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?????

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.

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....

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.

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....

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.