bad mother

Punk is what you might call "green." If he drove a car - it would be a hybrid. If he built a house - it would have solar panels. So I did feel justified in buying him this shirt at Hot Topic . . . half environmental - half smart-alec . . 100% Punk. It says:
Keep the Earth clean - it's not Uranus.

for melanie

We love Melanie. I have completely dug this chick since the day I met her. She held Punk on the day he was born, drove my dad to his doctors appointments (albeit at 86 miles per hour - possibly contributing to that valve replacement he needed). She's the only person who ever opened a Christmas gift, looked right at me and said "WTF is this?" (she had every right - I purposely bought the most hideous shirt I could just to see what she'd say). She was there on my wedding day, threw Punk's baby shower, always comments on my blogs, and still makes me laugh all of the time.

So, I was devastated to get her text message this week - "It's cancer."

Breast cancer. Surgery is scheduled for next week. I am glad they are acting fast, but think about her every day . . . and hope you will too.

She is one tough chick - and I wanted you guys to know - 'cause even tough chicks could use the extra prayers.

why?

I really love my job. My favorite part is when I get kids with some rhythm and get to throw together a pop routine - LOVE that. And while I will be the FIRST to admit that not everything I have put together has been mind-blowing (or even good), I was appalled to see this:


I love this song - plan to use it for a class - but MY LORD! Who choreographed this?!! It is like Sesame Street Live! This choreographer had 'N SYNC to work with and that is what he gave them? If THAT is all they needed - why didn't anybody call ME? Aside from Justin's sweet robot action . . .this is like 3rd grade stuff.

And while we are on the subject - does anybody else think the guy in blue is completely pointless? He makes everybody else look bad . . . and I don't mean just because of the terrycloth wristbands, and football makeup - maybe he could try actually picking up his lead feet, or maybe even looking like he knows where he is... I mean even Fatone looks good compared to him - and he is like 47.

I should have better things to do with my time.

kookamart

Just when I thought it could not get worse . . . .

I woke up yesterday with Punk in my face, ranting like a used car salesman. "You have GOT to get up. There is a whole store in Kooka's room - KookaMart, and it is FULL of great deals." I hate getting up anyway, and waking up to this is a little more than I can bear, but he is not letting up, so I roll out of bed and follow him to Kooka's room.

There are dozens of items set out - all labeled with purple price tags. None of them less than a dollar. Stuffed animals on the floor, hair accessories on the desk. "This stuff is dirt cheap," Punk says, "Perfect for selling at a garage sale."

I am still pretty groggy, not much of this is making sense. "But we're not having a garage sale."
"Yeah I know. It's snowing out - nobody would come." He shakes his head at me like he's talking to Rainman, and speaks more slowly. "BUT, the thing is, you could BUY this stuff at our low prices, then sell it at the garage sale for MORE money, and make a huge profit."

He's totally serious. And while I admire his grasp of economics - nobody - especially me, is gonna pay $2.75 for a set of used hair clips that I already paid for once at Target. They cost me a dollar-fifty NEW.

I want to be supportive - really I do - I appreciate the endeavor, but what a rip off!

And speaking of rip-offs . . . .I look to Kooka, standing at the cash register. She's wearing a side ponytail she's fashioned herself, chomping her gum, with one hand on her hip. I rub the sleep out of my eyes, because I cannot be seeing what I think I am, covering the table in front of her.

"Wait a minute - that is MY stuff!"
She shrugs her shoulders, "Yeah - so?"
"SO?! You can't sell me my OWN stuff!"
"Why not? We found it."
"FOUND it?!"
"Yeah - it's no big deal, you can buy it back."

I am completely speechless. They both look at me like I am the crazy one -like the finders keepers rule applies to everything we own. And while I applaud their entrepreneurial spirit, I do have my limits.

"Come on Mom," Punk says, "We made it cheap."
"No you didn't . . . and that's not the point!"
"Oh COME on - it's not like we took anything GOOD. I mean - who would want this stuff anyway?"
"ME!"
They look at each other and roll their eyes. Then he motions to her with a giant stage whisper, "You better let her have it, I mean nobody else is gonna buy that junk anyway."

Kooka sighs heartily and gathers my things together - 4 books, my favorite lipgloss, a pair of earrings that were sitting in the bathroom, and my car keys.

I bundle my belongings up in my arms, stare at them through sleepy eyes - still not sure if this is a dream. They seem genuinely disappointed that I didn't buy anything. And I am genuinely relieved that they are still too short to reach the china or my jewelry box.

the coupon

Did I even MENTION . . that when he got home, Aaron received a COUPON for Spa Bonita?
Hand made "fancy clothes - fancy you - good for one dollar off."

And wait just a MINUTE . . . why did he get a coupon for half off, while I paid full price, plus tip?

It was because (as Punk so delicately put it), "Let's face it Mom, it takes a lot more work to make you look good than it does Dad."

spa bonita

Punk and Kooka gave me a treat today . . . a trip to "Spa Bonita."

Ever heard of it? It's right next to "Fitness Club" - remember that place? There is no danger of severing your ACL, but the lack of sanitary practices at Spa Bonita, could leave you with a good case of pink eye.

Spa Bonita is run by a cutthroat manager, who sprints through your home shouting, "makeovers - two bucks!" When you tell him you don't have two bucks and ask for a family discount, he puts his hands on his hips, and says, "Listen lady - you don't have two lousy dollars? This is not a charity . . . we are trying to make a living."

The chairs in Spa Bonita are 3 sizes too small, and they demand payment up front. First there is the manicure service - purple sparkly nail polish. The stylist works very hard, while the manager sits at the table counting sheckles on his very loud and obnoxious cash register. It is not until he hears that stylists earn tips for their work, that he decides to pitch in with the creative process.

Next is hair styling - I choose the Hawaian look - finger combed hair with a pink flower tucked in my ear. Kooka applies natural blush while Manager Punk, smears my eyelids with creamy white shadow. I can actually see the dirt under his nails as he continually pokes me in the eye and mutters "whoops."

There is lipstick applied, accessories chosen - but the best part is when the sylist goes into your closet for you and picks a new outfit. Not only does she tell you what would look fabulous, but she is quick to point out what doesn't. ("I have always hated this shirt" she says.) She settles on a silky pink number, and tells me to change.

I walk back into the spa - met with appraising looks from both Punk and Kooka - and pronounced "beautiful." At which point Punk says, "not that you NEEDED a makeover - you were always beautiful, " . . . thereby earning his tip.

The makeover isn't bad . . . I'm just afraid they're gonna open a smoothie shop or a tanning salon next.

mean streak

Auntie M and Uncle Cares-a-lot recently revealed the gender of their unborn child.
I decided to share this information with Punk and Kooka - and did not get the reaction I expected.

I assumed Kooka would be disappointed - not so.

"Hey you guys Auntie M found out what her baby will be."
Punk says "What is it?"
"A boy."
Silence for a moment and then Kooka shouts, "YES!" points her finger right in Punk's face and says, "Ha!" There is a look of absolute gloating on her face - a look I have not seen before.

Even Punk looks surprised when he says, "What?"

She looks from me, to him, and back again. She literally rubs her hands together like an evil Disney Villain about to poison a princess. "Ha!" she says again, "I will still be the favorite!"

I laugh out loud. "Whose favorite?"

"EVERYONE'S! Auntie M will still think I am the best girl. Grandma, Grandpa, You , Daddy, all the Uncles and aunts will still love me best!" She takes another poke at Punk, "Ha! And guess what Punk? Everyone is gonna love that new, cute baby better than you."

For a moment, Punk is uncharacteristically silent. I can see the gears spinning - he's looking for a smart-alec remark, but nothing comes. Instead he just looks at me with raised eyebrows and a half smile that says - "Can that be true?"

I assure him it isn't, and we both look at Kooka who is leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, smiling at both of us - reveling in her victory. Who knew?