her smart aleck-y daughter so that they can continue walking home from the daughter's school.
   "Don't let me catch you doing that dumb shit," our fearless heroine snaps to her smart aleck-y daughter as they continue on their way.
   "Yeah, because I always poke dead things with sticks," her smart aleck-y daughter replies.

Two days later...
   The body is still there. Calls to the maniacal Animal Control operative are to no avail. No one knows what to do about the body because they are all citified and are not gonna touch that crap. The school kids just have to hold their breaths as they pass the masked villain's remains. Our fearless heroine and her smart aleck-y daughter are walking to school when they notice that the corpse seems to be shifting oddly. Our fearless heroine stops in confusion.
  "Zombie?" she mutters, mostly just to mess with her smart aleck-y daughter's head.
  "Oh my God, no! Mother! Stop staring at the dead raccoon and let's go!" the smart aleck-y daughter complains.
   Suddenly the corpse erupts and maggots start spilling from the body. Our fearless heroine gives a blood-curdling scream and shouts "RUN!!" at her smart aleck-y daughter, but it's too late. What has been seen cannot be unseen. They will both carry the scars of witnessing the maggot feast for the rest of their lives.
   They come to a rest at the cross walk and the school crossing guard politely asks them how they are doing this morning.
  "Horror...." answers our fearless heroine, still reeling from what she witnessed.
   Her smart aleck-y daughter however, just rolls her eyes. "She stayed up too late last night reading manga," she explains to the crossing guard.
   "Manga?" asks the crossing guard.
   "Yeah, kinda like comics, but from Japan."
   "Dead raccoon," our fearless heroine explains, because how late she stayed up the night before reading has nothing to do with anything.
   "Oooooh," the crossing guard lady says in understanding. "You know, someone should call Animal Control. They will probably come remove it."

The saga continues....

A much lamented villain. Rest in peace masked villain.

Hi, My Name Is Marie, And I've Been Addicted To Books For 31 Years

So many, yet, not enough. 

   Okay, if you have been reading my blog posts, you know that I have a serious addiction to the written word. I don't know if you could really compare that addiction to drugs, like my title implies, but this is an addiction. Not a harmful one, but an addiction nonetheless. I see a book that I haven't read, that I want to read, and I am affected physically. My heart starts pounding, I can hear the blood rushing in my ears, my skin gets warm, I tingle...... Okay, that sounds funky, but all the same, it happens. I NEED that book. More than I need food or sleep; my need to read surpassed even my need to game. In fact, my love of gaming started because the stories I found in video games could be every bit as involved and detailed as a story in a book. Final Fantasy VII and Xenogears (gears, NOT saga) pulled me in as deeply as any book ever did, and the main reason that I have those games still is for the stories, not the actual gameplay (although I like that too).
   So when I say that I am addicted to books, I mean I am addicted. I can't stop. Getting them from the library is not good enough. I mean, that will momentarily cure the itch, but I am not just a reader, I am a re-reader. Meaning that if I like something, I will read that something over and over and over again. And I am a fast reader. I finish most books within a day or two. I finished The Fellowship of The Ring in one day. (Incidentally, that is the first book I ever read my daughter. When she was older and cared what she was listening to, I read her Brown Bear, Brown Bear, but I avoided that stuff as long as possible. A newborn only cares that she/he can hear the sound of your voice and feel skin-on-skin contact. She/he doesn't care what silly old Frodo is up to.) So I can read a large quantity of books in a small amount of time. Which is really freaking expensive. My savings account is always in danger of being raided for book money. I know that I shouldn't.......but I have too. I NEED that books. My sweaty palms are burning.

Hazel and Fiver always make me feel better. 

   And books; they comfort me. Watership Down is my comfort book. Whenever I feel too upset to handle things, I go visit Hazel and Fiver. Those are two good old friends that have given the the respite needed in order to regroup and get a handle on problems. Feeling like there is no such thing as romance? Read Pride and Prejudice. Can't stomach the classics? Then read the manga Fruits Basket. You'll believe in love again. Sounds corny, but I rely on these stories. Sure, they are make-believe, but a person made them up, and that encourages my belief in people. We can think up such amazing things, and that makes me happy. So books are also my rock, in a way. No, they don't solve my problems, but they give my nerves a rest, which enables me to think more clearly and more rationally, which in turn enables me to tackle a problem with better clarity and stronger resolve.

My happy little space saver. 

   But really, I need to leave my savings account alone. So I write this blog post with a little bit of frustration at myself, because now I owe my savings a hundred bucks. And that was a cheap book shop, but that darn Amazon, that canny online store had a complete set of a manga series that I have been looking to pick up, and they had the originally priced $140 set for $82 (I took out $100 because I wasn't sure about tax. I suck at math.) That is over fifty dollars off! And if I had bought the books singly, they sell for $9.99, and there are eighteen in the series, so that's $180, so I saved myself a hundred bucks buying them like this. At least, that's what I tell myself. But if I hadn't bought them, I'd still have my hundred bucks in my savings, and not feeding Amazon's profit margin. *sigh* You can't win for losing, and I have lost to this addiction. In truth, I don't want to cure my book addiction at all. I know a ton of people who don't read at all, and I can't fathom not reading. What do you people do?!?! Don't say get out, because I get out too. I go to work and go to the movies and go to the mall and go hiking on Mount Rainier and go away on vacation and do family things with my daughter, but there are still a lot of minutes in life that are filled with not doing any of these things. What do you do in those minutes? Minutes that add up to hours that add up to days. What do you do? I don't understand.

These bookcases where an apartment-warming gift from my grandpa and his wife. Thanks!!!!

*** This is where I add a little note saying that I mean no disrespect to those fighting real addictions. You are all so strong and brave in facing your inner demons. I would never make fun of someone facing that; this was me making fun of myself, because I know that I am ridiculous about books.

Tanning Bed Terrors

   People don't seem to get the truth about tanning beds. Just a way to make your skin darker; but I've worked in a tanning salon, and the truth is ugly. If you are truly determined not to stop tanning, you really might not want to read this. But regardless of whether you want to read this or not, I am going to wrtie it. And although you might be expecting another skin cancer rant, I am not even going to talk about that. I am going to talk about the deranged habits of some people, and the fact that if something can go wrong, it will. I am going to talk about piss, periods, and crabs. Happy reading; you've been warned.
   One thing that I hear often is the fact that you can't catch crabs from a tanning bed. Well, while it is true that the UV rays kills them, there are such things as technical malfunctions. Like, what happens if the tanning bed bulbs are not working right, and they do not emit those lusted after skin-darkening rays? Think it can't happen? It did. It has. It probably will again. And we had one pissed off customer and her pissed off husband, and a bed that was undeniably, indisputably infested. We had to take apart that bed and fumigate the entire thing. Personally, darker shin is not worth that to me, but we all know that I have an issue with creepy little crawly bugs that live in hair. I can't see myself surviving crabs. So that leaves tanning beds out for me because I wanna live.
   Okay, so now we have addressed that dread subject, and I am going to move on, because my skin is itching. Wanna know who else gets in tanning beds? Imagine having to go in to work and your main job at work is to wipe those beds down after people have used them. Now imagine that you walk into the room and the bed is covered in red. Guess what that is? Yeah, girls who don't plug it up on their monthly flow. I could never leave a bed like that, but some girls just have no shame. And since all beds are linked to a customer account, we can look at who used the bed last and figure out who left that nasty mess. Some tanning salons allow for walk in tans, and you don't have to have an account, but the place I worked at did not allow that. You had to have an account on file with us, and I think incidents like this were the reason. This woman was notified that if she left a bed in that condition again, we would suspend her account and not allow her to use our beds again, but can you imagine how awkward that conversation was? I'm just glad that I didn't have to be the one to deal with that. There are some places where you really do not want to be a manager, and a tanning salon is one of them.
  Now on to piss! Bet your loving this; this has got to be one of the most nasty blog posts that I have ever written. But working in a tanning salon is the nastiest job that I have ever had, hands down. We had this regular customer, and she would come in and tan and be all friendly, but for some reason, every time she left a tanning booth, that booth would smell like piss, and we couldn't figure out why. People have pissed in the beds before, but this was obviously not happening here. There were no puddles in her bed. I don't know why some people have the urge to piss in a tanning bed, but there are some freaky people out there, and they do this. She was not though, so we couldn't figure out why. For a while, we thought she just had an unfortunate body odor. But we went in and did a complete clean of the room, and we lifted the trash can that was in the room up, and underneath the trash can was a damp spot: a pee-smelling damp spot. She had lifted up the trash can, pissed on the floor, and then put the trash can down on top of it. Are you kidding me?!?!
   I mean, I could keep going. People get really nasty in tanning beds. I am not sure why because these are public places, and what you do in them is not as private as you might think. And these are the real reasons I am never going to get in a tanning bed. Forget cancer, although I don't want that either, the truth of my terror of tanning beds is working for a year in a tanning salon. Those places are nasty. And before you go thinking that I worked in a trashy little place: no. I worked in a nice salon, with the newest beds. These things happened in even an upscale little salon. Happy tanning.

Ummmm, Sorry To Burst Your Bubble, But Boys Can Be Teenage Parents Too

   Okay, I have had enough. If one more person tells me that they are glad they don't have a girl because they don't have to worry about her getting pregnant, I am going to explode. The last time I checked, the human species does not reproduce asexually. Meaning that all kids have two parents. Meaning that out there for every teenage mom, there is either a teenage dad, or some statutory rapist is on the prowl. Unless you think all teenage mothers go to the clinic and get artificially inseminated? If so, let us know what clinic they are using, because we need to shut that shit DOWN.
   But the truth is, boys are teenage parents just as much as girls are. So Moms, shame on you for saying this, because moms are sure enough the ones I hear this the most from. What lessons are you teaching your sons each time this garbage comes out of your mouth? Oh, it's okay to walk away from your children because you have a penis? That doesn't fly with me. I know that this attitude doesn't fly with my sister. If my nephew starts running around knocking girls up, he better get some jobs lined up, because she's gonna drag him to the courthouse and get child support and visitation set up herself if he won't do it on his own. But likely, he won't need her to do this, because she is not raising him that way.
   We have a whole shitload of deadbeat dads in this country. We need to stop saying bullshit like this, because if you run around mouthing off this kind of swill, you are part of the problem. My whole rant for today is founded on a woman telling me that she never realized that she would have to help her kids out with  their kids, because she had boys so she didn't think she would have to deal with single parent issues. Um, excuse me? So what exactly where you expecting? You could argue that she expected them to stay married, but then why would she say that she didn't expect to deal with single parent issues because she had all boys? That doesn't sound like a marriage issue; that sounds like she expected that the moms would have the kids and her sons would have little to no responsibilities for them. That's what that sounds like to me.
   So just an FYI to all of you with boys, don't expect this bullshit from me. I have talked the 'safe sex' talk with my daughter, and I have had the 'wait until you are married' talk, and I've talked about how hard being a single mom is and how being a mom, married or single, changes your whole life so that you need to wait until you are ready for that change. But if she does end up as a pregnant teenager, and no one claims responsibility for their half of pregnancy, you can bet that I am going to be getting some court orders for paternity tests for every boy she has had contact with if I need to. You can bet that there will be child support and visitation, because she won't have gotten into that mess alone. Somewhere, some guy was whispering "Baby, I love you" in her ear, and they are gonna take care of their responsibilities. So if your boy knocks my daughter up, don't be sitting there thinking your son won't have responsibilities.
   Hopefully this will never have to happen with my daughter, because we talk about everything, and she's a smart enough girl to learn from her mom's mistakes and hardships, but even if this doesn't happen to her, my point is that this shouldn't happen AT ALL. We shouldn't have this attitude. And guys, I know that this doesn't apply to all of you. There are a lot of you that are excellent fathers, and there are some super crappy moms out there, but you have to admit that society does not view teenage fathers in the same light as teenage mothers, or even single fathers the same as single mothers. Women get a bad rap when it comes to this baby stuff, but my point it, this baby stuff takes two. Lets start laying half of that responsibility where it belongs.