Summer with the kids…(Please send wine. No, really, send it..)

I’ve been missing from here and that can only mean one thing…it’s summer.

I’m driving children here, there, and everywhere…trying to carve out some time to just sit down in silence to reflect and recharge.

I’m still waiting for that to happen.

Yesterday I decided to do some much needed weeding. It had rained here in Michigan the night before…the ground was soft and I thought that this would make it a bit easier to pull up  all these weeds that have invaded my garden beds. I will add that I poured Preen (weed killer) all over my mulch in a vain attempt to thwart their invasion. Ha.

There I was, rubber garden gloves on, t-shirt, work out capris and gym shoes, furiously pulling up weeds.

Now here is the thing. My neighbor, a super nice guy…well…his lawn, an island in a sea of well landscaped, beautifully maintained yards…well…his lawn is ALL weeds. I mean, there is maybe one blade of grass in his back yard. You can see the poison ivy climbing up his trees and house. We had a lovely chat, over our fence, talking about our children..he told me how his son had been bitten by a garter snake trimming the bushes last week.. and in my mind I thought JUDAS PRIEST ARE YOU NOT GETTING THAT YOU SHOULD MAYBE DO SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR YARD???? But instead I just nodded as the kid was fine, as it was just a garter snake, and I was being polite.

I went back to weeding and discovered a GIANT fungus thing growing in my front bed. It’s about a foot in diameter, layered like a water fall, and freakish looking. It reminded me of some really bad cases of venereal diseases I had seen in text books…any way, I was distracted and I still don’t know how to take care of this monster growing in my front yard. I continued yanking up weeds and stumbled onto a huge patch of (goddammit) poison ivy growing amongst my flowers.

I was in full force Macho Mom mode, so I (stupidly) thought, well Hell’s Bells, I will just pull that shit right out. So I tried to. And then about half way through it occurred to me that this might not be the wisest thing to do as the four-foot strands of ivy were flying up into the air and I was wearing short sleeves…I was pretty sure it hadn’t touched my arms…but…then I started to get paranoid as I was (duh) wearing my capri work out pants and (duh) short sleeves and I had been deep inside my flowers trying to get at the root of this massive poison ivy plant.

I jumped back like I had been shocked and thought well, I probably should go shower…so…I casually walked into my house…took off my gloves like I had just done surgery and put them high up on a shelf..then went up and took a nice hot shower. I scrubbed my arms off and realized that they were tingling. I told myself it was just my imagination. Then I thought hmmm, I probably should have looked up how to treat a poison ivy exposure BEFORE I jumped into the shower…because I was/am a nurse…duh…(this is what happens when you take a nurse out of her profession for too long…the brain begins to rot…)

I got out, dried off and looked it up on my phone. Of course it said to wash off the area with cool water only–that hot water would only spread the poisonous oil. AWESOME. Now I was tingling for real…kept telling myself it was my imagination. I slathered my arms with hydrocortisone cream.

I am pleased to announce that I have no rash on my arms. I was a little nervous to note a few red spots on my face this morning but no blisters…thank goodness. The last thing I need is to look like a freak of nature.

I guess the point of this post is to point out that this is the high light of my week since I’M TRAPPED WITH MY CHILDREN.

Please feel free to send reinforcements, wine, or a replacement for a few hours.

I love my kids.

I love summer.

Just not together…

Now to go back outside and bag all those damn weeds…

Stage fright..(or, A narcissist by another name is still an asshole)

Monday night we had some stormy weather here in Michigan. As luck would have it…I was also going up on stage at a local bar for an open mike night for stand up. Now here is true confession time…I may have mentioned this before…I have terrible, almost debilitating, stage fright.

Yeah, I know, why the hell am I doing this, is the question of the day.

I will have to get back to you on that.

I was sitting at the bar, glass of water in front of me…no alcohol as I already had a Xanax on board, and well, I’m really trying to not drink anymore…a few guys I know were sitting next to me…my instructor from my advanced comedy class was nearby…and my phone rang. Who was calling me after 10pm???

I looked down and saw that it was my dad’s girlfriend. I thought “Oh shit” and thought the worst for a second…because, let’s face it…my dad never calls me, and I had already called him for Father’s Day and done my daughterly duty.

Imagine my surprise to hear my father’s voice on the phone. “Teena?” he asked. “Are you still awake?” Ummm, yes…He asked what I was doing and if I was aware of the weather. Because I was tired and because I wasn’t thinking, I replied that I was at a bar and getting ready to do stand up. “STAND UP???? Stand up what???” he asked. I explained that it was stand up comedy…he snorted..and asked what I was going to be telling jokes about (sigh…because, that’s what stand up comics do…tell jokes..). I said that my current bit was about the perils of menopause and what it was doing to my body. He said, “OH, so you’re not doing any NEW material. NOTHING THAT HASN’T BEEN DONE BEFORE.”

I stared hard at my water-glass and gritted my teeth. I did not order the Grey Goose and soda with lots of limes that I REALLY FREAKING WANTED BY NOW.  In my head, I called my dad an ASSHOLE. On the phone I just said, well yes, I suppose that was true, silly me. (and called him an ASSHOLE again).

See, here is the thing. My father is a full-blown narcissist. My mother was also mentally ill…just imagine how lovely my childhood was. This combination creates adult mid-life comics or just smart asses in general.

Then my father, no longer interested in me, turned the conversation back to him…and how he had always been right to worry about the weather. Because YOU NEVER KNEW WHEN A TORNADO COULD STRIKE. And then he asked if I wasn’t worried about my oldest daughter, volunteering at Muscular Dystrophy Camp, right in the line of the severe storms.

Thanks, dad, for making me feel oh so much better. (ASSHOLE)

And then he hung up, his goal of striking fear in my heart accomplished.

I did make it up on stage that night. I did my bit, even though there was maybe one woman in the audience. AWESOME. So nice to talk about my ladyparts to men. They can totally commiserate.

My teacher assures me that I will get over my stage fright once I go up on stage enough. I replied that he didn’t have a clue as to how neurotic I really am. And gave him THE LOOK.

I’m an introvert with extrovert tendencies. Yeah, I know. I’m complicated. Whatever.

What do you expect with my background???

Sigh.