The Duck Learning Curve

Duck
Duck is all things cool

 

Black, white, black, white.

Step one, step two.

There is no in between, there is only logic.

This is my “work is insane” mantra.

It’s repeated often, sometimes hourly, but always under my breath.

When the yearly carnival of crazy began, with my days first blurring then blending into a wild kaleidoscope of faces; all with problems to be solved, I didn’t realize I might have lost some of my perception.

Thank goodness my son Duck, is around to remedy this situation and bring me back to reality.

Duck is still suffering growing pains and firmly within the grasp of his own crazy carnival ride of (gasp!) tween angst.

His tween town lies smack dab in the middle of Xbox is king and bordering on but not quite crossing, the girls are okay city limits.

whew.

I’m not ready for that city to rezone.

Zoning issues aside, appearance is an important thing to Duck.

Sort of.

If we’re to go by appearance is important in that…

A.  Clothes are on his body

and

B.  He’s seen the inside of the shower within the past 24 hours.

Or so I thought.

Turns out, appearance is more important to him than either of us knew until this past Monday, when Duck got up (under vehement protest of course) and dressed in the dark.

He thought he was being cool.

He thought he was defying me and my parental edict of wearing un-wrinkled clothing, fresh underwear, and preferably matching socks by rocking the arrogantly shabby look instead.

He thought wrong.

But not until he’d gone through the entire school day, more than likely grinning over what he felt was a sweeping victory over all things parenting.

He walked around school with his head held up, his eyes twinkling and his tween self just bursting with confidence and energy, so sure he was the talk of all his new admirers.

Yeah, he probably had a lot of conversations going…

He was Duck.

He was cool.

He was wearing…his mother’s pajama shirt.

All. Damn. Day.

Wanna know how to bust a tween boy’s bubble in 2 seconds or less?

Pick him up after school, goggle at the sight of him, and laugh. Laugh hard, laugh long, laugh until you hold on to the steering wheel for support.

Then? Tell him why.

He still won’t talk about it. He really gets mad when I start giggling and he knows the reason isn’t the one finger salute I got from the grandma I just passed in the fast lane.

I love Duck even if we aren’t exactly on speaking terms at the moment.

The good news is that he’s volunteered to do his own laundry from now on, lest another wardrobe malfunction occur.

sigh…

My Duck is growing up.

 

 

 

 

 

Living the dream

I made it
Steel toes have become very familiar

 

Tomorrow is my 1 year anniversary of early mornings, steel toes and a hard hat.

Doesn’t sound like much, true, but for me?

Freaking outstanding because I really, really hate mornings.

Especially early ones.

I came here tonight after another (successful) day of living through gearing up for the craziness that only comes once a year. One accompanied by all the wildness of a carnival, but coupled with more importance and urgency.

As it should be.

I sat down intending to write on a different topic tonight, I did, but this seems to be the only one that’s wanting to be written.

I blame the Fireball.

It’s more than capable of standing up to the raised eyebrows I’m likely evoking.

Take this haters
I’m feeling pretty darn smug…

 

Right.

Thing is when I started this job, I was asked if I was nuts. Surely I must be, so far from my past career, insanity could be the only possible explanation for this dramatic change.

So physically demanding and rough. And certainly not like me at all.

That must be it, I had officially gone down the hill and ’round the bend.

I was informed, and by more than a few smugly smiling faces, that I wouldn’t last a month, a week, not even a day.

Bets were placed.

Guess who’s smug now?

I'm feeling pretty darn smug. If not exactly a beauty queen...
Smug…if  not exactly a beauty queen…scuz the sweaty hair and dirt

 

I’ve had my share of victories, great big ginormous victories, but am not without some regrettable losses too.

I suppose it’s the push.

You know.

The balance that must be maintained. Good with the bad and all that stuff.

I try to remember this every day.

Though admittedly, some days are better than others.

Today, I was able to speak to an overseas friend I haven’t spoken to in years. (You know who you are)

One who made my day, just by hearing their voice. And made me feel like I’d come home.

The thing I’m thinking about right now?

I made it.

Oh yeah, you better believe I’m smiling.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CeeLee’s Smile

 

Sorry I’ve been away, but I’ve so much to show you…

I hated my smile
Always hiding my smile

 

Let’s recap.

I’ve hated smiling for years.  (Refer to above picture) I abhorred picture time and would stretch my mouth as wide as I could, in hopes that no teeth would show.

That is, if the flat out running away wasn’t an option. Most times, it was not, sad to say.

But as much as I dreaded pics and my photo sniper family and the subsequent hours spent, trying to filter out the many off-guard moments captured in time, I dreaded going to the dentist more.

Because it never ended happily for me.

That came to a screeching halt this summer when I decided that I was tired of ducking my head or putting Duck’s big toothy grin in front of me as camouflage.

After all, this has been my breakout year. The year I took back my life and walloped the hell out of some big ole dragons.

Still strong
I got brave and fixed my smile.

A side note?

He’s happier too, at not having to be front and center or placed at weird angles, as my human smile shield.

 

I love my smile
Instead of my camouflage, Duck’s a photo bomber

 

It wasn’t easy.

Sure did hurt a ton.

Took almost the whole summer, but its been worth all the effort.

Yep, this is me.

Life is good
And I’m smiling

 

Oh yeah, before I forget.

Did I mention I’m back and better than ever? Consider it mentioned.  ;)

Love,

CeeLee

 

 

 

Pineapple Pain with a Side of Novacaine

 

While it’s been fun to share a few of my older posts on Facebook (thanks to everyone who walked down memory lane with me) while I regain my balance, some fresh stuff is long overdue.

Okay.

What can I say? Life has been busy. I’m off-balance, off schedule, and beginning to get (more) weird around the edges. Since January, my days have fallen into a wake and shake beginning pre-dawn with a sag and drag finale back towards home, always with the hope that it’s before sunset.

Though when I feel exceptionally energetic, I do try to switch it up and change my sag and drag to more of a slouch and wince end. Because I like to live life on the edge and be unpredictable and all that crap.

Lately, I’m lucky to remember my name, so asking me a complicated question (Hey, did you know your bangs are on fire?) and expecting a coherent answer is just plain mean.

Still, there are some days that are more memorable than the rest of the blur. Like figuring out that running on a treadmill in yoga pants with the mp3 player clipped to the waistband does not-repeat-does NOT do anything whatsoever to enrich the lives or improve the health and well-being of anyone.

Add to that piece of knowledge is that wearing underpants under said yoga pants is ALWAYS a good idea. For everyone.

So there’s that.

Oh and my finding out that what is being said and what my ears hear may in fact be 2 totally different things, yeah, THAT has led to very interesting if sort of confusing conversations with the boss (Did you just tell me that I’m a pain in your pineapple?? Was that really called for and what does that MEAN?!) various friends and family members.

Duck, on the other hand, loves it. Gee, I wonder why.

And lastly, there’s the picture below.

 

Dental Drama
I trust dentists as much as I trust that my friend is telling me the truth about her dog loving his leash

 

This is me last Friday. I hadn’t been my normal happy-go-lucky, boom the bass til my teeth rattle me awake in the morning and drag my tired butt home in the evening self and the boss took note.

Despite it might be the bass and teeth rattling start to my mornings that caused the issue to begin with is…well, really, who cares?

No, the point is, I had to take the pic to send to my boss because she was serious when she informed me that I could no longer grace the workplace with my overflowing bounty of wit and beauty and well…mouthiness until I went to the dentist and was able to provide proof of a bloody stump and/or hole-she wasn’t partial to either choice.

Alright, you got me.

So I may have not worded it EXACTLY like she did, but trust me, the intent was there.

Nice, right?

I love my job and I want to keep it but I still do things on my own terms, so I opted for a pic of my feet, wearing the ugliest steel toes only I would wear, knowing those shoes alone would positively identify me, while the dentist chair would prove my location much more nicely than a picture of senseless blood and gore.

Because I care.

Thing is, she wasn’t being a pain in my pineapple (did I mention my hearing is starting to go but in the way of all things funny?) despite the hard-edged ultimatums issuing through gritted but perfectly healthy teeth and furrowed eyebrows and possessing hearing that a bat would envy.

She was very concerned.

And tired of me being tired. And not eating. And being unnecessarily mean, though I will gladly go on record and swear most victims had it coming and I can attest to being able to afford to lose a few meals.

She had watched me transform into an Orajel swilling junkie who snarled at terrified vendors before gobbling Excedrin like candy over the space of 2 weeks and she was over it.

She wasn’t buying my promise that I’d go when I got paid, not when I’d already tried that one-twice over-she wasn’t swayed by my whispered confession that I’m scared stupid by dentists, and didn’t dignify my impassioned declarations that nothing good had ever come from my visiting one but drama and pain with so much as a smirk.

“Don’t come back until it’s done.”

Well, fine. There’s the pic.

She’s right though. I did feel better despite having blood all over my shirt, sporting a lopsided chipmunk look and…listening to the people in line behind me at Walmart wonder loudly enough that even I could hear them, if I had lost or won the fight.

Because I’m CeeLee and ah kin ooo thiff.

But I totally draw the line at getting hearing aids.

 

 

Finding humor in an ADHD life without water wings

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