Musings on attending my 20 year reunion and My Tiny Terror

Look at me ... fulfilling that promise to myself to write more. Now let's hope I can find something to say.

My 20 year high school reunion is this fall, and I just sent in my money the other day. So, apparently I am planning to attend. Which is weird. I mean, why am I really attending?

See ... I never really hung out with my classmates. We had almost 300 in our graduating class. And I was friends with maybe half a dozen, tops. I went to school for one thing - to get the grades and get the hell out. I didn't go to socialize. I didn't do parties. Hell, I didn't even know where the parties were. Not that there was necessarily anything wrong with any of my classmates, I just didn't have time to deal with the whole social scene. I didn't really care. I was on a mission - graduate, get a scholarship, go to college. Total tunnel vision.

And yeah, I was a smart kid. I was in honors and AP classes. And that basically means that I spent most of high school in class with the same 20-30 kids. I didn't really mix with the general population anyway. And also, I was a bitch. I mean, a real class A bitch. To everyone. Needless to say, it wasn't as if any of my classmates were beating down my door to be friends.

So why go to the reunion. I wasn't friends with them then, and I'm really not friends with any of them now. Sure, we comment about stuff on FB, and if I see someone at a restaurant or the grocery store, we exchange pleasant hellos. But that's about it. I'm not having lunch dates or girls nights or any of that with high school chums. So, why am I going again?

I will admit to curiosity. Everyone wants to see how all the others turned out. That's just part of life. And there are a handful of people that I was relatively close to that I wouldn't mind seeing again. But I am not exactly Miss Social. I don't like crowds. I don't like the social chit chat scene. I hate being put on the spot. I am horrible with names.

And now I am starting to have a little bit of panic about the whole thing ... Let's change the subject.

No politics today. I don't have the energy for it.

The Minion got a new full size big boy bed. Apparently he likes it because he slept for about 10 hours last night. And that is a small miracle. Speaking of miracles, I am wishing and hoping we might get one soon because he is sooooo ready for a pre-school or mother's day out program. And I am so ready to put him in one. Just need our financial fairy godmother to wave her magic wand and create the extra funds for it. I love being home with him every day. But it's time for him to start having some serious interaction with other kids. Mama alone just doesn't cut it anymore.

The Minion is also a spoiled rotten terror. I didn't mean for that to happen. In fact, I thought I was doing my best to prevent it. But obviously that didn't work very well. He is usually pretty good in public, but he's getting to the point of realizing that he can cause major embarrassment and potentially get his way if he throws an unholy fit in public. He also knows my mother has no willpower where he's concerned (alright fine - I don't either). Put the two together and you get EVIL in a cute little dimpled package.

Twice in the past four days, we have gone shopping with my mother. And while being hateful and having at least two total meltdown tantrums, he's also managed to acquire the big talking Woody doll, the big Buzz doll, a package of Star Wars figures, a Matchbox space shuttle, three sets of sheets for his bed, two quilted coverlets, and a nightstand to match his new dresser.

And that was with us using restraint. Seriously, he is a power shopper. He "needs" stuff. And he knows how to manipulate to get said stuff. It's scary. He's gonna end up being the dictator of a small island nation if he keeps this up. As long as it's a tropical tax shelter, I am all for that.

My house is a wreck. All the baby furniture from his room needs to go to the attic. All the other stuff I have piled up needs to be put up in the attic or find a home somewhere. This house has no storage and it makes me crazy. We also have way too much stuff. Some days I feel like we are one item away from an episode of Hoarders. Then I actually watch an episode of Hoarders, and I realize that it's not that bad. I just need to clean the damn house. And throw out a bunch of stuff. And definitely pack up a bunch of toys to go to the attic. My child has enough toys to fill a day care. It's crazy ridiculous. He's also quick to tell you that they are all "MINE!!!" and refuse to let you get near them, much less box them up. Guess it's time to plan a late night toy purge.

POF asked me the other day if there was a reason I didn't kiss him much any more. And I realized that there really isn't a reason. Except that I have just stopped being a touchy feely kind of girl. Too busy being worried about what's happening with the dogs or the kid to really take the time. I've become the girl who wants to get sex over and done with in the least amount of time possible because there are too many distractions and things that could be happening in the other room. And that's pretty crappy. So I've decided that I am going to make more of an effort to try to be a touchy feely girl again. Kiss my husband more. Try to be in the moment and not spend the whole time wanting it to be over quickly so I can go check and see if a dog peed or the kid woke up.

I used to enjoy a good snuggle on the couch, watching TV. Now I hardly even sit with him on the couch - we are on opposite sides, and I usually fall asleep within 10 minutes of watching anything. If I sit still, I am asleep. Basically, I need to turn my brain off for a few minutes, and just enjoy being with my husband instead of making lists in my head. Bless his heart, he puts up with a lot.

And on that note ... I have storage bins to fill and get to the attic. And dogs to let out. And a dentist appointment to get ready for. I wish I could wiggle my nose and have everything be done.

Same meanness, new year

So .... several more months have gone by, and still I haven't written anything. I really need to make more effort. I had a total stranger tell me recently that my writing was a gift and I should use it. Hmmmm. For good or for evil? That part I didn't clarify.

What's new at the Haus of Eville? Well .... The Minion is growing like a little evil weed. He is Star Wars obsessed and knows all the characters. Our house looked like the Star Wars toy aisle exploded on Christmas morning. He's talking up a storm, saying the funniest things that keep us laughing all the time. He has these dimples that are EVIL, and he basically controls the household with his tiny dictator ways. You know, the usual.

And a new year is upon us. The final year of all years, apparently. So, since we have another apocalype approaching (years of Whedon have prepared me for just such an occurrence), I thought I might take a minute to think about the things I have learned this past year, and what evil deeds I can work on in this final year of existence.

The most significant thing I guess would be the ending of a 20+ year friendship by Facebook defriending. That was, well, interesting. I mean, for a second I felt like I was about 14 again, and that was just retarded in all kinds of ways. So, I let the friendship go. And you know what I realized? It wasn't really a friendship anymore anyway. I lost nothing from that defriending except the stress and anxiety of dealing with the friendship itself. Yay me.

I realized that basically, we'd remained friends just out of habit. Because we'd been friends since junior high (yes, back then it was junior high - middle school be damned!), and I was so deeply intertwined with her family. I love her family. And I still send her parents cards for birthdays, Mother's Day, Father's Day, etc. I saw her mom briefly right before Christmas. But that was it, and that was fine. I feel no need to justify my actions or explain my reasons. It was done, moving on, we are both better for it. I don't hate her. Never will. I just don't have a place in my life for her anymore. And truthfully, I don't fit in hers. She doesn't hang with my friends, I never even really met hers. We existed in that shared best friends in high school bubble when together, and that was basically all I had to talk about. I realized recently that she probably thought I was one of those weird people who obsessed about high school and all the people then, and where they were now. And I probably did come across that way. Because, truth is, that's all I had to talk about with her. Sad, but true. So, I had to realize that friendships don't always last forever, and it's okay to let them go.

Now, our 20 year class reunion is coming up this year. And that should make it even more intersting. Will we talk to each other? Will we be nice? Rude? Even care? Truth is, we live in the same town, and have yet to actually run into each other. In almost a year. I am sure we will eventually. And who knows, maybe we've both been at Target at the same time and just not crossed paths. Or maybe she's seen me and gone the other way. It's possible. And when we do inevitably run into each other, it will be interesting to see what happens. But I know that I don't plan to be fake about it, and I am pretty sure she won't either. So either that will mean we make eye contact, say nothing, and pretend we don't know each other, or we will say hey and move on and pretent we don't really know each other. And that's ok.

I also learned that I am one lazy person. I hate exercise. I really, really do. I forced myself into it, and after a while it became a habit, and that was good. Then sickness hit the house for a couple weeks and it all went to hell. We haven't been to the Y in over 2 months. And boy can I tell. The pants that were loose are getting snug again. I want to exercise, my body needs it. Yet, it is so damn hard to make myself get up at the crack of dawn and do it. I know that after I do it once, it will get easier. But that first time is a bitch.

I have two precious pups that are getting old. My sweet boy has a heart condition, so we've known for some time that that makes his time morelimited. But now he's starting kidney failure. Granted, lots of animals can live for years before total kidney failure takes them. But still. It's hard to know when is the right time. Right now he's relatively healthy, we are giving him special food that he loves, and he's on all kids of supplements. But eventually, things won't be so positive and we've got tough decisions to make. I dread it. My baby girl isn't doing much better. She has disk problems in her back that are perpetually aggravated by her death defying jumping stunts. Plus she's almost blind now. And she has arthritis in her back legs. She hobbles. But she's otherwise healthy and seems happy. Again, it's tough to know when to say when. If it's up to me, it's never. I will have little Darth Vader dogs running around. I'm already working on the prototype for their suits.

Also, old dogs equal incontinence. Every time I turn around, one of them is peeing or pooping on something. Pee pads? They laugh at pee pads. They will drop a dinosaur sized poop right NEXT to the pee pad. And then walk through it and track it through half the house. Some days I want to scream and wring their little necks. But I clean it up. And I say a little prayer of thanks that I have had them in my life for over a decade, and ask for just a little bit more time. I love them so much. Yes, they are dogs. But they are MY dogs. And they are my babies. And I can't imagine my life

without them. So there.

(This was supposed to be a photo of a weenie

dog in a Darth Vader costume. But then I

found this. It's much more hilarious)

Family is a funny thing. I love my family. And POF's family. We are all crazy and unpredictible and unique, and I wouldn't trade them for anything. Well .... maybe a few things. But no one's offering, so I guess they stay around. I noticed the other day that we always keep things separate. My mom's side of the family, my dad's side of the family, and POF's family. This year I am toying with having a big party for the Minion's birthday. We had all POF's family here this year for the first time the for Thanksgiving and Christmas and The Minion loved having all his cousins to play with. Doing this would mean smushing my family together with his, and potentially with each other. For basically the first time. That makes me nervous.

I realize that I am very much a compartmental person. Each relationship has a compartment. Some compartments open into others, and some just do not. Ever. Maybe things will be fine, and it's just me and my worries that has kept things separate for so long. Or maybe there will be a brawl and the cops will come. It could go either way I suppose. I'm still thinking about it, still not sure. But I think it could be great if I let it. If I could control all elements. Which, of course, I can't.

It comes down to this ... if I have a big party somewhere, my mother will want to come. And if I do a big party somewhere, that means inviting my dad and that side of the family. I have not had my mother and father together in a room since ... well, since I was a kid. I try to avoid it. I don't want to experience it. But maybe that's just me, and everything would be cool. I don't know. But just thinking about it makes me kinda hyperventilate a little bit. See, last year we had two parties. One for just us (with mom's side of the family), and then one for friends and dad's side of the family. Now I'm throwing POF's family into the mix too. It's chaos. And it makes me itchy. And twitchy. Maybe I need medication.

And now it's time to wrap this up. The Minion has decided that I've spent enough time doing something that does not include, or directly benefit, him. Hopefully it won't take me another 4 months to come back. Maybe 2012: The End of the World is the year I will blog weekly. Or bi-weekly even. You never know. It will be a surpise to me too.