It's been a while since I've done a Ten! All of the planets are aligned tonight, however...I've made dinner, the kids are all getting along, I'm in that sweet slice of evening between not-tired-enough-to-relax and can't-keep-my-eyes-open. It's time for a Ten, people.
1. Blood, vomit or poop: what would you rather clean up? In my line of work it's not uncommon to deal with all three of these bio-hazards (sometimes all in the same day). My co-workers and I have all declared which one is "ours" to handle when it may come up (haha...get that pun? Come up?). Me? I can handle vomit. In fact, I could probably clean up puke with one hand while stuffing a sandwich into my mouth with the other. Seriously. And poop. I'd probably put the sandwich down while cleaning up the crap, but after a thorough hand-washing I'd be good to go.
But not blood. I cannot handle blood. If a child comes up to me, crying and bleeding, I have to compose myself enough to find one of the other teachers. It's not just the blood, it's the added insult of seeing one of the kids, ANY of the kids, hurt. That just makes my mommy senses tingle...and not in a good way.
2. Speaking of tingling senses....I've discovered an old/new show on Netflix: "Longmire". It's about a sad, sexy sheriff in Wyoming who reminds me of Harrison Ford without that goofy old-man earring. And Lou Diamond Phillips is on it too. I used to think his head was freakishly small but I have to say, he's aging well. So now I have to alternate between that show and doling out the last few episodes of "Psych". Which, if you haven't watched yet? You're missing out on some serious guffaws. If you liked Scrubs..you'll like Psych. Imagine J.D. and Turk as Psychic Investigators. There.
3. Fellow curly haired ladies? What's the best smoother product you've found? I got about 7" of hair cut off my Duggar mane and for some reason this shorter length does nothing but frizz out. It's like a grayish orangish version of this greatness right here:
My God, that woman was funny. *sniff*
4. So you'd think that a little cup containing nothing but pink grapefruit slices would be a relatively guilt-free snack, right? I bought a big container of them at Costco last week. Didn't even bother using my Weight Watchers Points Plus calculator. The nutritional information is in really small print and I didn't have the right lighting. So after inhaling a container of them during my lunch, I took advantage of the good lighting and plugged in the info. 3 points! Usually fruits and veggies are zero points. I was so sad. I had visions of me eating these cups all day long. I wish they were packed in water, not juice (insert unhappy fat girl emoticon right here).
5. Aaaaand that was where my eyes shut last night. Hence the title of today's post. But I'm awake now and have an hour before work and I feel the blog mojo coursing through my veins so here we go.
6. Sometimes when I'm out walking, I think of baby names. If I had another boy, I'd name him Walter. Yes, after my dog. I am fully aware of the fact that my poor old ovaries are like two hideous maracas rattling in my pelvic region but this is where my mind wanders on walks. These are my imaginary babies so please, no judging. I'd name my pretend baby girl Marilyn.
7. Speaking of babies, I had a funny memory this morning. For a few years after Big Daddy left, Molly was hellbent on getting a sweet little baby sister from China. In fact, for a persuasive argument essay in elementary school, she wrote out the most earnest, most persuasive argument ever about why I should have adopted a baby girl from China (my favorite line, "Mom, wouldn't it be fun to have three girls in our house?"). Don't think my enabling ass didn't think about it for a nanosecond. But then I remembered that I had four kids who were already beginning to resemble the cast of South Park plus I was pretty sure you are required to not be a broke single mom in order to adopt.
But if my ship ever does come in? I'm totally going to figure out how to do it.
8. You know those moments you have, when you're talking to someone and they say something so outrageously offensive or inappropriate that you cannot believe what you're hearing? And it's not until later that day, when you're alone in your car or in the bathroom, when you conjure up a really good response? I was talking to someone a couple of weeks ago, and they said, "I still think it's funny how dysfunctional kids are drawn together at school. Like messed up moths to a flame." Yeah. They said that, to me. The responses I came up with later that day are far too numerous and bitchy to type out. I'm still not quite believing they said this to me.
9. I'm pretty much over the middle aged hipster thing. If I see one more graying, ironic beard or handlebar mustache I might have to get physical. Don't get me wrong...there's a place and a time and a face for facial hair. But dudes...we get it. You're still cool even though you're getting older. Relax. That Temple of the Dog t-shirt says it all.
10. And speaking of dogs..I'm reaching that creepy point in my dog-ownership where the realization that dogs don't live a long time is sinking in. A few of Walter's buddies have died over the past year, and it's hard to think about. I catch myself looking at him for signs of age.."Is he walking funny? Do his hips hurt? I bet his hips hurt. My God..he's dying." And I've started saying to the kids, "He's not going to be around forever, you guys...LOVE HIM." He's only 7. I need to get myself out of this mindset, so I've been forcing myself to just love him and to make sure he is happy. Which means many long walks, those awful bones he likes from the meat section of the grocery store (don't get me started on how sad cows make me, people) and enjoying special Jenny/Walter time on the Golden Girls Porch.
Dammit, now I'm all misty and it's time to go to work. Here's a funny that my friend Amanda shared the other day. She gets me. She really gets me.
Happy Hump Day!