The Peanut Chronicles

You know that you are in need of work when you are driving in a car and then you begin to psychoanalyze a commercial on the radio. No, I shit you not.

The bear, Nut and I went to metropolis tonight to do home work at a deaf social (to which no one showed up I might add. With gas being almost three bucks a gallon it was a massive waste in my opinion). On our way there a commercial came over the radio for Disneyworld. I assume one day we will take Nut down to Disney World and suffer through the corporate bullshit that is all that Disney is but until that day, I am just going to listen to the commercials and roll my eyes.

Anyway, the commercial consisted of a high pitched, squeaky and fluttery voice of a young girl asking a old man, deep voice sounding type where she could fine her seven little friends that she hangs out with. It’s obviously Snow White, as you might suspect. As the announcer describes where each dwarf is I find myself analyzing the situations of each of them:

Sleepy- obviously has an issue with narcolepsy. Possible depression as well.
Grumpy- Depression and Oppositional Defiance Disorder
Sneezey- Munchausen’s disease and hypochondria
Dopey- mild mental retardation, ADD and drug use
Doc- borderline personality disorder
Happy- Bipolar, fast cycling focusing on manic episodes
Bashful- social anxiety disorder, extreme agoraphobia

Snow white herself has some major issues as well:
Child abuse form step mom creates a major mistrust in adults
Acts out with Prince
Vanity
Obsessive-compulsive disorder in regards to cleaning the house.
Eating disorder

I could go on but Nut is in bed and Bear wants me to come to bed now.

Oh my god… I need a job.

Big news here in Peanut’s world. Looks like the company that the Bear contracts out from is being sold to Johnson Family Inc. What does that mean? Well, nothing really bad, only good.

The Johnson’s are a family in Dinora, a very wealthy community near Metropolis. How wealthy? Let’s just say that there are a few movie stars and a couple of retired governmental people living there. Yeah, that wealthy. Any way, the Johnson’s are a very nice family and very down to earth. Mr. J has decided that he wants to buy Goldsmith (the place where the Bear contracts). He wants to turn around the failing school part of it and to put it nicely; he has the money to do so. Even nicer, he wants Bears input on how to do it and money is no object.

Bear is ECSTATIC as can pretty much be expected. He still can contract there but he basically also going to be the manager of this place. I.e., they are paying him a salary on top of his contracting hours for his own business. Maybe even health benefits, which we are in dire need of. Bear met with Mr. J last night and Nut and I played the “trophy family” part with the rest of his family while they discussed ideas for over an hour. I like the family. They are really nice.

Now here comes the best part: out of his salary every pay check Mr. J will take a small percentage and put it into the business. That’s right; Bear is going to be part owner. ROCK ON.

This could have grand implications for the family here. We may leave metropolis and move back home to Scarlet Wood. That was our goal eventually and we think that in a few years it will be a possibility.

Must go, more developments are imminent but Nut is crying.

It's almist July and I wanted to give a wee bit of an award to Mommy off the record for her Perfect Post last month of
Walking the Gauntlet
because, let's face it... don't we all just love tar-jay? Not to mention she is frigging hilarous!!!

So this award goes to Mommy... you make me laugh out loud, a lot!!

I’m pissed. I am really REALLY pissed. You know what? I hate two-faced motherfuckers. They piss me off. I don’t play that game with my friends. If you have something to say to my face just say it and let’s move on. However, when you are SINGLE and HAVE NO KIDS don’t fucking tell me how to raise my kid!!! OR wait, voice your opinion to everyone else and then be disgustingly sweet to our faces. Don’t you think that we can’t see through that bullshit?? After all, if you want to question Bear and I then do so instead of being a total fucker behind our backs. and since you won't return calls or answer your god damned phone I am putting it here because I KNOW you read it.

Yeah, don’t think we don’t know what you did. We do.

All this waiting and a silver lining... I was home when my book was delivered to me. it looks so cool. my name... in print. yea!!!

It’s almost painful when you are waiting and what you are waiting for is more then likely going to be bad news. It’s absolutely heart wrenching. So then why do we all do it? I am waiting for an email from Hippie. The dean who coordinated the stipend wanted to talk with her. She emailed him her number yesterday and now is waiting. Waiting waiting waiting.

Does this mean it’s good news? Probably not. It’s not that I am being a pessimist I am just being honest. Which is depressing as all hell if you think about it. And being depressed doesn’t make the job hunt any easier. I cancelled my interview today. Said I had a family emergency. Rescheduled for Monday and so then it might be easier without the black eye then.

Hwy am I bothering to get my hopes up? There is a saying, “Never deprive someone of hope; it may be all they have left.” And yet I just feel like I am clinging to a hope that isn’t there. Wow… when I finished my BA I was under qualified and couldn’t find a job. Now I am over qualified. How funny that it’s the same lame ass reason I can’t find work, sort of. How depressing.

And I miss him. I really do. However, it’s fucked beyond repair now.

I am currently sporting the most attractive thing for someone who is looking to put forward a professional look while looking for a better paying job with benefits. I have an interview in Metropolis (for a job I don’t really want) and I am sporting a lovely new gift from my husband.

I have a black eye.

Now before everyone goes off and gets their panties in a bunch over my hubby giving me a black eye, let me tell you that it was an accident.

No, really, it was.

At 3 am Bear was asleep with his arm draped over his face. Me, I went to check on Nut in the other room. As I climbed back into bed, Bear moved and his elbow came down right on my nose and face. OUCH! He didn’t even fucking wake up. Ironically, this has even happened before too!

So I look like an idiot. And I am going to interviews with a frigging black eye. What makes it worse is the explanation sounds ridiculous. It really does, I am aware of it, but it’s the truth.

Besides, we all know that I can kick Bear’s ass if I really wanted to.

Paint if you will a picture.

Today’s adventure begins with the Nut and I going out to the post office in 100+ weather. Did I mention the fact that it is muggy as all hell as well? So naturally, when the weather is like this, most people don’t want to be wearing a lot of clothing. Or long sleeves. Or jeans. Or anything to that extent. In fact, my outfit for the trip to the Post office to get stamps to mail items out was pretty simple: white cotton blouse and a skirt. A short skirt in fact, made of jean fabric. How short? Short.

Let me paint you the picture for my rant. I have parked with my 4-month-old son at the post office in a very small space. I am removing the camo diaper bag from the back seat in front of him when I feel something weird. Just that spider sense feeling that you are being watched or stalked somehow. I look up. I see nothing. I sling my diaper bag on my shoulder and reach in to pull out a fussing Nut. As I am reaching in I get that feeling again. I straighten up and look around. Nothing. I finally get Nut out of the car and look up in time to see a man about six feet tall with striking eyes and blond hair walking by with his little sister. I see him and he is looking at me… but not my face.

My rant: what is it about a girl wearing a short skirt that makes men drool and stare at their asses? And why is that if I chose to wear a short skirt it means so many different things to men that it doesn’t mean to women? For me, wearing the short skirt today had nothing to do with wanting to be leered at. It had everything to do with the fact that it was hot and I was looking for something to wear in this weather and feel cooler then I would. Should I be ashamed that I am dressed like the way that I am? Because I am wearing a shot skirt, is that implying that I am some sort of slut?

I digress…

He smiles as me as I walk by. Did he not notice Nut? What the hell?? I just nodded curtly and went into the air-conditioned post office to get my book of stamps that I badly needed. But no, it doesn’t end there…

I am standing in line, minding my own business when I get that creepy feeling again. I turn around and, lo and behold, guess who is behind me? Ass man himself! This time he smiles and says, “heeeelllllllooo there” in that cheesy player voice characters from cheesy 70s movies would say. This millenniums equivalent? “How YOU doing?”

I flash a smile and say, “Hey…” disinterestedly and turn back around.

“I’m mark. What’s your name?”

Huffy I turn around again; “Carol.” (Yes, total fake name. I never give my real name out.)

“Soo… Carol…(I roll my eyes at this point) lived here long? I just moved here and I was wondering what people do around here for fun.”

Does he not notice Nut sitting in his car seat at my feet? Is he that stupid/blind/desperate?

“Don’t know. Don’t get out much what with the baby and all.”

“I see.”

We move a few feet more in the line. I figured the baby comment would shut him up. Of course I am wrong.

“I just had to say, you look very nice in the skirt. VERY nice.”

Say it with me folks: Ewwwwwwwwww

I respond with the eyes rolled and a Phsew. Luckily it was my turn at the counter. There was a nice Asian woman working the counter. I scooted Nut forward and breathed a sigh of relief. But no, it’s not over. As creepy ass man was walking by he said, “Hey this is my myspace address. Check it out. I would love to spend time with you.”

Did I just get picked up by myspace?

So let me finish my rant with Eve Ensler:

It is not an invitation
a provocation
an indication
that I want it
or give it
or that I hook.

My short skirt
is not begging for it
it does not want you
to rip it off me
or pull it down.

My short skirt
is not a legal reason
for raping me
although it has been before
it will not hold up
in the new court.

My short skirt, believe it or not
has nothing to do with you.

My short skirt
is about discovering
the power of my lower calves
about cool autumn air traveling
up my inner thighs
about allowing everything I see
or pass or feel to live inside.

My short skirt is not proof
that I am stupid
or undecided
or a malleable little girl.

My short skirt is my defiance
I will not let you make me afraid
My short skirt is not showing off
this is who I am
before you made me cover it
or tone it down.
Get used to it.

My short skirt is happiness
I can feel myself on the ground.
I am here. I am hot.

My short skirt is a liberation
flag in the women's army
I declare these streets, any streets
my vagina's country.

My short skirt
is turquoise water
with swimming colored fish
a summer festival
in the starry dark
a bird calling
a train arriving in a foreign town
my short skirt is a wild spin
a full breath
a tango dip
my short skirt is
initiation
appreciation
excitation.

But mainly my short skirt
and everything under it
is Mine.
Mine.
Mine.

I had a job interview today.
It lasted 2 hours and 45 minutes.
I loved the job.
They loved me.
They asked me all sorts of questions.
They told me I was smart.
They told me they liked my energy.
They heard about the stipend.
They are willing to try to find a way to hire me.
They have licensing available hours.
They rock my world.
I rock their world.

I told Hippie (the stipend coordinator amd former professer) about the job.

The answer is 99.9% sure a no.

Stipend cannot be repaid.

I can’t take it.

I am so depressed and frustrated.

Scary situation at four am took place today. I was asleep. Well, I was asleep as one can be at 4 in the morning with a baby and those god damned morning lark birds or what ever the hell they are called starting their annoying chirping as the sun slowly begins to rise like a teenager with a snooze alarm. Oh yeah, and the fact that it was 72 degrees outside BEFORE the sun was even in the sky should tell you what type of sleep I was getting. Still I was not prepared for the jolt of adrenaline that I got at 435.

Having been woken up for some unknown reason I rolled over and squinted at the clock. 435. I closed my eyes and thought to myself, “OK, the alarm goes off in 2 hours and then your interview in the plains at 10.” It was hot, I was tossing and my brain began to wander a bit. I couldn’t sleep though. It was just a weird sense of being watched. I didn’t like the feeling.

I opened my eyes.

There was a man standing above my bed.

He was naked.

Time slows down when you are terrified. I have learned this lesson the hard way more times then I care to remember or even mention for that matter. But in the two split seconds that go by you are you start awake, a person can think a million things, from rational to delusional.

In my two seconds here is what I thought:

“There is a naked man standing above me. How the hell did he get into my house? Where is Nut? This man is going to rape me. He is going to kill me. I have to get out of here. I need to fight this motherfucker out of my house. I need to get nut to safety. Why is Nut being quiet? Did he hurt nut? Go for the balls, hit him hard. Where is Nut? I am going to kill the fucker if he touched Nut. He can take anything from the house. Leave us alone. Hit his balls first then his knees. His jaw is vulnerable after that. You have more strength in your legs, go for the kicking. Run like hell. Don’t worry about clothes, grab nut and go. Fight fight fight.”

Two seconds is all it took. Now let’s do a reality check before I tell you what happened. I am barely over 5 feet tall. This guy is six feet or so. I can try to defend myself but if something going to happen then more then likely I am going to be on the losing side. I am a little girl. (Oh how sexist of me). All I really have going for me is that I have been referred to by my friends as a spit fire and I know how to take care of myself with self defense but that is in other situations. Here I am laying in bed with a naked man over me! What are my chances of succeeding?

But I do have a voice, and a loud one. I can scream. Loudly. And let’s face it folks, it’s a fight or flight situation here. You either run like hell or you fight like hell. Statistically speaking, usually if you fight, people give up and leave you alone. So fight or flight? Which one was I going to take?

Before I could even begin to move to fight the man spoke:

“Honey! I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you! Nutter was fussing and I went to feed him! Are you ok??”

It was Bear all along.

I almost wet the bed with relief.

In reality, could I have taken him if need be? No, but as I said to Nut when he was born, I would die trying to protect him.

I am sure that moms around the world have had this discussion with other moms but I don’t know any other moms. It’s just me, trapped in the suburbs, with a yuppie (yet not really a yuppie) husband, an adorable son, and two cats. My friends are all single or engaged and none of them have children or want children for that matter. Its an interesting dilemma when a problem arises with Nut because who do you call?
(Personally I email some really cool people for advice)

Today’s conversation with Fly Girl, who was baby-sitting the Peanut while I was at the interview, was about Nut’s constipation. Yes, Peanut is constipated. I thought for sure all the screeching this past week that has driven me to the cliffs of insanity was all about teething. I gave in on Friday and took him to Dr. L because nothing we were doing for the teething was working. Dr. L promptly asked me how his bowels were. The result of that conversation informed me that my darling little Nutter Butter was constipated.

So what is the remedy for a constipated three month old? A teaspoon of carro syrup in water. Who knew? And here this leave me wondering about sugar in diets and America’s childhood obesity issues but if it makes my baby stop screaming so loudly that my deaf self can hear him, well… I will try it!

Flash forward to today. After yet another night of sleeplessness and restlessness on the Nut’s half, he finally got relief. Oh yes, my son took a dump.

I am so proud.

The conversation that went with FG after this massive movement was something like this:

FG: “Well, he pooped all right but he is asleep and I don’t want to wake him to change his diaper. But lordy, I can smell it!!!”

Me: “Ok, when he wakes up change the diaper and call me back”

About half an hour later…

FG: “wow. He took a MAJOR shit.”

Me: “How major?”

FG: “MAJOR!”

Me: “was it hard? Soft? In between?”

FG: “Uhhh… I would have to say soft.”

Me: “What color was it?”

FG: “Are you serious?”

Me” “Yes!”

FG: “I would have to say green.”

Me “Green? Neon? Forest? Grass? Sludge? Emer-“

FG: “Sludge.”

I ponder for a few minutes.

Me: “How much was there?”

FG: “Excuse me?”

Me: “How much was there? A teaspoon? A tablespoon? Half a cup?”

I’ll spare you the rest of the details.

I find it rather humorous that I was sitting and discussing poop with my friend. Baby poop for that matter. I don’t think I know anyone else who would be that interested in shit other then me. What can I say: I am the first mother of my clan of friends and I am boldly going where no one has gone before.

I am done selling myself short. No really, this time I mean it.

Why Joanna, what ever are you talking about?

I am talking about employment people. Jobs. Money. Degrees.

I am talking about what I think I am worth in this working world.

In my desperate attempt to escape the daily screaming and pooping and cleaning match that is stay at home mom and house wife that my mother would shit a brick over if she could see that I have become, I have been applying, like no other, to jobs everywhere. We are talking in Metropolis, near the great lake, up in the valley, next to the big river… EVERYWHERE. Unfortunately for me, six years of schooling, a master’s degree, speaker at various conferences, tri lingual, book published, and a very diverse resume isn’t getting me shit. Why? Because I am not LICENSED. I am trying to GET licensed but I am needing a job that gives me the hours with the supervision and the education that pays back my stipend….

…That lives in the house that Jack built.

I digress….

Last week I had my second interview in Metropolis at the place where CS used to work. They were interviewing me and one other person for two positions. Safe to say that I nailed the interview. However, it pays only 36 grand a year, which is not what I am worth. My minimum asking price is 40. Plus, it is not a stipend-approved placement. Fuck that.

Also last week was a very promising placement interview with an adoption agency near the Great Lake. In fact, it was next to the docks on the Great Lake (I’ll let you figure out which one.) The job was with an adoption agency for a case manager. Perks: commute is less then a half hour with traffic; the hours are flexible; can work from home so nanny isn’t needed everyday for the nutter butter; BENEFITS; repays stipend; nice people. The down side? 24/7 on call to your case load (which is about 13-15 cases, much less then the usual 150 or so a person of my education would get.) They also flagged my resume because I knew ASL. Niiiice.

However, I walked out of that interview feeling as if I had blown the whole damn thing. I mean, really felt like there was not a shot in hell. But if there wasn’t a shot in hell, why was the guy asking me if I would need accommodations for my hearing? Why was he asking me if I would work near the river or the Great Lake or even in Metropolis? Hmmm…

Any way, yesterday they actually called me for a second interview, which I have tomorrow. I told the girl who was going to interview me that I was surprised they were still interested because I felt do discouraged when I left. She told me that Jay (the interviewer) does that to everyone. Good to know.

Today I had an interview in the valley. More like a meet and greet conversation then an interview. Too long of a commute. But it pays back the stipend for sure because it’s funded through the same program as the stipend. Hmm.

As I was talking on the phone with Moe and trying to find parking I got a call waiting beep. I clicked over, not recognizing the number and hoping it was another job hit. Sure enough, it was a woman who wanted to interview me. I told her I would call her back after this interview. Yes, I have another interview scheduled for Thursday in the Great Plains area. Not too bad. A reverse commute really.

Oh no… the good news doesn’t end there. I got home and the cell rang again. Another interview, this time with an senior’s agency in Oakville, near the great lake. Nice. In fact, the lady knew me! I went to one of her trainings when I was interning with the senior center. Excellent. Stipend repayment? Not sure but its an interview. That’s on Friday.

But no, it doesn’t end there. Yet another call came in about half an hour later. The prefix on the number on caller ID said that it was from Metropolis. Hmmm… I didn’t want to answer and have it be job interview place one and I would have to shoot them down. I sent it to voice mail.

Alas, it was from ANOTHER senior center. This interview is scheduled for next Wednesday. Originally they weren’t interested in because they were looking for some one who spoke Korean. Yeah, you are shit out of luck there. But now they are interested in me.

I am never selling myself short again. I am the mother fucking bomb.

Why do people have to be so two faced in the most realistic day-to-day adventures of life? I am not really ranting about anyone I know in particular; it’s just something that I noticed this weekend when I spent the whole weekend with Bear and Nut. We went shopping in honor of Bear DESPRETLY needing new clothes.

We went to the Yuppie Mall in Metropolis. You know the one I am talking about: every major US city has one! The one where within spitting distance from each other you can find such snobby gems like Nordstrom’s, Sac’s 5th Avenue, Macys (in two separate buildings for Christ’s sake because god forbid women and men be put together! What is this, catholic school??), Neumann Marcus, Banana Republic and a whole bunch more snotty people stores.

Give me my tar-jay any day.

WE went to Nordstrom’s first while Nut was sleeping in the pram. Here are some examples of saying and meaning:

What Bear said: “Why do I need new work clothes?”
What he meant: “I hate shopping, do we have to do it?”

What I said: “Your clothes that you have now are getting a little worn out.”
What I meant: “Look, you have holes in your pants, your shirts are frayed and there are holes in the soles of your shoes. Get the fuck over it, you need to go shopping.”

On the pants he tried on:
Said: “Those pants look a little tight in the waist dear.”
Meant: “You look like a porn star. Honey we are older and you have gained a little. Deal.”

Said: “Not sure that is quite your color.”
Meant: “No way in hell buddy.”

Said: “maybe we should look into other pants besides Khaki’s”
Meant: “I will divorce you if you buy one more set of khaki’s”

I found that I use this “pintorian” way of talking with a lot of things.

To “what an adorable baby you have!”

Said: “He is quite the sweet heart.”
Meant: “He is good until he wants something. Then plug your ears.”

To the friends who want to come over at 11pm

Said: “Probably not a good idea since by then Nut will be sleeping”
Meant: “Are you out of your fucking mind???”

To “is it true you forget the pain of delivery?”

Said: “to an extent.”
Meant: “to an extent. I was pretty dissociated and drugged and exhausted.”

To “So when is the little man getting a sister?”

Said: “Touchy subject.”
Meant: “I am not having any more kids now. I can’t do it without risk to my health. I am not interested in being an incubator again.”

To “So are you nursing?”

Said: “No I am not.”
Meant: “I didn’t produce milk and I tried to nurse for ten weeks and I did the best I could.”*

To the guy following me and Nut yesterday who were all disheveled and muttering about pretty babies:

Said: “Come near my son and you will be missing your testicles”
Meant: “Come near my son and you will be missing your testicles.”
(Don’t fuck with my kid or me)

Last night was mommy’s night out. Oh yes, I went out. WITHOUT NUT!! Where did I go? Simple, the Hurricane is in town for Nut’s Baptism, which is currently not taking place (don’t ask) so we decided last night to go out for drinks. After all, that is what I do when Hurricane is in town: we drink and laugh a lot.

We went last night to a suburb of Metropolis. We went to our favorite dive bar around here: The Cabana Club. It’s very Hawaiian themed for the city. I guess you can call it a mini-vacation spot. Too bad there are no Cabana Boys (other then the booze that is.) Only Rico, the Latino guy with no hair except bangs. Nice.

I went out and was able to wear my boots, my hair up and just relax without the screaming and teething Nut. We had fun. When we arrived we walked in and grabbed a table near the front of the bar. It was a calm night, good mix of ages, not too crowded. For about 15 minutes we waited for our waitress. She was nowhere to be seen. Finally, just as the Hurricane was getting up from the frustration to order us u some drinks at the bar, Rico came and asked us we had been helped.

“Nope.”

“I’ll get your waitress.”

Our waitress was actually up front fiddling with some wire things at a dashboard looking thing. When she finished what she was doing, she came over to us for our drinks. What was she doing? Setting up the very LOUD music. We, of course, had picked the table right near the speakers! Not only was it loud music… it was rap. Oh my.

With our drinks we had some conversations over the music. When Hurricane and I get together we run the gauntlet of subjects. Its almost as if we are making up for time with the fact that we see each other maybe once or twice a year now, unlike when we were growing up.

Here’s what we talked about (in no particular order):
Dogs
Nut
Religion
High school
Grad school
Better halves
Road trips
Music
Pu Pu platters
Getting older
resumes
job woes
crab boats
Gray hair
Annoyances with people
Drinking and partying less
Vomit and former visits to the Cabana Club
OC’s wedding
Her trip to Alaska
Relationship and parties
Alcoholic friends
Priests

Like I said, we run the gauntlet. Further more, we have a lot of fun doing it. We laugh… a lot. And laughing is always good.

Yes, we have a blast.

And yes, the Nut’s baptism is off… for now. That, my children, is a story for tomorrow…after my job interview!!!!

"People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within."

This morning I was talking in my living room to Mamma C about this past weekend's events and life with Nut in general when my cell phone rang. I looked at the number. It wasn’t any that I had on ID. In fact, the pretext of it was from one of the suburbs of Metropolis, near the small snob hick town. I answered the phone:

“Hello?”

“Hello, my name is Officer Johnson and I am calling you from the Metro Police Department this morning…”

(At this point my heart skipped a little. What had I done that warranted a phone call from the cops? A list of every illegal record-sealing thing I have done in my life popped into my head. )

“Good morning. How can I help you?”

“A gentleman came by here this morning. Someone had left a camera and what looks like a dairy on his front porch. The dairy had this number in it…”

I am sure he said more but my shriek of joy cut him of (and woke up Nut who was sleeping soundly on Mamma C). The grin on my face was immeasurable. Mamma C just looked at me.

I babbled to the cop excitedly how it must have just dropped out of my bag when I went to get my son out of the car. Someone saw both in the street, picked them up, and left them on the porch of the house I parked in front of. That man was nice enough to bring it to the police station.

Just when you lose faith in humanity, a true bright light and an honest to god GOOD person comes into your life, changing your views, if even for a moment.

I have Jo. I have my pictures of Nut. I have piece of mind. All because of at least two strangers who did the right thing.

Humanity is a beautiful thing.

Nut and I went on a grad adventure the other day. No, not true. Nut and I went and played Trophy Wife and son for one of the Bear’s most prestigious clients.

Bear’s client has a son tat works at Bear’s office. This son is one of the nicest guys I know. If I were single and a decade or more younger, I would totally date him. He is really just a genuinely nice guy and seeing as I am incredibly jaded when it comes to men, to say that means something.

Anyway, the son graduated from High School Friday night. Not just any high school… MY HIGH SCHOOL. Shhhh… hear that? The gates of hell are opening up now. Bear and the family are invited to go to the graduation. Bear can’t make it so Nut and I go instead because in Bear’s profession, it looks god to be involved. Plus, the only teacher who had faith in me in high school was teacher of the year and retiring. I figured I would say hi and tell her thanks for the faith because she was right, I did go places.

Oh my god.

Getting Nut ready for the event was hard. It seemed to me that every outfit I put on him he would immediately spit up on. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to get put into the onesie that said “Party at my crib, 2am. BYOB” with a picture of a bottle on it. NO., this was not going to happen. I was going to have him be wonderful. I was going to look fabulous. I was going to march up to the evil English teacher who literally said to me on the last day of school “Find yourself a nice man because I don’t really think you are made for anything else”, point to my 4 thousand dollar wedding ring, my angelic son, look radiant with my long hair and wrinkle free skin and brag about my degrees, publications and books. Basically, I was going to make it clear to Ekatrts that he was dead wrong about Ms. Joanna. I am incredible, kiss my ass.

When I finally got Nut into an outfit he didn’t spit up on (very cute polo and pants) I set out to get my own outfit together, I went with jeans, my clogs and a nice thick strapped brown tank that had a princess gathering under my breasts. I put on my favorite light green and gold necklace and I put my hair in the most flattering way that I could imagine. Oh yes, I looked good.

I grabbed my diaper bag (bear and I have two diaper bags. His is a backpack, mine is a camouflage side sack. Mine is better because being a mommy in Metropolis reminds me of guerrilla warfare sometimes.) and was sure to throw the camera and my dairy into the sack. The camera was for pictures. Like I said, I really like this guy. The dairy was because I knew I was going to be bored.

Nut and I arrived at the school and had to park on the main drag a few blocks away. I put Nut in his stroller, slung the diaper bag on the shoulder, and bolted across the street between cars. I probably should have taken the cross walk but oh well.

I swore when I graduated that I would NEVER step foot back on that campus. NEVER. Over a decade later, I broke my promise to myself. Honestly, walking on to that campus, somewhere in the back of my head the sound track to “The Omen” was playing.

“Just take deep breathes Joanna. There is no one you know here,” I kept muttering under my breath. “Deep breathes”

The campus has not changed at all. Still the same hollow halls where your footsteps echo. Still the same crappy, sod pocked quad where lunch takes place. Still the same ugly tan paint. Yes, nothing changed. Then I got to the football field area where graduation was to take place. New field, new pool, new locker rooms, state of the art score signs, new track, new bleachers…. Ahh, you can tell what is important to people at this school.

The stands were already packed so I knew I had a shot in hell to find the family in the bleaches. With Nut’s SUV, I decided to just sit on the track. I wandered over to the end of the track, still scanning the bleachers for the people I have met only once, on the off chance that I might see them. Nope. I settled myself into my spot. Nut beside me snoozing. I was ready for my hour and half annoyance of what was a high school graduation. AS the grads came onto the field and people began to applaud, I reached into the bag for my diary.

Let me explain something about my diary. I started my first diary when I was in the 6th grade. I was 12. I still have it. It chronicles such hilarity as meeting Hurricane, dance competitions, art class madness and, of course, the big 6th grade science experiment. I liked keeping a dairy and have kept one ever since. When I was 16, my dairy became more of a journal chronicling the day-to-day adventures and survival skills I was honing at said high school. My journal became the friend that I told EVERYTHING to. My crush on my brother’s friend, my secrets thoughts about the evil LS teacher, and my hopes for whatever my obsessions for that week were. It also talked about other stuff… sex, drugs, and alcohol… all the stuff you don’t want your mom to see. I knew my journal as Jo. My friend. My confidant. Even my best friends weren’t privy to the Jo information. There were many a times where I was worried that my Jo would be stolen. I wrote in Jo everyday, usually in class. Everyone knew I kept Jo with me at all times. What would happen if Jo fell into the wrong hands? In high school? In a school like mine? It was a nightmare that I never wanted to come true. Thankfully, it never did.

As I got older Jo became much more important to me for my sanity. When I began facing real “adult situations” in my life and couldn’t talk to anyone without feeling judged, I talked to Jo. She helped me sort out my thoughts in my very turbulent late teens and early twenties. In fact, when I turned 21, my grandfather gave me a new Jo, beautifully leather bound and Celtic knot carved. It was refillable. I used that Jo for years until he died and it hurt to look at it.

More recently, Jo has become the companion about Nut. Jo is a small, black, moleskin journal. She is wonderful. Sure, some of Jo makes it online so people can hear about how Nut is doing and sometimes how I am doing, but in reality, I think only about a fifth of my real thoughts make it online. And more recently, Jo and I have been talking about some really serious shit that not even Hurricane and Moe know about. (Yes, girlfriends are great. You love them to death. But some things they just don’t need to know.) It’s amazing what a person can work out through writing.

But I digress…

As the off key singers start up their songs for the graduation, I roll my eyes and reach for my pen and Jo… only to find that there is an empty spot where Jo should have been. I don’t panic. I notice the camera is gone too. Nut and the stroller have not been more then a foot away from me. That clunking noise when I went over some speed bumps while looking for parking must have been the camera and dairy falling out of the bag. No big deal. It just meant I would actually have to LISTEN to this pampas bullshit.

Nut began to fuss a bit so I picked him up and bounced him. He liked the speech that was first (so did I,; the guy was frigging hilarious!) the rest of the speech made me think back to over a decade ago when I sat on the same field thinking I was the bomb and I had it all figured out. 10+ years later, I realize that these kids (and they are kids) have NO IDEA what the world is about. But it was interesting to watch them sit there, bright eyes and futures wide open.

Remember how I said I wasn’t going to know anyone? Heh… karma dislikes me. Five rows behind me, I realized when one name was called, was a girl I graduated. SHE HATES ME. (That’s ok because the feeling is mutual). But she puts the blond in blond jokes and the world slut is a great description. That isn’t me being catty, everyone I know agrees. Last I heard she was cleaning offices in Metropolis. She failed out of three schools that were the “easy schools” in this tiny state we are in. don’t think she saw me. My god, she got fat (she used to be a coke thin girl. Now she has more then a rather large spare tire. I didn’t even recognize her at first, I recognized her sister!)

The boy graduated, Nut and I cheered. After wards, we wandered onto the field in the mass of graduates and their adoring families and fans. To find the boy would be a needle in a haystack. I was one of the only people there with the SUV of a stroller. The boy could find me. Besides, he knew I wanted to talk to Mrs. Smith so he knew where I would be. I decided to descend on the stage where my teacher who inspired me was. I walked up, parked the SUV, pulled out Nut (who was crying) and brazenly made my way to the stage.

I stopped in front of her. She was staring out over the crowd.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Smith?”

I was sure I would have to introduce myself. Mrs. Smith looked down, saw me and grinned.

“Joanna!!!! OH MY GOD!!! How are you? This must be Nut! Boy told me about your baby and the whole surgery and you look great and I am so happy you came!!”

I grinned as she cooed at Nut, who of course was a charmer and flirt right back, smiling his gummy smiles. I let Mrs. Smith know what I was doing, how much she inspired me (it was her Psych class that I took senior year that got me interested in the field!) it was great. What was even funnier was that she whipped out her palm pilot to show me her “retirement day 1 schedule”. I was shocked and delighted to see that number two on the list, right after sleep in, was “email Joanna Joseph for coffee”. Wow.

Boy found me and I went and hung out with him and his family. His brother cracks me up. He thinks about as highly of the school as I do. He said when he saw me, “I thought you would have burst into flames when you got here.” I laughed and mentioned my theme song from the Omen going off in my head.

All in all it was not so bad, though I never want to go back there again. I said hi to some teacher (“oh my god, you haven’t changed a bit Joanna”) and did get to mention my book and journal articles and master’s degree to a few teachers in shot of Mr. Ekrats. Ahhh… that was a dish best served cold all right.

But you knew that something had to happen. There is no way you can make a clean escape from hell. Yesterday, I went down to the car to the trunk to get the camera and diary out. I cleaned the whole car and trunk only to find… the camera and diary were missing. My heart sinks. The camera was important. It was a digital. I had pictures of Nut that I can’t replace on them. HOWEVER, more importantly… JO WAS GONE.

I feel like a friend has died. I have a good theory what happened too. Remember that bolt across the street? I think I bounced the two items out of the bag.

The irony that I lost my dairy, nay, my little black book of secrets at my fucking high school has not escaped me. My secrets are now out there for someone to read. It’s true that my name is not in the diary anywhere but I do have on inside cover, “If found please call (***)***-****. One hundred dollar reward.” No big deal. However, if someone finds it, calls and I have to pick it up, will they recognize me? Small town, big mouths, hicks with money who like to gossip. And if I “haven’t changed a bit”, what is the likelihood that someone will know who I am and spill my secrets? Because, let’s face it, Hurricane was right: “If I found a dairy on the street I would totally read it and then return it for the money”.

Face it, wouldn’t everyone do that?

I’m sooo fucked.

Oh shit.

It’s late and I have had some champagne.

This means I am over obsessing over little things.

Little things like the fact that for the first time in 15 years… I am unemployed.

Say it with me folks… oh shit.

I am now a SAHM (Stay at home mom). Yes, I am looking for work. Yes, I would love to bring a paycheck. However, thanks to certain… people… who are in certain political offices now…well, budgets are cut, jobs are scarce… yadda yadda yadda.

I am lucky that I don’t really have to work. But here inlays the problem. I had my first job at 13. I have been working all of my life. I have been making ends meat longer then I care to admit. Ironic that now that I have a master’s degree that I am unemployed. Ironic that in a city as big as metropolis I can’t really find a job.

Let’s look at my qualifications shall we?
Master’s degree in therapy
Published book (if interested in reading it email me or leave me a note)
Published articles in research journals
Speaker at conferences (three now)
National conference mentions of my book and research

And now I am a stay at home mom.

Oh my.

Don’t get me wrong; Nut is an adventure every frigging day. Today was no exception with the “projectile vomit” all over me. Figures my last day as a therapist and I would be wearing jeans instead of my usual suit and heels. In the long run, Nut actually did me a favor (I spilled coffee as I slammed into bonbon at lunch.)

Stay at home mom. I have been so long on my own that I don’t know how to relax and enjoy this moniker. Maybe I’ll read more blogs.

This morning I was running late for work. Hopping around the house, searching for the other stiletto, contacts acting funny, toothbrush in mouth, and baby on hip… I made a typical site of what a working mother in the fricking business world looks like these days. In between giving Nut a bottle, finding my wallet, packing up my laptop and making sure that my palm pilot schedule is synchronized with Bears, I managed to grab a granola bar to eat while commuting to Metropolis.

However… it couldn’t be that easy…

Nut began screaming holy hell in my ear. He obviously was not a happy camper. He was more then not a happy camper. Something was WRONG.

I waked the Nut over to the changing table. Sure enough, Nut had decided to have a dirty diaper. Not just a dirty, “look I pooped!” diaper. We are talking the mother load of shit. Green and stuck like glued to his bum and legs. I sigh. I pick up the baby wipe to clean him off only to find him pissing on himself. His own private shower of piss. Greaaaaat.

Of course this makes him screech more. I wipe off his face with the baby wipe and he calms down and smiles at me. With a smile like that I get distracted and not notice how Nut has now kicked his own ass with his feet. Yes, that’s right… Nut’s feet are now covered in smelly, dark green, sludge like shit.

Oh, to be a mom.

Eventually, I get him cleaned up. It only took four or five baby wipes. Diapered and feeling good, I put Nut into his Monkey footed PJ’s that now fit, since he is now three months and 14 pounds. Oh yes, he laughed and clapped his hands. My little man was one gracious and happy camper. Clean diaper, clean PJ’s, full belly… once again he was mommy’s little flirtatious angel. Again, I put him on my hip and begin my running around.

With Nut as my guardian angel, things fell into place quickly. I found the other stiletto (next to the front door where I kicked them off a few days ago), the contacts aligned in my eyes so focus came into play, my laptop and cell phone were packed and the palm synchronized… everything was great because my cuddly and cooing angel was with me.

As I went to hand the Nut off to the Bear (who was sleeping in) I kissed Nut’s nose.

“You are such an angel for making things go better this morning. What would I do without you?”

Nut giggled, smiled…. And the projectile vomited all over my Armani Suit. When he was done I looked at him and half expected his head to rotate 360 degrees around. Such an angelic smile, such a devilish attitude.

Maybe I should have named him Damien.

So I went to the Giggle website (because the store was just so cool) and they weren't kidding when they said small national chain! National? Please, they have them here and in California. how about a duel coast chain? I still adore the store though

Nut and I are thinking of taking a vacation. maybe we'll go visit Blue bird.

Today Nut and I took a grad adventure together. Today, Nut and I went into Metropolis on the subway. It was quite the event, seeing as Nut hadn’t been on the subway since I was pregnant with him. But I digress…

Nut and I went to metropolis because I felt like walking him around a big city for a while and not saying in the burbs like we usually do on Saturdays. While walking around the downtown area we stumbled across a little shop called “Giggle.” This boutique is a small national chain of baby stuff. They sort through all of what is available these days for babies and chose “the best for your child”. So if I don’t shop here am I not getting the best for my child? They take the guessing out of everything.

Of course I had to push the SUV in to the store. Duh!

Immediately I am greeted by Paul, a friendly young lad who showed me around the store and more importantly… to the parent’s lounge that you can use for feeding and diapers. By the way he was looking at my chest I could tell he either thought I needed to feed Nut or that I was just hot. (Hey buddy, my eyes are about a foot north of there.)

Nut slept through the whole spree I went on. What was HILAROUS was the stuffed animals they had. They had the “uglies”. Oh yes, you read that right… the uglies. These are little ugly stuffed animals that have names and stories to go with them. My god, they were funny. I bought Nut one of them. Her name is “Tray” (yeah, according to the story it’s a girl. Who knew?) Tray had three eyes and three brains. She looks like a cross between Maggie Simpson and an Ameba. I love her. So does Nut.

But here is what was funny about the Uglies. All the names were simple things like Tray, Blob, etc… except one. There was one that was called “minimum wage.”

Nope, not kidding.

Minimum wage has a beautiful little apron on him too. Now, is it just me or are the people at Giggle trying to make a political statement here? Because, let’s face it folks, minimum wage in this country is exactly what the doll is: it’s ugly.

I would have bought Nut that one but I decided he is too young to push my political views on him. Yes, I bought him Tray instead.

Today Nut it 3 months old, that’s how I justify the spoiling.

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