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Wednesday, April 30, 2014

The joys of surgical sterilization

Some days I am thankful I got fixed. I absolutely love my babies. But if I had so much as one more kid, I'm not entirely sure I'd make it out of childhood without a mini-vacation to an inpatient psychiatric clinic.

As it is, I'm not sure I'm going to make it through the next 10 years without some form of counseling. These kids are bad. These kids kill me. These kids push my buttons.

The big one is generally rambunctious. He sometimes does bad things. The little one laughs when the big one does bad things. Which means the big ones does bad things more.

They are both incredibly messy creatures. If they are eating it and it falls out of their mouth, they leave it where it lays. If they are holding it and it falls out of their hands, generally they kick it to where it shouldn't be. If they are playing with something and it breaks, they just hide it around the house hoping I won't notice.

If it can be eaten, someone is always eating it. If it can be broken, someone is always trying. If it can be a loud toy, it will be a loud toy. Even quiet toys are loud if you bang them on the coffee table hard enough. If it can be spread all over the floor, it will be spread all over the floor.

Keep in mind, one of these babies is new. Not quite a year old. He's moveable, but he hasn't figured out how to ambulate while carrying something. I'm sure when he figures that out, there won't be a clean spot in my house.

I only have 2. I will never have any more. I have been surgically sterilized (for which I owe my OB/GYN a huge thank you card and some flowers for). Just the thought of having more babies gives me goosebumps and it makes me cringe.

For the record, a woman in the big ones daycare has so many children she needs an extended van to transport them all. The very moment I realized a regular minivan wouldn't fit my crew of children, I would have drowned myself in the shower. God love that woman, but there is no way in hell I could do it. I thought about that the entire drive home and realized that 2 is so many more kids than I need, I literally could not do more.

For those of you who have more than 2 children, my heart goes out to you. No matter how many times you say you love your life, a tiny part of me refuses to believe that.

Scientific facts why I find people stupid

I've recently come to a stunning conclusion that is about to change my entire life.

I have incredibly selfish, stupid friends.

I based this on scientific fact, really. The last few weeks I have been watching the interactions I've been having with people. Or the lack there of, honestly. And I've completely concluded that if they even still bother to talk to me, they are generally idiots.

Before anyone's panties get bunched, let me give you a few facts. Or more specifically, reasons why I have come to this conclusion.

1- "I've been so busy, I haven't had time to get back to you."
                           Really? Too busy? With the invention of texting, it takes about 7 seconds to read a message and respond. 7 seconds. There are 86,400 seconds in a day. You can't spare 7 of them to answer me? I don't buy that crap for a hot minute. I can see not responding right away. I can see taking hours to get back to me. But really, if I have to wait weeks to hear from you, chances are by the time you write me back, I'll have deleted you from my phone. Those kind of people are not the kind I wish to waste my time on. I consider them to be incredibly selfish.

2- "I completely forgot!"
                             I forget things. On a daily basis, I have no idea where my keys are. I have no clue what day of the month it is most of the time. I sometimes have to be reminded of when it's time for me to go to work. So if anyone is guilty of forgetting things, it's me. But there are some people who seem to forget things when it's convenient for them. If people don't want to help out with something, they forget. If people don't want to just say no, they forget. I'm basically tired of being an afterthought. My entire family is. It seems like more often than not, we are the people everyone thinks of when everyone else is busy. Well, frankly, that doesn't work for me anymore.

3- "I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything"
                             So, let me get this straight. You READ my message (or email or text or however you heard from me), and just didn't answer? This makes me more butt hurt than anything. You READ what I had to say, you took the time to THINK about it, but then when your brain didn't come up with a witty response, you put your phone away and went back to your life? Oh hell no. Say anything. Say "ok" or "you're an idiot" or something. I can't grasp that people don't know what to say. I ALWAYS know what to say. I usually say it even when I shouldn't. I think you people do too, you're just too scared to do it.


The long and short of it is this: I am getting tired of being pushed aside. It happens so frequently that I am actually having to write about it. And it's not just me. It's my entire household. When my husband and I sit down and have a talk about how we are always on the outside looking in, it sparks a reason for me to evaluate how things are working out.

I am giving it until May 1st of next year. In the next 12 months, if we don't see a big change in our lives, I am going to do everything I can to convince my husband it's time to cut ties and run. I am slowly cutting people out of my life now. It's easy to change our lives. Both of us can do our jobs somewhere else.

Maybe I'm being unreasonable. But I figure if I can raise 2 boys, have a household to run, cook, clean, run errands, go to a hundred meetings a month, write a blog, write a book, go to work, take classes to keep my license, go to trainings, crochet AND still keep in touch with people, I can't see why you all are having such a tough time of it.

Or maybe it's a case of people being too chicken shit to tell me they don't want to be my friend anymore. Either way, figure your shit out people or I'll figure it out for you. I don't have time for all that silly nonsense in my life. DID YOU SEE THE LIST OF STUFF I HAVE TO DEAL WITH ALL THE TIME?????





Friday, April 25, 2014

Depression and my loving "husband"

I read someone else's blog. Actually, the only blog I follow with regularity. My cousin. Who is sharing her perspective on divorce. It's very real, and very heartfelt. Then I write about having shit on my pants and food in my hair.

Quite the spectrum isn't it? And it also made me think "Shouldn't I be sharing more? After all, isn't that what blogs are for? To release very real emotions?" So I thought maybe I should give this a try.

I have been getting more and more lazy with what I'm supposed to be doing. I simply can't keep on top of what needs to be done in my every day life. I am missing things, forgetting things, just not having the motivation to do them.

I was diagnosed with depression a long time ago. Normally, I have things under control. I manage to do acceptable without being medicated. But when I get stressed, and I feel like my list is getting too long to handle, I shut down.

I play facebook games. I do the bare minimum. I think about all the things that I SHOULD be doing and waste an entire day planning and never accomplishing. I am starting to believe I may have a touch of ADD and Autism myself. Doing all the research to make me a better parent has made me see that I fit a lot of the typical behaviors for these as well.

I really need to figure out how to kick this in the ass once and for all. I'm hoping that my "husband" realizes that I'm not just pretending to be this way to get out of things. I really truly feel absolutely depressed. I usually do this time of year. The not-quite-cold-not-quite-warm-can't-go-outside-because-it-rains-all-the-time days are the worst. And we have had quite a few in a row.

Someday I will figure it out. Right now I'm just thankful that I have the person in my life that I do. I'm grateful to him. And I'm going to go play with the kids until he gets home to fix my vacuum. I could probably try to do it myself, but he would just have to fix it when he got home anyway.

Poor guy. Lord knows how he puts up with me. But I'm totally thankful that he does.

Thursday, April 24, 2014

Oh Play-Doh......

I haven't been around much this week. I mean, in theory I haven't really left my house, but I've been away from social media. Ok, I facebook a lot. I haven't blogged. Nothing funny has happened. Nothing disastrous has happened. And I'm really far behind on my credits I need to keep my license. And I was working on a blanket.

On paper, I look like I actually have a life!

Tonight, as with every Thursday night, I had to work. I only worked until 9pm. But that meant Daddy was in charge of bedtimes. Normally, Daddy rocks at bedtime. I come home after work and everyone is peacefully sleeping, and Daddy is playing PlayStation. Tonight, this was NOT what happened.

I returned home to find the baby sleeping. Which is amazing because for someone who is supposed to spend a minimum of 12 hours asleep a day, the little shit never sleeps. Like ever. He is way worse than Child 1, and I believe is the reason I have these funky new eye wrinkles. My eyes don't spend enough time closed.

Child 1, however, was still awake. And eerily quiet. So quiet that I thought Daddy had done a bang up job of putting the children to bed. Until Daddy went up to the bathroom. That's when we found what I shall refer to as "IT".

"IT" is an empty play-doh container. Which was full before bedtime. "IT" is a 5 year old with strange blue lips, blue tongue and blue hands. "IT" is a 5 year old carefully explaining how he thought he might have been hungry, so he ate the play-doh. "IT" is also the reason I'm betting on having a weekend filled with laxatives and play dates in the bathroom. Play-doh, from what I can tell, doesn't digest well.

It's a wonder I have managed to keep these children alive as long as I have. I certainly hope they make play-doh with the thought in mind that children will eat large amounts of it. I already had to call poison control for me once this year, if I have to call again, they may send someone out to check on the well-being of my children.

For the record, Child 1 is now peacefully sleeping as well. At least until he wakes me up to tell me his stomach hurts....

Sunday, April 20, 2014

An awkward conversation may lead to needing bail money

By now, my faithful readers probably know something I'm going to reveal right now.

I'm really good at being awkward. Or more specifically I'm really good at putting myself into awkward situations I had no intention of being involved in. This time, through no fault of my own, I landed in an uncomfortable position that I have never been in before. And hopefully never will be again.

How the hell do you go visit your new neighbors and tell them their child may be the spawn of Satan? Ok, maybe not literally. I'm sure he wasn't bred and brought here specifically to drive me to evil. But it sure feels that way. On a holy day, none-the-less.

Said child will let himself into houses all over the neighborhood in the hunt of my child. He will play relentlessly on my porch, even when we have asked him to go home 15 times. We had family in from out of state today. We wanted to visit them. Not babysit another kid I didn't create. He even pulled my hair while I was trying to take family pictures.

Surprisingly enough, I didn't turn around and curse at him. But boy, did I want to. Instead, in my meanest Mommy voice and sharpest glare, I told him if he didn't settle down and behave like he was supposed to I was sending him home. And he couldn't ever come back. Shortly after that exchange, I had to send him home. About 11 more times. The kid is like athlete's foot. He just keeps sneaking up on you.

On 3 separate occasions today, his family could be heard in their own yard, questioning where their son was. Like me clarify this. HIS SISTER questioned it. His parents were blissfully unaware their child had just let himself into someone's house who owned a rather large unpleasant dog. He was, again, hunting my child.

Please understand, I am not blaming the child. When given free reign, a 5 year old will most certainly run with it. But come on. I also own a 5 year old, and his ass isn't walking into other people's houses without them knowing about it. I managed to teach my child some kind of politeness. And respect. He may sometimes forget it, or he may not accurately say what he wants to. But he does it.

My kids are assholes. But my kids are assholes of the mouthy variety. My kid has no problem putting you directly in your place. I suppose he got that from his mother. Unfortunately, I have a feeling this conversation will require kid gloves. Obviously, they aren't really great parents. I'm sure pointing it out will go over much like a lead balloon.

And for my friends who are about to tell me that this is in no way, shape or form my problem- you may be right. It may not be my problem. But he is coming, uninvited, into my home. He is breaking things our hard earned money purchased. He is essentially stalking my house. At 5 years old. While his parents do lord knows what. So in essence, I have made it my problem. Someone has to stick up for the kid before he ends up in juvie.

And yes, I would absolutely be that parent who smacks another person's kid. My yard, my house, my rules. There are two options here: follow my rules when you are here, or don't be here.

And for my friends who think I am too hard on my child- let me kindly point out he is the one enforcing the rules with his friends when I am not directly in their space. He knows right from wrong. He knows what will happen if he doesn't listen. And frankly, as far as I'm concerned, that's a sign of raising a child correctly.

Responsibility and greatness are measured by what you do when no one is looking. Teach that to your children and you won't have to worry about what he/she does when you aren't around.

So, here's to hoping my next post isn't brought to you via the county lock-up! Maybe you all should start gathering bail money just in case.

Friday, April 18, 2014

Your lack of responsibility is making my life harder....

My son has been good at preschool for about 2 weeks. This is a huge deal, since we usually have some kind of "incident". My son is a huge fan of growling at his friends when he gets mad. Apparently this is distressing to the school staff. I guess growling got added to the list of CHILD CAN NOT's after the school shootings started. I personally think growling is ok. I growl at people, and I'm in my thirties. Certainly beats hitting people.

And yesterday, I got to hang out at my son's school for Family Day. Let me give you a piece of advice. If your child's school has a family day, don't go. Say you have to work, or give yourself food poisoning, or something similar. Just don't go. I really enjoyed hanging out with MY kid, but there is no way that hanging out with 16 preschool kids is enjoyable.

By the time I convinced him to leave school 30 minutes early, I was ready to punch people. The fact that my 5 year old manages to deal with that EVERY DAY and not punch some kids lights out deserves a prize. And he got one, we took him to Hoopla's and played a bunch of games. Because I left that building so impressed with him that I didn't know what to do about it.

I am convinced that everyone aged 3-7 is an asshole. I recently called my children assholes. I believe they are. They do things on purpose to make me mad. Trust me, I know it. BUT, they listen. They are the kind of kids who will be total assholes until someone gives them the stink eye and growls to stop what they are doing right now. (Again, I'm 31 and I growl. It's a common reaction to annoyance I think.) Some of these other kids, I could have yelled at the top of my lungs and thrown things at them and they still would have been assholes.

There are kids who live here on our street. My kid plays with them. These kids are at MY house, and not listening to me. I actually sent one of them home for being a total jerk to ME. I'm big. I'm grown. And if I wouldn't have gotten arrested, I would have hauled him across the porch and beat his ass. It was at that moment I completely understood why back in the day, my neighbors beat my ass before sending me home to my mother to get my ass beat again. I wish that were still the case. I'm totally ok with that. I hated it then, but now as a parent, it needs to be done.

I, in the last week, have watched more kids get away with things they shouldn't than ever before. I'm also positive that the reason the amount of people in jail is going up is because more people aren't smacking their children. I'm not talking about smacking and leaving bruises kind of child abuse punishment. But there is nothing wrong with smacking a kids rear end every now and then. It didn't kill me. It didn't kill you. And if you tell me your parents never hit you, I want sworn statements from them. Because I don't believe it.

So here's my advice of the day. Stop being afraid of your children. If they are no taller than your shoulders, smack their ass when they are being totally bad. If they weigh less than half of what you weigh, wash their mouth out with soap when they are verbally belligerent. Take control. Be parents. Those of us actually being parents are having a really hard time over here. It's so hard to make our own children follow rules when they see other children running around having free reign. I can't control my child because you aren't controlling yours.

They are kids. Kids need to learn somehow. And how will that happen if you don't teach them? It's not the schools responsibility to discipline your child. It's their job to teach them. It's not your neighbors job to discipline your child. It's their job to keep an eye on them while your children are at their house. It's not your parent's job to discipline your child. They raised you, and now it's your turn.

Take some responsibility for what you created. Because plain and simple, and for all of social media to see, I will start doing it if you can't. I have no problem going to school and saying that the next child who hits my child with no consequences will be getting a visit from me at home. I'll be happen to share my ideas with their parents. I have no problem yelling at kids who aren't mine. If you're going to be at MY house, you will follow MY rules. Or you won't be here anymore.

In case you missed it, I'm not scared of my kids. I'm also not scared of other kids. And I'm not scared of their parents either. Straighten up and fly right people. Raise your damn kids. Have a damn job. Get with it. I'm tired of doing it for you. And I'm tired of my kid thinking it's ok to be a freeloading-constant-wanting-always-asking-expecting-stuff-for-nothing-whiny-hitting-screaming-bully-asshole because YOUR kids are teaching him that.

Parents should have to pass some kind of test before they can bring their kids home from the hospital....

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Disaster

Maybe I'm growing up.  

Ok, I'm not growing up.

Maybe I'm becoming responsible. 

Nope. Not it either. 

Oh, I know. I don't give a shit!


Today, I went to get my license renewed. In a hoodie. With no make up on. Possibly with food in my hair. 4 years ago, during picture taking time, I did my hair, my make up. I looked cute. 

Today, I looked middle aged. My hair is gray. My double chin was especially visible. My pants had god knows what on them (but they weren't in the picture I reasoned). I even had my muffin top thing going on. 

I have become the mother of two boys. As long as I don't smell bad, it's become acceptable to go out in public this way. There are a few things wrong here. 

1) I no longer feel pretty. This is damning in many ways. I don't try to be pretty because I don't feel that way. I blame daddy because I most certainly didn't have these two kids alone. It's absolutely not really all his fault. And this thinking has landed me in some bad places over the years. I hate that I feel this way and got a gym membership to overcome it. But I feel too bad to go the the gym. I plan to just get over it and get back to me. 

2) I punish myself for being "not enough". I'm not skinny enough, smart enough, tough enough, or strong enough. One bad parenting day can lead to days of eating chocolate and wearing baggy pants with my hair in a ponytail. One bad day of not getting enough done in the house can tailspin me for days and then even more doesn't get done. I'm trying to figure out how to make this stop, but so far I've been unsuccessful.  

3) I have bad kid days. The worse I feel about me, the worse I parent. Oh, you want a bag of cheetos an hour before dinner?  Why the hell not. This is unfair to my kids, me and Daddy. I try really hard not to have this happen, but it does. Then I feel bad and we run back into problem #2. 

In case no one told you guys, parenting is hard. Not just because of the kids. I make parenting hard too. I don't live up to what I think I should be some days. The long and short of this is that while parenting is the hardest thing most of us ever do, being a parent with questionable mental stability is downright awful. I second guess a lot, I agonize, I fail. 

If these two little completely helpless things didn't need me, I'd have quit this parenting gig a long time ago. I'm patiently waiting until they can move out. Then I can worry about what's going on while I drink. 

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Today I became a better mom

Today I did something moderately frightening. I participated in a federal review for my son's preschool. I went in with the mindset of telling them all the things I intensely hated.

This did not happen.

Instead, I told them all the things I loved. When the moment came for me to open my mouth, I only had one thought.

My son goes to school every day, he loves his teachers and he has friends.

A year ago this month,  I sat in a daycare office and heard how a teacher wanted to quit her job because of how hard it was to teach my son. He was "mean", he was "unruly", he was the model of a "bad child". And it wasn't the first I had heard it. That was time number 3. By the third time of hearing these thjngs, you begin to question your parenting. Did I mess him up so bad that he can't even behave at school? Am I doing this really wrong? What the hell is wrong with ME? With US?

I haven't heard this once at his preschool. I've heard "bad day" and "rough morning", but never once "bad kid". I don't get phone calls to pick him up early because he can't be handled. I don't dread taking him there knowing what will happen in an hour.

Honestly, for that alone, those girls get a gold star. Not only do they treat my son with respect (which was lacking other places), they teach him how to respect other people. He hasn't hit anyone in months. He doesn't scream at people anymore. I have what other parents have had all along. I have a kid I can send to school and not worry all day.

He gets hugs from kids when he gets there and before he leaves. He loves to teach me the songs they sing during music. He taught me the backwards alphabet.

I left that room knowing I had things I didn't like, but in the end the good outweighed the bad. That federal reviewer heard none of my bad. I feel like I did something big today. Something that just last year I wouldn't have done.

I became a real mom. I saw that school through his eyes and realized he loves it just as it is, and so what if I don't like something silly. So he goes home an hour early?  And I have to have meetings twice a month? My life isn't ending. And my kid is getting what he wants. What he needed.

He has friends. He has fun. He learns.

And damn it, I'm good but I can't give him all that here. And he deserves it. And frankly, I'm proud of myself. Last year, I couldn't have done that. Maybe his school is teaching me something too.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Boys......

My son has friends. Great, right? Well........

Let's discuss this. I like that my son has friends. I like that my son has friends on my block. I like that they come get my son to play.

What I don't like is the noise level that occurs at my house when they are here. Hahahaha.......

My house is currently the neighborhood hang out for all the boys ages 5-8. I knew my kid was loud. I knew my kid played hard. What I didn't know was what would happen when you put a large group of just boys together. It's so loud. Being within 10 feet of them may actually cause my ears to bleed.

I intend to still be the neighborhood hangout. It's kinda fun being the house they all want to come hang out at. But after today, I learned a few things.

1) I need more juice boxes. Boys drink juice boxes like they are going out of style. They powered through an entire case this afternoon.

2) I need more indestructible toys. Boys are mean to things. Very mean. I need toys that will hold up to becoming swords and stabbing devices and thrown down the front concrete stairs 15 times.

3) Boys are mean to each other. I've had to break up more fights today than I ever have in my life. And I used to live at the bar. I've seen plenty of bar fights and they are less vicious than the fights of 5 year old boys.

4) I need to take more naps. If I am going to be the sole adult watching these kids, I need naps. Lots of them. Way more than I'm taking now. I don't know where they get their energy. Maybe it's all those damn juice boxes.


Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go call Daddy and see when he's coming home. I definitely need a break from boys.

Funny versus Entertaining

Life isn't always funny, but it's always entertaining. Make sense? Not really, huh?

There's a difference between funny and entertaining. Funny is downright-laugh-out-loud-share-the-story-with-all-your-friends-good-times-ness. Entertaining is occasionally-hanging-your-head-in-shame-but-still-sharing-the-story-anyway-while-chuckling-ness.

I live in the entertaining portion of life. Not much that happens is funny. I mean, sure, it's funny as hell to you people. But not so funny to me. I am sometimes ashamed by what occurs around me. Most of these stories come from my children. They shame me. I am technically ashamed sometimes to be their mother.

This usually occurs when my children say something downright horrible that I have no explanation for. Like yesterday, my son said something completely horrible about someone's appearance. Thank god he didn't say it TO them. Just quietly about them to my mother.

Still a bad plan. Still have to teach him that there is no occasion when this kind of behavior is ok. If it's ok to say it behind people's backs today, then he will probably say it out loud tomorrow or next week. Plain and simple, my child is an ass. An ass. Unintentionally of course but still an ass.

I was embarrassed. But I also laughed when my mother told me what was said. NOT BECAUSE I FOUND HUMOR IN WHAT HE SAID! I laughed because this is what my life has been reduced to. My life has become a daily job of explaining things I shouldn't have to explain. I know all parents have to tell their kids things, because they just don't know.

But I am not a fan of explaining when it's ok to touch your hoo-hoo and when it's not. (Good-bathtub Bad-preschool). I'm not a fan of explaining when it's ok to tackle people (Good-wrestling with Daddy Bad-preschool). I'm not a fan of explaining when it's ok to dig at your ass (Good-never Bad-always).

I feel like when it's something non-embarrassing, Child 1 seems to know when and where to do things. When it's something that causes me to want to crawl into a hole and die, he does it at all the wrong times.

Eventually, we will perfect that look, the one that says "Stop what you are doing RIGHT NOW because it's embarrassing or I will start singing and dancing and make you want to die!".

Right now, I just have a whole bunch of explaining to do. And laughing. Because in a house like mine, if you don't laugh, your head will explode.

P.S. Daddy actually made dinner last night, which is part of the reason I was able to laugh about this. I had nothing else to worry about at that moment. So kudos Daddy for being on top of things yesterday.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Potatoes and Spray Paint

This week has been a week of life lessons for me. And they are ones that I probably should have already learned, but my head is kind of thick sometimes. Ready for me to impart some words of wisdom? Write these down, they are golden.

1) Never put potatoes anywhere you might forget them. Like, say, the trunk of your car. I assure you, in about 4 days you will sorely regret having forgotten where you left them.

2) Never spray paint when it's windy. The only thing that will accomplish is colored snot. And there is no human alive who needs blue snot. No one.

3) Always measure. Not only does this work in construction projects, but regular every day life. Your day will go much smoother if you measure. Always.

I got these 3 wonderful life lessons because, frankly, I'm a moron.

1) I bought 2 bags of potatoes. We use them a lot and they were on sale. Side note- I should marry a potato farmer, if anyone knows any. I had my arms full of groceries and didn't have the room to carry them in. I carried the kids in, and the groceries, and put away the frozen stuff. And lo and behold, my brain could not retain the information it needed to remember to go get those potatoes. Rotten potatoes is a smell that once you smell it, you will never forget it. And unfortunately, I may never get the chance to, as my car trunk still smells slightly of them.

2) Today, I spray painted my wicker furniture. It was a beautiful day out, and the breeze will help everything dry quicker. What it will also do is forcefully shove spray paint into your nasal passages. It will then cause the inside of your nose to feel as if someone has coated it with Elmer's school glue. And when you blow your nose, it will come out a lovely shade of whatever color you picked to paint your items. Mine today happened to be blue. I had copious amounts of blue snot. Absolutely not attractive AT ALL.

3) We bought a new couch. We thought it would fit. We thought. We didn't measure. Apparently in my house, guessing works. Or doesn't work as this is the case. It has taken us 3 days to try to figure out what to do with all the extra stuff in the house, since our couch takes up a million times more space than our last one did. We made it work, with the realization that some furniture must be relocated to someone else's house. I figure by July, our first floor should look like we want it to. The couch is amazingly comfortable, and totally worth the bitch of an effort it took to get it in. It hangs out into our doorway, and looks a little silly, but I will keep it forever. Or until one of the kids break it.


I often blame these fits of complete idiotic behavior on the kids. "I'm tired" or "They were talking and I got distracted" but in reality, it's seriously just me. I can't manage to get my shit together to save my life. All these things happened within the past 72 hours. I honestly hope that the next 72 hours are not nearly as crappy. If they are, I'm sure you'll hear about it.

And now, I'm going to go blow my nose again. I think I may still have blue snot.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Redecorating is a nightmare

Anyone else been here? Redecorating a house is pure hell. All I did was buy a new couch. That's all. I didn't buy a whole living room SET. I didn't redo the whole house. JUST A COUCH!

My entire house is now in shambles. Things I still want but don't work with my "new" living room are scattered around my first floor while I try to decide what to do with them. My trash bill is going to be enormous because I'm throwing out so much stuff.

What began as a simple "Honey, we need a new couch because ours is broken" conversation has turned into my nightmare. I think I will love the end product. I'm already super excited about what I want to see happen. I'm already in search of missing items, or in the process of building the missing items I need.

For someone whose house was stuffed to the max with shit I didn't need, is now slowly turning into something I'm kind of proud of. I will never be on the cover of Home and Garden Magazine. They tend to frown upon jelly covered coffee tables and random piles of toys. BUT, I will no longer look like a welfare daycare. Moving in the right direction.

Here's the catch, for a non-finisher, this redecorating thing is hard. I get distracted, or move on to new projects before I finish one. I'm a horrible redecorator. It's just not in me. I have the ability to do it, but not the follow through. If what I thought in my head just showed up in my living room one day, I'd be in heaven.

Someday I'll actually finish what I start. Someday I will be happy with what my house looks like. But it appears it won't be anytime soon. So for now, I'm going to go finish pushing furniture around and cursing.

I'm hoping to at least finish the living room today. Then I'll think about tackling the rest of the house. I am probably driving my family crazy. No one else who lives with me likes change. I crave it. We are in for a LONG summer.

Hopefully they keep their opinions to themselves, because even though the couch I bought is too big for the living room, I am in love with it. The old one is already out in the trash. Change is coming, people! Get used to it. :)

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Sweet Little Things

This morning I took Child 1 to school. I was in a slightly bitchy mood because the morning felt rushed and nothing went as planned. Child 2 peed through his diaper and everything was soaking wet. Child 1 didn't want to wear the shoes I got out, so he had to go in search of others. Just a frustrating morning in my opinion.

There was an argument between Child 1 and Child 2, over toys this morning. It was incredibly two sided for having a child that doesn't speak yet. Child 1 said what he had to say and Child 2 screamed in return. It was lovely and added to the ambiance of the morning.

There was more yelling in the car, this time only from Child 2. But Child 1 wanted to listen to the radio and couldn't hear it. Which resulted in Child 1 yelling at Child 2. Now it was time to add in the mommy headache.

THEN we got to school. And I was presented with a necklace Child 1 made me, and a blueberry muffin that Child 1 helped make too. Accompanied by an incredibly sweet hug and an "I love you, Mommy." And my headache completely went away.

Sometimes I find myself getting overwhelmed by the every day life. The little things I need to get done, or I want other people to do, and the list keeps growing and it never stops. There are so many things that I feel like I have to get done NOW. And it stresses me out.

But then my kids do something incredibly wonderful and unexpected. And Child 1 does it with such emotion and passion that it is impossible to still stay in the mindset of having a bad day. He was so happy to do something nice for someone else that it instantly lightened my day.

I remember what it was like before having children, and I can honestly say that my life is better off with them. Even with all the negative things that come across in my posts, I love my little assholes with all my heart. After all, they are just like their mother....

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

2,000 page view GIVEAWAY!

We (and by that I mean me and the lovely website that lets me post my shit) are getting close to 2,000 reads. This is a big deal for me seeing as how my blog started only 2 months ago. I'm proud of how many times people have followed my rantings. And my ridiculous stream of consciousness I have.

Because I love everyone who read this, even if we have never met, I am hosting a 2,000 page view giveaway.

I will be creating a small basket of goodies for someone to win. What's in it shall remain a mystery until I reveal the winner. But it will be worth what you have to do. So without further ado, the rules.

RULE 1: Read the blog. If you're seeing this, you probably read it anyway. But if you don't and you only clicked on this because of a giveaway, read it anyway. Don't be one of those people.

RULE 2: You must comment on this post why you love reading my blog. You can leave a comment in the comments section at the bottom of this entry. If you're reading this on your smartphone, go down to the bottom of the page and click "view desktop version" (or some variation of wording.)

RULE 3: Keep reading this blog. There will be future giveaways. Don't want to miss free shit. That's the best shit to get.


I love watching my views numbers climb. I check it every day, sometimes more if I post something really off the wall. I love seeing where my readers are (kudos to my family in Germany for reading it! And whoever reads it from Canada....). I love hearing what you guys have to say. A lot of times I hear "My God that happens in my house!" and that, my friends, is why I write. Sometimes I feel like I am alone in the craziness of being the only female in a house of boys. I am surrounded by dirty bathrooms and tons of underwear and farts. Lots of farts.

This is my way of connecting with the people who matter. The moms who stay at home and take care of the family, then rush off to work at night to help pay the bills. The moms who stay at home all day, and then keep staying at home all night (and only getting quiet when the hyenas go to bed). The moms who work all day and become a stay at home mom in the evening. Whatever version of working or non-working mom you are, you never get a break. I am right there with you.

My giveaway will not include farts (although I acquired a whoppee cushion for the kids I'm thinking of giving away) or dirty underwear. You guys have enough of that I'm sure.

Now, get to commenting so I can pick a random winner when I hit 2,000 views! Make it a funny story. The best story of how you can relate to my post, or why you love reading it will get an extra entry into the random drawing!

My posting delay


Hello, my friends. I have been away. Well not really, I've been here. But I've been busy. I set out on a mission this weekend and I did it. I actually did it.

I wanted to revoke my previous name I gave myself. I am (or was) a non-finisher. Let me be clear, I still am. I procrastinate a lot and don't always finish. Usually I don't finish. Ok, almost always I don't finish what I start.

I believe I have adult ADHD, or I always did. I simply can't finish just about anything. BUT!!!! I finished something this weekend. I finished an entire blanket. A whole one. And it's big enough to cover my entire son. And I'm talking Child 1, the big kid.

I was really proud of myself that I did it. I can make small stuff no problem, so it seems like Child 2 reaps the benefits. Keep in mind, Child 1 used to reap the benefits, but then he grew. And kept growing. And making him stuff is like a chore.

But, I felt he really could use something very nice. We are running the nightmare course right now. In my head, a blanket that Mommy made might help make him feel safe. I don't think it will work, but anything was worth a try.

Here my friends, is why I've been absent. But I am now back, and will post my regular bitchiness again. I've been storing up some good stuff so keep an eye out the next couple days.

Friday, April 4, 2014

Age is more than just a number

Something happened yesterday. And it was something I didn't even realize until later in the day when a coworker pointed it out.

I turned 31 yesterday. I wasn't the least bit concerned. I hit 30 and nothing bad happened. In fact, 30 was my benchmark. I wanted two kids by the time I was 30. I confidently flew through my birthday extremely pregnant and knew I was happy with where I was.

This year, ended slightly different. I am now fully "in my 30's". I don't have to tell anyone my real age for a few more years. I can just say "I'm in my 30's". Unless it's the cops. They want a real number. Or the DMV. They won't put 30's as an age on your driver's license. Again. Because of the cops.

I'm also well enough established in life that I don't give a flying hoot what people think of me.

You can see my gray hair? That's because I'm in my 30's and it's ok to have gray hair. At 25, I needed to dye that shit once a month. Now, I'll live with it for a few more weeks. Doesn't bother me any. Besides, I earned them fair and square. Life around these parts isn't always easy. I came by those gray hairs the old fashioned way- I had kids who drive me nuts.

I'm out of shape? I had two children, one by C-section. I work nights so I can stay home with them during the day. And I like cupcakes. I'm in my 30's. A set of love handles never killed anyone. But please be aware, I hate them and I am going to the gym. But "in your 30's" is when the weight doesn't seem to melt off anymore like it used to. And I'm ok with it. Or at least it isn't giving me panic attacks yet.

I don't drive a cool car? Yeah well, it's not important to me. What I need is a car with 4 doors and enough room for me to move my seat far enough away from little feet that I don't feel like I'm riding a bad roller coaster when I'm driving. I need a car that has enough room for all the toys I have to take everywhere. I don't care if it's cool. Hell, I don't even care if it's all the same color. It's all about convenience at this point. (For the record, what we really need is a limo. With sound proofing in the back. For the kids to play. Dad and I can ride up front.)

I don't wear cool clothes? Listen, be thankful they aren't covered in shit. That's my requirement now. Most everything gets bought at Wal-mart because it's just going to end up with stuff plastered on it anyway. Mostly on my back, where I can't see it. That's the prime place for sticky disgusting hands to end up when they give you sweet baby hugs.

All in all, yesterday made me realize that I have entered the portion of my life where I can just be me. At 21, everyone cares what you wear and drive and how cool you are. At 25, everyone cares what you look like. At 31 with 2 kids, people are just impressed when you have on anything but sweatpants and your hair isn't hiding treats for later.

This is exactly the spot where I want to be. I've never been one for caring what anyone thought of me anyway, but at least now no one expects me to. I'm actually looking forward to turning 40. That's the next big one. That's when I never have to dye my hair again, I can go to the store in anything I want, AND my kids will be old enough to not have to have me walk them to school anymore, which means I can wear sweatpants all day.

I'm totally going to start doing that soon anyway, but at least at 40, no one will care.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

My house....

You know, I try really damn hard to be everything I need to be on a daily basis. I am the sole care provider for a 9 month old child for roughly 60 hours a week (Daddy is in a salaried position and his job is not one that he gets the privilege of having set hours.) I am the sole person responsible for the management of a 5 year olds care as well. Coordinating appointments, meetings, school, out of school activities, you name it.

A lot of my life is taken up by kids. I knew this going into the whole stay at home mom thing. I just didn't realize how taxing it could be. One thinks about staying home with your kids as a day of cuddles and movies and sunshine. In reality, I clean up puke a lot more than I should have to, at least once a day I find shit on my clothing and immediately have to change, and yesterday, I took my son to school with someones breakfast in my hair. This is not glamorous. Nor is it fun.

Add onto that pile of fun the fact that at some point I'm supposed to clean and cook and shop! There are 2 slight problems with this equation.
1. I only have two hands.
2. There are only 24 hours in a day.

Something somewhere has to give. I have already given up most of my extras. I am never seen with anything but jeans and sweatshirts on. Most of the time I make time to shower, but I'm still not sure I remember to wash everything. The essentials get done. The clothes get washed, but not always folded right away. The dishes get washed, but usually end up staying in the drying rack far longer than most people want to admit to. My house is clean, but cluttered.

But you want to know what I do have done? I have a better relationship with Child 2 at this age than I did with Child 1. Sure, Child 1 loved me and I loved him. But I felt like we didn't get to spend enough time together. With Child 2, he clearly prefers Mommy, and we spend way more time together. I missed a lot with Child 1 due to working so much. I'm not missing anything with Child 2. Although there are days I miss working and want to go back.

My house will never make it on the cover of any magazines. It's clean sure, but that's about all I can say for it. I value spending time with my children much more than I value organizing my closets and making room for more stuff. So when you come here, please don't point out my flaws. I'm well aware of them.

Just be thankful I didn't answer the door with shit on my shirt......

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

The hardest post I've written yet

I don't normally put family business on the internet. A lot of my close friends and family will not be surprised by what is in this post. Some people will be shocked. Some people won't understand. What I'm asking is when you read this, please GOD don't read it with sympathy. Or an "Oh I'm so sorry" attitude. That's not the point, and I don't need it.

Today is World Autism Awareness Day. Big deal right? To me, it has become a big deal. Child 1 was diagnosed last year with PDD-NOS. Which falls on the autism spectrum. Does it make our life harder? Sure does. Usually in not so wonderful ways that other people simply don't understand.

Do you have to call your evening meal lunch? I do, or else my child won't eat. Do you have to say everything just the way you mean it? I do, as my child is incredibly literal and takes things JUST the way you say them. There is no room for interpretation.

Does it make my child any less important than any of your children? Nope. Just makes him different. Just means we have a bigger team of people who are helping my child be the best person he can be. Does it mean he has a "disability"? Not as far as I can see. My kid is intelligent. He says things you would expect to hear from an adult. He remembers things forever. Most often the ones you simply want him to forget.

What my child is, is a child. He's my child. He's my world. He's the life of the party. He loves attention. He loves to talk. He loves to make up stories. He's the best pretender I've ever seen. That kid can make up stuff like nobodies business. Occasionally it has gotten us in trouble and he fills in the blanks sometimes with what he makes up. Which is also hysterical when we get down to the bottom of what really happened.

Child 1 has wormed his way into the hearts of everyone I've ever seen him interact with. My child has been kicked out of 3 daycares in the past (Clue 1 that something wasn't quite the same as other kids). I have never seen a daycare director cry and hug a kid when they had to ask that he not return. It happened with mine. They were so sad to lose him because at his best he is the most wonderful, caring, empathetic, smart, sarcastic, funny, off the wall kid ever.

At his worst, he's that kid you see in the grocery store who won't get off the floor. He's the kid who HAS to take a toy with him EVERYWHERE and will undoubtedly use it to slam into you in the check out line at some point. I'm the parent who has to say sorry to a lot of people on some days. But I'm also the parent who gets to smile proudly when my son steals the Christmas Play and gets compliments from everyone in the audience.

I love my son regardless. I would give anything in the world for my child. Some days I wake up mad that he has this "issue" because his life IS harder than other kids. Things are hard for him. Regular things you take for granted are sometimes things he has to work at. And the reason I sometimes get mad is because I want what every parent in the world wants. I want my kid to be happy. I want him to have a better life than I did. I want him to be whatever he wants to be.

And some day he will. I have to remind myself that what is hard today, he will learn. What I see as a problem, he sees as life. It's not a problem. We just got a different set of cards than other people. But we are playing the same game. We just have to find a way to make our cards work for the game.

No, I don't want sympathy or sad eyes. And please, refrain from telling me you understand when you have no idea what I'm talking about. Your kid throwing a tantrum sometimes is not the same. If you want to relate to me, tell me about the great things our kids do that are the same. Don't point out that your kid sometimes does bad things too. Every kid does bad stuff, that's what God made naps for. So you have an hour away from them so you don't kill them. They are all bad.

Tell me your kid loves to dance, because mine recently learned to shake his butt and does it everywhere. Tell me your kid loves to read, and I'll tell you about the national geographic books we read as bedtime stories. Tell me your kid is an amazing artist, and I'll tell you Child 1 hates to draw but can do puzzles like Rainman. Tell me your kid recently learned the word "ass" so I don't feel so bad that my kid picks up my bad sayings sometimes.

Even if you don't have autism in your family, you probably know someone affected by it. April is Autism Awareness Month. Ask me questions if you want. Take the time to learn something about it. It affects a lot of children. Some way worse than others. But don't qualify us either. Hearing "I bet you are glad your kid is high functioning" makes it seem like the parents with lower functioning kids are worse off than we are. They aren't. They can share some of the same things we can. I know a person with a lower functioning child whose son can do math in his head that I would have to do on paper.

Every single autistic person has good qualities. Don't overlook them and only see the meltdowns and tantrums and poor social skills. I want you to look at Child 1 and see a kid with a particular zest for life. I want you to look at Child 1 and see a kid who is so fascinated with learning new things that he wants to learn everything. I want you to look at Child 1 and just see happy.

In a way, I'm glad to be a parent of an autistic kid. It made me a better parent. It made me a better learner. It made me more empathetic. It made me more caring. It made me more passionate. It made me take the time to learn about other things that other kids are dealing with. It made me more likely to take the time to stop and answer why. And it made my family part of this huge group of people with the most amazing kids ever.

 Not that your typical kid isn't amazing, but autistic kids are pretty damn cool.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Sometimes you can't answer why with a real answer

Today I learned you can give a child too much information. Honestly, I've learned this quite a few times, but in the moments of "why?" I often forget the lesson I just learned last week. When you give a literal child too much information, you can create a crisis mode. I did that today. Bad Mommy.

I have never thought twice about honestly answering my sons questions, until they turn around to bite me in the ass. Today, I had a giant chunk taken out of my ass. A. GIANT. CHUNK. And it was ugly. And it made a scene.

Today, I was that parent everyone gives the hairy eyeball to. I was the mother everyone apologizes to when they walk out the door. But the nurses were amused. And I guess that made up for it. Everyone with a medical degree got a chuckle.

A few months ago, Child 1 was biting himself or something equally annoying, and I told him if he bit too hard, he would bleed. Child 1, being the child he is, had to know the in's and out's of what I was talking about. I told him if he bled too much, he would die. If you lose all your blood, you will die.

Horribly graphic I know, but sometimes with Child 1 you have to exaggerate to get your point across. I exaggerated for effect. It worked too, as he has not bit himself or anyone else since I told him about the blood thing. Point in Mommy's column, right? WRONG!

Today, Child 1 had to have blood work done. See where this is going? They were taking his blood!!!!! He almost gave himself a stroke sitting in the lab at the doctors office. People could probably hear him screaming 2 towns over. Mommy then had to explain Child 1's over-the-top reaction to the blood work. Not only do needles scare him, but they hurt, and he thinks he will die.

This began a diatribe which consisted of him telling the nurses that he will have to go to the hospital if they take his blood and he will die. Complete with hyperventilation, crocodile tears and intense screaming. Ever seen a nurse try to be empathetic to a crying child while at the same time completely losing her shit about something you told your child? I have. Before we even left the lab, the story of what I had done was making it's rounds.

The nurse was kind enough to grab a Styrofoam cup from the lounge and give Child 1 a large drink to help calm him down. And bubbles. And a sticker. And a hug. Mommy simply got a smile followed by a "Made my day. Thanks."

I am now that Mommy. The Mommy who creates crisis' with explanations. Here I thought he would have forgotten, but that simply did not happen. I made an ass out of all of us today.