Parenting With Duct Tape

I Am What I Am

2011-04-26T17:53:00.000-07:00

I was just at Home Depot (aka: hell). After traversing the whole stupid store, with baby and 3 year old in tow, looking for stucco patch some sales guy wants to sign me up for a "free in-home kitchen remodel estimate." Thinking I would get rid of him, I said, "Ok, but you'll have to follow me up to checkout to get my information." Sadly, he followed me.

He handed me the phone to answer a bunch of questions as I pulled up to the self checkout. I proceeded to answer all the questions and give my information while I checked out my items, kept the 3 year old off the scanner, rocked the baby's stroller, bagged my items and ran my card to pay for everything.

I handed him the phone. He looked at me with an open mouth stare and said, "I have never seen someone multitask like that. That was amazing." To which I said, "What? I'm a mom." and walked away.

The Importance of a Family Vacation is….

2010-05-10T16:49:00.000-07:00

The reason I'm writing about this is to enter a contest that will give me a chance to vacation by myself in NYC while attending BlogHer. How awesome would that be? Awesome. But what's more awesome than that? The family vacation!

I am a HUGE cheerleader for two things: family dinners and family vacations. They bring a family together. Having dinner together makes you touch base once a day. Family dinner can make a family feel more like a team in many ways. A family vacation is that times 100. When you take your family out of their everyday setting and everyday distractions, you make the opportunity for everyone to look at each other and the roles we all play in a fresh and new way. Family vacations can be refreshing and relaxing, invigorating and renewing, or a down right disaster. Strangely, the disasters produce the most likely to be told and re-told again stories. Whatever you have planned or whatever ends up happening the end result will be shared experiences. These memories are the glue that bonds a family together. The stories told until you are old and gray. They bring the laughter that follows the story of being pushed into a lake or finding a bear in your camp and running like a baby. (For the record, that was NOT me.)

Family vacations, whether at a resort or at a state campground, are amazing, team building, memory making experiences that are always worth the effort and inevitable exhaustion for which you will need another week to recover from.

_____________________________________________

I am writing this post to participate in the Golden Inn Resort “What is the importance of a Vacation” sweepstakes for a chance to randomly win a full conference ticket to Blogher 2010. You can learn more about the Jersey Shore Resort and contest at their blog http://www.GoldenInnResort.com/vacationtips.

Potty Training Will Make You A Cripple

2010-02-09T13:56:00.000-08:00

Go ahead. Read the books. Blah, blah, blah. They'll talk about timing. They'll tell you about how much your therapy bill will be if you push it on them. They'll write about incentives and not disciplining. Whatever. Like I wrote above, blah, blah, blah. Do you think they'd dedicate one single page, forget that, paragraph to perhaps the most important part of potty training?

How Not To Become A Cripple:

strategies for hefting 25-35 lbs of squirming toddler on & off the crapper

Yeah, would someone who writes these books please include a little snippet of proper back care? I mean who gives a crap (yeah, haha...) if your kid is out of diapers if YOU are now in traction?! Who planned this anyway? What, most toilets are around shin-height? Most toddlers are mid-thigh height? You have to bend over just enough that you don't think to use your knees, THEN you have to swing this dead weight of a squirming kid and plop it onto the seat with precision or your extracting the thing from the bowels of the damn flusher. Do I have to say, ewww?

And don't start with the "my kid climbs a stool" or "my kid uses the (disgusting I might add) training potty" because those things do not help you when you are having to find bathrooms all over hell and back in between carpool runs and grocery store trips. EVERYONE has to lift their kid onto the toilet at some point and will have to repeatedly.

So yes. My 2 year old is now potty trained. We had no issues. She didn't cry. She didn't make gross messes all over the place. Nothing terribly disgusting occurred. But I haven't been able to run since November. In runner's years that's like a day away from losing your sanity.

Before It's Too Late...

2009-11-18T21:54:00.000-08:00

I don't know. I'm still new in these blogging parts. You all probably get way more emails asking you to sell stuff than I do. I get a few here and there. There's this one for genetic testing that I keep getting. AND they reference the previous email like they are actually keeping track of their attempts to get a hold of me. Whatever. I'm like totally smarter than that. But they tried to get me with this:

Our Genetic Test service has been receiving overwhelming
response from parents who care about their children's
future.

What they should know is I don't care as much about my children's future as I do about my own. As in, I'm just hoping I make it through raising them without going to jail. Know what I mean?

From: AmyAnne
Date: November 18, 2009 9:33:33 PM PST
To: Jane
Subject: Re: Did you receive my previous email?

Oh Hi Jane!

Wow. That sounds cool. I was wondering if we could use this Gene Profile thing on other people. You know, like boyfriends and potential spouses. Well like could you check whether or not someone has the "I leave my socks on the floor" gene or the "when I make a bowl of cereal every single cupboard door will be left open and all the boxes of cereal will be left on the counter for you to put away" gene? Oh man that would rock!

Ok how about this. I actually have an infant as well as a 10 & 6 year old. Now, I'm not so sure this would work with the other two, but how about we test the baby for the "my head spins and I spew out verses from the bible backwards when you ask me to do the dishes" gene. If she has it I totally know a nice couple I met driving through Kansas last year that said they were adopting. Apparently I'm Fertile Myrtle so I could make another one in short order.

Wow, I'm so glad you picked me to test on! My family is going to love this!!

Can't wait to take action with you soon!!

Hugs and kisses,
AmyAnne

On Nov 18, 2009, at 9:09 PM, Jane wrote:

AmyAnne,

Did you receive an email that I sent to you 2 days ago?
In case you miss it, here is the recap >>

-----------Recap---------------

I came across your site the other day & I am very impressed
by it. So I decided to contact you.
...
This is the world's fastest growing industry which is highly
praised by our President, Barack Obama.
...
Our Genetic Test service has been receiving overwhelming
response from parents who care about their children's
future.
...
You can join this historic launch now to enjoy the following
benefits:
...
Take action now before it is too late to join the launch.

Regards,
Jane Doe

Baby Torture - Washing The Blanky

2009-11-04T08:27:00.000-08:00

P.S. I thought I'd post the happy ending to all this emotional trauma.

Reunited and it feels so gooooood.....

This Is For All My Bitches!

2009-10-31T09:13:00.001-07:00

Introducing my new hero...

This Is EXACTLY Why I'm All About Spanking

2009-10-28T13:58:00.000-07:00

I'm done. Look at this face and tell me I'm not having any more kids.

Wait, that one's kind of gross. Sorry to all the vegetarians out there. And the cows.

Also, that might not be a picture of the 2 year old. How am I supposed to tell all 3 girls apart?! Don't judge me.

Ok, look at this face and tell me I'll never hold a baby that rode my vagina-slide again:

Or this one and tell me I'll never get to see her first sugar rush.
Ever.
Again.

I can't take it. I just can't take it.

Why?! Why didn't she stop growing when I told her to? Why aren't the time out's and "talking tos" not working?!

I'm done with all this "positive discipline" crap.

IT'S NOT WORKING.

It didn't work with the other ones and it's clearly not working with this one. Whatever.

~Happy Birthday 2 year old!~

A Letter: Your Vagina, The Highway of Life

2009-10-21T13:15:00.000-07:00

So, I've been a slacker blogger lately. Whatever. Want some excuses? I have 3. 4 if you count the husband. I did have time for some correspondence between my oldest sister and I after she harassed me with texts because she has pregnancy amnesia but wants to help her friend who finds herself recently up a pole.

I'm gonna share because I want credit for doing something other than wiping asses and slamming baby feet in car doors. So here's one for the new parents to be out there...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Subject: (unsolicited) advice from someone you don't really know - get used to it
From: Amy Talley-Klotz
Date: October 13, 2009 3:56:45 PM PDT
To: Ann-Marie

Ann-Marie - Here. I wrote this for Amy. Might post it on the blog, but if you think her humor/current state of mind can handle my deranged humor and magnificent insight pass it on. You are being a great friend to her and that's like totally awesome.
xoxoxo,
Amy

Hi Amy,

I am a stranger, I think. I don't remember meeting you, but you know my sister very well and I totally know her so we are almost like acquaintances of some kind. Anyway, we both have vaginae and uteri, I used mine 3 times to grow big ~~whining~~ ~~pooping~~ talking things and you are using yours for the first time.

Ann-Marie is worried about you. She's texting me for help on morning sickness and the likes and I'm totally glad to answer her/your questions but I felt compelled to write you a note because that's how I roll. Most of the time. Sometimes I don't answer the phone or the door or anything but sometimes I'm strangely free with my communication. Like right now.

Anyhow, what qualifies me? Well, I'm a recovering Type A with 3 kids. I had 1 c-section and 2 VBACs. That last term sounds scary, but really it just means I ~~squirted~~ birthed the second 2 out the ~~hard~~ ~~right~~ natural way and had the first one ~~ripped out of my abdomen~~ c-section. If you ask I'll give you my take on the difference between the 2 ~~tactics~~ options.

You may just be freaking out and coming to terms with your ~~situation~~ condition. I did the typical Type A thing of taking 42 pregnancy tests and then proceeded to chart and figure out what, why, HOW this could have happened. And I'd been married 6 years by then, you think I'd have known. After that I went into the 'planning' phase which included a 7 page birth plan. Yeah. I told you about me, didn't I? (Later I was told by my OTHER sister, the nurse, that the hospital staff laughs mercilessly at such nonsense and it pretty much always ends up the opposite of intended plan, as mine did.) But 10 years and 3 children later, I'm here to say, the birth which even if it ~~lasts forever~~ goes on for the total allotted 24 hrs WILL END. Not only will it end but in the grand scheme of things - that being the fact that you will be shackled FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE to this ~~blood sucking alien~~ new beautiful person - the actual birth will in fact be a mere wrinkle in ~~the sphincter of~~ time.

Did you hear me say that? That's a hard concept to contemplate as you are about to offer up your who-ha to the highway of life for the very first time. But believe me when I say...The actual birth is a mere millisecond in the whole scheme of things.

Once you get your brain wrapped around that remember this: Your body will do everything in its power to protect that baby from the ~~stupidity of the parent~~ anything that could go wrong with your body. So, lunch meats, pesticides, raves, heavy drug use...yes, be prudent, but you are more likely to come out damaged than that bundle of cells in there. I promise. That's how we are designed. So just make yourself as comfortable as you can while inflicting ~~the most~~ the least damage you can on ~~the asshole~~ loved one who is there to support you.

Also, when the due date looms, here's a little trick: circle a date a full 2 weeks out from whatever the Dr. tells you. Just do it. Convince yourself that is the date. Roll your eyes and ignore the Dr. when she says stuff like, "You're thinning out!" or "Your dilated to a 3!" It's all just a trick to give you ~~a reason~~ ~~to live~~ ~~false hope~~ something to talk about during the last couple of weeks. But if you convince yourself there is even longer to wait then, when you suddenly go into labor a week and half early you are STOKED that your new baby had the decency to give you a break right from the get go.

Oh and one more thing. The hospital and the Dr. absolutely do not, I repeat DO NOT want to kill you or harm you or the baby in any way. In fact they would really prefer if you remained a nameless number where nothing significant (that you can sue them for) happened in any way. Except the significance of the miracle of birth and all that, of course.

So what I'm saying is that in retrospect, if I had known everything I know now I would have spent more time hanging out with the worst babies in the whole world. I would have hunted down the colicy, puking, poo spewing, screaming infants and made myself hang out with them ~~and their wrecked parents~~ so that I could have spent more time enjoying my own little bundles for the goodness they offered instead of worrying what might be around the corner. Also, I wouldn't have wasted more than 10 minutes on researching the whole "birthing" process. I mean, it's a process. We have it down, pretty much, after like a gazillion years of evolution and research and questionable experiments back in the dark ages.

All that said, buckle up, hold on and try your best to enjoy this ride. It's like a roller coaster from the Twilight Zone, never ending, strangely electrifying, terrifying and exciting all in one.

Write or call me anytime. Really. Or not, if you're scare of me now. I'll try hard not to stalk you because just writing this letter makes me want to do it all again. Oh the baby head smell...the warm snuggles...the first smile. Quick, someone smack me!

Good luck and get ready to kick some ass!!
Amy :-)

P.S. I have 3 models you can try out if you like. All girls ages 2, 6, 10. I could FedEx any one or all 3 of them free of charge any time you'd like.

P.P.S. It's kind of weird to write a letter to Amy and sign it Amy. It's like writing a letter to myself. Which I mostly never do. Except when I need to remember something really important like when to pick up my kids from school, but I stopped doing that because CPS usually just drops them off for me. We have a system.

Phone Sex Anyone? Not Here Apparently.

2009-10-03T17:23:00.000-07:00

We don't answer our phone. It rings, we hear it, we ignore it. We don't even bother screening our calls. We just let it ring and in, like, a week or so we are completely floored there are 42 messages and 96 missed calls. What?! How did this happen?

I'll tell you how it happened. We ignored the ringing apparatuses that are strewn all over our home. I mean, we have four. FOUR handsets for a house with two living spaces and four bedrooms. Guess where we bought the set? Guess where you could get a bargin price on a new cordless phone with 3 more handsets than you actually need? Costco. But even with the convenience of Costco quantity, do you think we could find it within ourselves to actually pick up the damn thing?

This all started with the whole not answering the phone at dinner thing and now it has just about rolled into don't answer the phone anytime. The hubs and I both have cell phones. We text a lot. We Twitter. Each other. Hehehe. I love saying that.

So has the house phone gone the way of the egg slicer? Or the yogurt maker I've had in my cupboard for 6 years? Or will we be very sorely mistaken when the 10 year old suddenly becomes a gum-chewing, phone-talking, hair-twirling teenager? Good lawd. That's just around the corner isn't it? Well anyway, maybe the house phone is a vestigial appliance and we just need to let go.

Yeah, either that or we are a bunch of phone phobic a-holes that need a lesson in manners.

BTW I'd like to get credit for that word up there, vestigial, for two reasons. 1) I have been pronouncing it "vestig-U-al" for years, like a true dumb ass. 2) It's the only thing I remember from high school science because my teacher told me (in front of the whole class nonetheless) that my teeth were likely so big because they were vestigial as we don't need horse chompers anymore. You know, now that the rest of you have evolved.

Carpool Mafia

2009-09-23T20:29:00.000-07:00

It sounds nice in theory. Carpool. What? I only have to drive 1 of my 5 bazillion trips to practice in exchange for picking up a couple other kids on the same team? Ha! Piece of cake.

They suck you in. They tell you about how they were sucking down martinis while you were watching toddlers swing bats at balls like they are still drunk from last night's party. Oh it sounds sweet. It sounds heavenly even, but here is what they don't tell you.

Carpool can be hell. It can be the 15 minutes of hell that keeps you popping Xanax for 3 days before and 3 days after. It can be the kind of hell that will get your toilets clean because yes, you'd rather do THAT then drive carpool. One. More. Time.

And try to get out. It's like leaving the mafia. The consequences run deep. Real deep. Who do you offend? The parent? The kid? Both? I'll give you some ideas for getting out of carpool conflict free:

Break your leg.

"Looks like I'll be pulling CC out of carpool so she can fetch my beer for the next six weeks. It's been fun!"

Break your kid's leg.

"Since little Joey can't play football anymore we're gonna' send him to the range instead of the field. You know, to work on more important skills. See you around!"

Kill your car.

"The Mercedes blew a head gasket. All I have is the Lamborghini."

Show up to the front door drunker than shit, fumes coming off you like you were bathing in straight-up vodka when you were supposed to be doing your run.

Baby's First Haircut

2009-09-16T20:58:00.000-07:00

Courtesy of her sister, who just squeaked by her 6th birthday the day before she did this.

She may have had a chance of making it to her 7th birthday if she had saved the clump of hair for her sister's baby book, but she decided to get rid of the evidence.

I Refuse To Hold Myself & My Family Hostage

2009-09-07T12:44:00.000-07:00

[This is a response to an email that was sent out to everyone in my community over the last few days. That email is below. Take a minute to read for a little more context.]

I received an email from a friend [a few days before the email below] that said: FYI there has been attempted daytime break-ins in the Dos Vientos area. There has been no violence, but property like electronics have been taken and one girl was surprised to find 2 men in her house when she got home from school. She screamed and they fled.

I read that particular email and passed it on to my husband and discussed with him making sure to lock the doors when we leave the house. I also made a mental note to be more aware when I'm walking my daughter to school or running so I can note anything suspicious.

This email that I am responding to is on a whole other level. It is emotional and destructive in its insidiousness.

I understand that Heather, the woman who wrote the email below, was feeling victimized. A teenager walked right into her house with the intent to steal. I have had various property crimes happen to my residence and it does shake your perceived security up quite a bit. I totally get that. In fact, I was key in getting my last neighborhood notified and aware when we had a string of vehicle thefts. I helped spin back up Neighborhood Watch. I sent out emails and made phone calls that encouraged everyone to keep their eyes and ears open and to call the non-emergency line even if they just suspect there is something wrong. Most importantly I wanted my neighborhood to ban together be aware and not be afraid.

In that neighborhood we had a lot of older homeowners. They taught me what it means to know your street. They looked out windows, they sat on the front porch, they talked with neighbors, rolled in other's trashcans, took care to offer help if someone needed it on the block. One day my 5 year old spent 6 or 7 hours teaching herself how to ride her bike up and down the street. Later that evening we had 3 neighbors come to the door to congratulate her. They were watching and were very impressed with her determination. But the point was - they were watching. As they went about their day they had an eye out on the neighborhood.

For this woman to even imply that the only recourse to these home invasions we have is to keep our children under constant supervision, lock our houses down with us inside and check the Megan's Law site grates against everything I stand for and everything I am trying to teach my children. It angers me that our community is inundated with knee jerk reactions like this that do nothing to help us secure our safety or our children's well being.

I refuse to teach my children that the only safe place is to be locked up inside of your house. I refuse to teach my children to assume every person they meet is a pedophile or a criminal. I will and continue to teach my children that most people are kind; that I have taught them well and they are capable of making good choices and taking care of themselves. That the community they live in is looking out for them as much as they are learning to look out for it.
Add to this the ludicrous statement that many of my neighbors are toting guns, ready and willing to kill any teenager or invader that dares to cross their threshold without consent. What about the kid hopping a fence to get a ball? Am I supposed to tell my kids that the neighbors might shoot you so don't ever step foot on private property? I refuse.

It is my hope that this woman sees the damage she has done by sending these messages out to the community but in the event that she doesn't I offer my own note of community awareness that can be used anytime, in any community no matter if the crime or violence is at your doorstep or down the street. Please feel free to copy it at will.

Dear Community,

From time to time, we all need a reminder to stay alert. To keep your windows and doors open, work in your garage, look with your eyes and listen with your ears. Know your neighbors; know the kids walking down your street. If you don't know them, walk up to them and introduce yourself. Have a chat with the older gentleman that walks by every other day. Stop and say 'Hi' to the kids next door. Know your mail person and your garbage collector; they patrol your streets regularly.

These actions are the first huge steps in keeping our community safe. If we are participating in our communities our children will follow suit. Our children will play football in the street, walk up to their friend's house, ride their bike to the park, knowing that as they are watching out for their community, that same community is helping to keep an eye on them and what is happening around them.

These times are no more dangerous than the past, in fact, in California's violent crimes have dropped significantly since their highs in the late 80's early 90's (http://www.disastercenter.com/crime/). Also, visit Free Range Kids for more information and statistics. We are safe and we can work together to maintain that safety. Know your non-emergency police/sheriff number. Use it, it is just another resource that we have. Use your senses and keep watch, as your neighbors will for you.

Working together, making smart choices and being aware will allow us to enjoy our neighbors and our community and all that there is to offer. I look forward to working alongside you.

Thank you,
Amy @
http://www.parentingwithducttape.com

-----------------------------------------------------

Email sent 9/3/09

-----------------------------------------------------

I am writing this letter as a mother, a homeowner and a concerned citizen of Newbury Park. This is not a joke and this is not a chain letter. This is a true story,

Yesterday my house was broken into around 12:30pm. My husband was

home. His truck was parked outside in the driveway. Thankfully my mother-in-law had taken my daughter out for the day. My husband was working on the computer and he heard the back French door swing open with a slow creak from our sunroom into our family room. He got up from his chair, took two steps to look into the direction of the French door and saw the teen-ager who had broken into our house. The boy saw John and he took off running. John ran after him, but he got away. John called the police and gave the officer a perfect description of the boy. This was easy to do as he was wearing a large and bright neon green cast on his arm. (Clearly not the sharpest tool in the shed.) The police patrolled the area, as did my husband. Within about an hour, John was notified that they caught a suspect matching the description. John identified him and filed a police report. (Just a note, the officer that arrived on our scene was just up the street at a reported alarm trip.)

In the meantime, since we have two older nephews and contacts in the schools, John put the word out to see if anyone knew this kid. Quickly people sent word back to us. We know who this boy is, where he lives, who he hangs out with, his MySpace page, his Facebook page, etc… Luckily Newbury Park is a small town. Apparently this boy is known at school for ditching class during the day and breaking into homes and then bragging about it to his friends, a group that is known to do the same thing. Also common knowledge is that this boy has a laundry list of unlawful activity which is somehow “cleaned up” by his parents who do not exercise any form of discipline with this child.

Today around the same time, noonish, there were three officers patrolling our neighborhood because they said that they received three more calls of “suspicious behavior” today of people going into and out of homes.

I have two messages that I want to get out right now to our community.

First, as a parent, lock your doors and be watchful in your neighborhood. My husband grew up in Newbury Park in the days when the gangs of kids rode their dirt bikes through the fields, and the moms could just whistle at dusk and the kids would all come home for dinner. Obviously we are not delusional that it’s the same society anymore; we don’t let our kids go outside without adult supervision and we’ve checked the Meghan’s Law website for the location of sex offenders in our area. But we love Newbury Park and we love living in a town that is still small and nice where our children can feel safe and happy and grow up as good citizens. We commonly left our windows open to get the nice breezes from the ocean. We commonly leave our doors open, with the screens to let the air flow through the house when we’re home. This daring and stupid boy broke into a house in the middle of the day with a car in the driveway! Typically that means someone is home! Three of our neighbors, next door on each side and across the street had their garage doors open! I shudder to think about the possibility that my mother-in-law and child might have been home instead of my husband. I shudder even more to think if this boy, who is pretty stupid, is daring enough to do this, hoping to possibly lift something cool like an iPod or whatever to show off to his friends, what about someone more dangerous, someone willing to hurt or take my kids. I can’t even bare to imagine that. Now we’re just a little more aware of the fact that there are brazen delinquents out there and we need to take steps to secure our homes and our property and our families. This is not paranoia, just proactive behavior.

Second, as a citizen of our community… I hope that this message gets sent out to other community parents and homeowners. We all know each other within six degrees of separation especially in this small town. I hope that this message makes its way to the parents of the unintelligent boy who broke into my house, or someone else who knows him or any of the boys he runs around with. Listen up! You are lucky that this kid broke into my house and met up against my husband who is a good man. I cannot say what my husband would have done to someone who breaks into my house and actually gets caught. I can say that my husband would defend our home with honor and strength and courage. I can say that anyone caught by my husband would not be very happy to be in my husband’s hands…. But hear this, Parents-of-that-Boy, I also cannot say what might happen if your young, immature, misguided child breaks into the house of someone who is not as wonderful as my husband. There are people in our neighborhoods who will protect their property and family with guns and violence without stopping to ask who/what/where/when/how. And I would say to those people “hell yeah!” There is no excuse for a child who has not learned about the values of right and wrong from his parents. And there is no excuse for parents who do not see their child veering off onto the wrong path or kick some ass to get their kids back onto the straight and narrow. If you do not take action with your child now, someone else will take action with him later. And that will most certainly bring a more sorrowful result. Be a parent! Take control of your child. This is your community too!

Please forward to other people in our neighborhood.

Thank you.

Heather

The Apology Letter

2009-08-31T15:19:00.000-07:00

Oh, okay. Of course she does. She's a 1 year old and WAY cuter than you. It also helps that her head doesn't randomly spin a full 360 while spewing verses from the bible in a demonic voice. But hey, I'm so glad you know where you stand now, she who has slipped to the bottom of the totem pole.

Geesh.

Let's Rejoice!

2009-08-26T13:59:00.000-07:00

Summer is over in 16 hrs. 16 hrs and the torture will end. I'm excited when it starts and I'm excited when it ends. By the end of 75 days of 24/7 kids I am done. Like the turkey whose just popped its temperature button thingy. Done, done, done. Put. A. Fork. In. Me.

They are just so ON TOP OF ME right now. Literally. How. HOW can they love me sooo much? I don't know, but I'm thinking I've had just about enough love to strangle a person to death.

I'm looking forward to the routine. The structure. To someone else taking the brunt of at least 1 of my kids for most of the week. I do feel that if I had the money I might ship them off to boarding school with a smile on my face. Imagine all the quiet. All the morning drama I'd avoid. Imagine how much I would loooooove them all summer long. Oh and the holidays would be so joyous and happy. The family reunited. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Right?

Anyway, enough of that far fetched day dream.

I just met this year's kindergarten teacher, she seems nice. Actually, she knows some really good friends of mine in the civilian world so I'm thinking it will be o.k. In a couple hours we will find out just how much drama the 5th grader will have. Whose the teacher? Who else is in the class? Whose flashing their cell phone, you know, the one that she will never in a million years get? Who cut their hair? And OMG, OMG, OMG...what else? I don't know. But I'm about to find out. And then I'm about to not freaking care one single bit. Uhm, hello. That's what the Yard Duty people are for, isn't it?

Happy back to school everyone!

Spare Change Anyone?

2009-08-25T13:22:00.000-07:00

So I'm totally taking advantage of my kids playing nicely together knowing full well that if I don't send them in new directions soon there will be blood. I don't care. I'm willing to risk it and take the time for myself. What's 20 minutes for a pint of blood? A good deal I tell you.

Then I hear "Ha! You have been arrested for putting money in your diaper, you shall receive 20 days in jail!"

Then, "Wait, she's getting away! Cut her off!"

**hypersonic squeal**

"No, over there....YES!!"

"Throw her in the dungeon!"

At which point I may have heard my shower door slam shut. And then I hear a sort of wet slapping sound and a baby whaling at the top of her lungs. It's muffled though so they must have a) gagged her or b) also shut the bedroom door.

And of course I think to myself - ewwww, why is she putting money in her diaper? I draw the line at fishing coins out of poop. I'd rather have the kids clean out water fountains if I got that desperate.

Duct Tape Prom, Say What?

2009-08-23T15:13:00.000-07:00

If you're looking for a quick $3,000 scholarship for your high schooler try the Stuck At Prom duct tape challenge.

These outfits are pretty cool. I can't wait to make one for 10 year old's first dance. I'm thinking fuchsia and purple. Oh yeah.

2009 1st place winners

I'm Serious. Mostly.

2009-08-10T21:41:00.000-07:00

I get strange looks from people on a regular basis, so it's not like I'm sensitive or anything. Go ahead, throw me a look. See? Nothing. Doesn't bother me.

I was in the store trying to juggle 3 kids - 10 year old picking on 5 year old, 5 year old teasing baby, baby squealing in what I'm hoping passes as delight. I stop the cart because I CAN'T THINK and I say to 10 & 5 year old. "Really? Haven't I spent 10 years training you guys NOT to act like monkeys?" Blank looks. "O.K. look, if you go play in the freeway until I'm done I'll give you 5 bucks and I promise I'll pick you up on the way home this time."

What the lady in front of me didn't see was the eye rolling and head shaking. She turns and throws me as wilting of a look as she could muster and rushes away, presumably to file a report with CPS.

Commence 10 year old's response of brain damaging eye rolling and "Whatever." 5 year old's response is "Mom, you know that isn't safe. The cars are really big." Wherein I say, "Ok, how about the parking lot? It's not as exciting, but can still be a lot of fun." Looks. More of those looks. But this time coming from my own children.

You know, it's so sad to realize that your kids might be onto you. Apparently, I'm going to have to step up my game.

Consitant Consistancey Constantly

2009-08-05T16:15:00.000-07:00

I often wonder who the hell qualified me for this job? I mean, come on, I had no formal training and the role models I had make Mommy Dearest look good. But I'm here and somehow I keep popping out kids like there's nothing to it. Yee haw!

I have taken a parenting classes class or two in the interest of, you know, learning more about my profession. I thought I'd share the one thing I keep hearing:

Be. Consistent.

I can do that. I can totally do consistent. I'm consistent with my sarcasm. I'm consistent with my creative discipline. I'm nothing if not consistent with my neuroses. Phew. Something I can handle straight out.

So new parents - listen up! Heed this advice. Be consistent. Like if you said you don't want them juggling knives then don't change your mind an hour later or even when they are 10 and start to think they know everything. Oh, oh and like when your baby cries for candy and you are like totally denying her because that's what a good parent, who has to face a totally judging dental hygienist, would do, don't suddenly pop a piece of taffy in her mouth because you can't stand the screeching anymore. Also because then she might get it in her hair and no, peanut butter doesn't get out taffy, that's for bubble gum apparently.

Summer Hits

2009-07-13T12:56:00.000-07:00

When they are little and summer hits, there's not much more to look forward to than warmer weather and a little more free time. When they are older, however, it's different. Very different.

I spent many years working as a summer camp counselor. When I was 24 I worked my last camp and breathed such a sigh of relief I almost knocked over my apartment building. I was so insanely relieved to be done with the crafts. The games. The crying. The screaming. The singing. Oh man. The singing was the worst.

Me. I'll not be recreating a single second of those 8 torturous years I spent entertaining other people's kids. My kids don't even believe I was ever allowed to work with children. When they come home singing songs and I suddenly break in with the words they are shocked. When I help them with a school project and I know a trick or two their jaws hit the floor. This is the beauty of keeping their standards for me low. I know. Genius.

Anyway, what was I talking about? Summer. Now, with a 10 & 5 year old I see the wisdom in sending your children off to summer camp. I was always sent off to unsuspecting relatives when I was little. Never knew if I'd be there a week or 2 months, but, hey, how much trouble can you get into staying with your decrepit GREAT grandmother & grandfather? Well, actually, I won't get into that here. Suffice it to say I had some very interesting summers spent with some rather colorful relatives over the years.

Let me tell you, this summer is the beginning of the rest of their summers for my children. Grandma called up and asked for the billionth time if she could have them for a visit. She called in the middle of 5 year old screaming at the top of her lungs because 10 year old was telling her something outrageous like the snake that had gotten into our house was now stored in her pillowcase. I mean, come on. Which one do I beat here?! The screamer? The bully? How about both? No! How about I take grandma up on her offer?! Knowing full well that 10 year old would pitch a fit the likes of Vesuvius I said, and I quote "Please god. Please. Take them!"

The woman was down here before I had them packed. And she lives 750 miles away. And she doesn't drive.

Commence 3 weeks of just us and the baby. Ahhhhhh.

Sarcasm, A Great Parenting Tool

2009-07-02T15:57:00.000-07:00

And you know you've succeeded in raising a well adjusted child when they run up to you laughing their ass off telling you to read this cartoon.

And yes, I play Garfield in this one.

Summer Entrepenuers

2009-06-22T11:19:00.000-07:00

Ladies and gentlemen we have our first lemonade stand of the season. We plan on bringing in great amounts of revenue and offering licensing in the new future.

Keep posted!

Breastfeeding

2009-06-18T10:26:00.001-07:00

First, I just want to say I'm all for breastfeeding. Obviously, I mean I fed my little boob suckers for at least 12 months each. I just want to rant a little about the side effects that NO ONE talks about!!

I have a friend that described what your boobs look like after breastfeeding for an extended period of time like this:

"Take a tube sock. Take a golf ball. Hold the tube sock up by the top. Drop the ball in it. That's what your boobs will look like after you give the wonderful gift of breast milk to your children for any length of time."

I laughed the first time I heard this. I had only had one kid at the time. Here I am 5 years and 2 more kids later. SHE IS SO RIGHT!!

I'm totally disgusted. I went bra shopping for the first time since I finished breastfeeding my 3rd child. I was trying on bras... I started at my original size, 36 B.
Too big.
So I went to a 34 B.
Too big.
My breast tissue has flat out (no pun intended) disappeared! I am now a
34 goddamn A!!

What the hell is that?

I just have to say, WTF?! I think formula may have been cheaper than the boob job I'm going to have to get.

Most importantly, considering the missing breast tissue, all the hours spent sitting still while I let someone suck on me like a cow, all the embarrassing mishaps with milk squirting everywhere (front of class, Calc 2 - yeah, that was fun)....I better get TRIPLE Mommy points for this somewhere down the road.

I'm 36

2009-06-11T06:40:00.000-07:00

I've never been in prison.

I'm not a grandma.

And I'm fast enough now that if a bear were chasing me I might have a chance of getting away.

Life.

Is.

Good.

:-)

I Left My Heart in New York

2009-06-10T16:15:00.001-07:00

I disappeared. Again.

This time I blame it on New York. I left for a quick 4 day trip and never really returned.

Here are some pictures just to make my heart ache more.

A bookstore. The smell. Oh, the smell.
First they don't have used bookstores in my suburbia and second, I don't believe I could take a 1 year old or a 5 year old (let alone both) into a store packed with that many books and even dream of being able to do anything but keep them from climbing the shelves.
Oh but the smell was magnificent.

Was the pizza fabulous because I was in NYC? Or was it fabulous because it was 10pm and we were able to just walk down the block and grab a slice?

I KNOW these fries were fabulous because it was 1am and I was 3 drinks under. Oh the grease! Oh the salt! Oh the alcohol! Oh the freedom!

Practice Makes Perfect

2009-05-28T14:14:00.000-07:00

I have this working theory. If my kids are having a problem with something, say, not getting a present when their sibling gets one, that just means we have to practice giving presents to everyone but them until they get used to it. If they start fighting about a toy I tell them it's time to practice playing WITHOUT the damn thing for a while. If they can't be quiet during an important 5 minute phone call, you guessed it, we need to practice being quiet more. The 10 year old has caught on. 5 year old and baby, not so much.

I'm leaving tomorrow for a 4 day trip. First, I have a baby who acts like an extra appendage. For the life of me, I don't know why she likes me so much. She has an issue if I go to the bathroom without her. SHE needs some practice. Then, the 5 year old breaks down in tears this morning over me leaving. Say what?!

I know what this means. I need to practice leaving more and often. Texas anyone? Seattle? Arizona? Jamaica? I'm game and I'd only be doing my children a great, great service.

Summer? Summer!

2009-05-27T13:55:00.002-07:00

Remember the plastic kiddy pools from your childhood? Remember filling them up, emptying them, putting dirt in them, catching frogs or salamanders and trapping them in there. Remember finding the drowned squirrel in it one morning? What? No. Oh, that must have just been me.

My kids love the crappy little $7 plastic pool. And the sprinklers. The can't get enough of the dang hose. Every other house in our neighborhood has an amazing pool of some cooler-than-shit California design or another - really, I checked on Google Earth. These kids could be combing the streets making friends based on whether or not their slide is a tunnel or the jacuzzi is hidden by a waterfall. But no. NO. They want to play in their itty bitty plastic pool. Even more amusing is that their friends love it too! They come over to PLAY IN OUR SPRINKLERS.

I tell you. You can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you can't take the trailer park out of the genetics she passes onto her children and you can only sit back and enjoy it when the neighbor's kids start showing their's too!

Potty Time

2009-05-13T16:03:00.000-07:00

It's that time again. POTTY TRAINING. Poo in a sack. Pee in a cup. No diapers. Wet pants. Trying not to heave as you cut princess covered drippy, crap-filled underwear from your lovely baby's dimply butt. Wonderful imagery, isn't it?

I was unreasonably lucky the last 2 rounds. While I did have to handle some messes, my mom did round 1 of potty boot camp for me while I finished up my last semester in college. My mother-in-law did round 2 while I was hiking around Yosemite. I swear I didn't plan it that way, but damn it worked out well! Now I'm stuck with round 3. No more mothers to use and the other 2 are busy. Double damn.
She's only 19 months old so I'm not freaking out here. But she walks up to tell me when she's parking some bark and when she's done and if I've missed it. She watches all of us use the facility with apt attention and hands us the paper and waves bye-bye as our products do a happy little swirl into poopy-land. So, I'm going to do what I did with the other 2, pick up a potty for her to lug around the house for a few months before we pick a potty boot camp week.

Have you looked at the potties these days?! They sing songs. They travel. They are molded. They transform. They hold the toilet paper. They probably have one that will wipe your kid's ass for you. What the hell? Seriously. These things were not this complicated 10 years ago. I just need a miniature toilet look-alike that has a cup I can take out and, you know, rinse and sanitize. It doesn't need to play my kid's favorite Katey Perry song or do the pee pee dance with them. Seriously. Has everyone gone mad? I mean, really?

The Family That Eats Together

2009-05-11T21:24:00.000-07:00

I believe in the whole family dinner thing. I believe in it so much I think I will capitalize it - The Family Dinner. I fight to get my husband home on time for dinner. I yell like a banshee at the kids to get to the goddamn table or else! It's my thing.

This is why. Sometimes we get good, otherwise highly classified information from each other in this setting. I don't know what it is about shoving our faces full of food, but the brain relaxes and the stories start flowing. I won't get into the burps and other bodily sounds that I could use less of, but I do love finding out that 5 year old was singing "I Kissed a Girl" on the playground, or that husband played a funny fart joke on a V.P. at work, or that 10 year old has a crush on a *gasp* B-O-Y.

I also keep a camera handy. Why you ask? Well, I've picked up many gems. Here is one that I love dearly:

And here is the most recent one that will probably have me stripped of my Mother of the Year status almost immediately, but the joy I will get out of posting this publicly will easily outweigh any joy I'd get from a stupid award:

Yes, that's my daughter. I love her so. And I will never, ever doubt the value of the good old fashioned Family Dinner routine.

Mother of the Year

2009-05-09T14:17:00.000-07:00

Finally! I've gotten the recognition I've been working so hard for...

Mother of the Year - 2009! <--- click this link for the amazing news coverage!!! I'd like to thank my family and most of all my friend Jane, who has always been a great role model, letting me know when I might be about to cross the line into CPS territory and generally keeping me out of the jail cell. Thank you, thank you, very much! Oh, and HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY everyone!!!

Frustrated Much?

2009-05-04T17:17:00.000-07:00

My poor blog is messed up. My domain is not forwarding to blogspot. In all fairness I may have messed things up trying to resolve blogspot with my domain, finding out that then left a lack of direction where the whole lack of prefix was involved and then switching it back.

Basically I screwed with it.

I put in a help ticket with GoDaddy, but I'm not convinced that they are ran by actual people so we'll see how that works.

Anyway, just wanted to apologize for any inconvenience, but I don't generally apologize for things out of my control so all I'd really be apologizing for is screwing with it in the first place, but really, I kind of know what I'm doing and I think this is all GoDaddy's fault. You should totally ask my husband about my lack of ability to say I'm sorry. Ewww. That gave me the hives just writing that word.

Also, I'd like to ask your advice: should I switch to wordpress while I'm still young and fresh or are the benefits of the community of blogger worth sticking around for?

Master Manipulator

2009-05-01T19:55:00.000-07:00

The baby is working on perfecting her manipulation strategies.

Look, what we have here is a baby that at her 1 week check up, I just had to asked the doc, "Hey doc, you ever hear of a newborn using sniffling and crying sounds to totally twist her whole freaking family around her pudgy little finger?" Doc said, "Why yes. I have personally witnessed it." Having watched her use her wiles on all of us for the past week, I totally knew he was right.

Right there, I looked at her and said, "Hi kid. You haven't really gotten to know me yet. Let me save you some time and fill you in. I'm not gonna' fall for it, so save it for the rest of the family." And so began the power struggle between mommy and one of the cutest damn babies ever.

I say "Bad Girl" and she looks up at me, with her shit eating grin and says right back, "Bad Girl!" I have to remind everyone that the number one family imperative is NOT to give the baby whatever she wants. She starts her fake little cry and suddenly everyone is throwing things at her..."Want water?" "Want crackers?" "What car?" "Want your ass kicked?" Oh wait, that was me.

Let me tell you, if for some reason she doesn't stay so f'in cute, she will definitely be able to bank on her wily little ways to get by.

In Support of Madlyn Primoff

2009-04-24T11:22:00.000-07:00

If I could get away with shouting this, I would. I'll lay off the caps though. The Mother posted a great article 'In Support of Madlyn Primoff' yesterday. I asked her if I could link to it and post with the same title. It would be absolutely awesome if blog posts with this title started showing up everywhere.

If you are thinking - who the heck is this Primoff lady? What are you talking about? Here are some examples of the LAME-ASS headlines from the last couple of days:

Mother Dumps Kids by Roadside.... ABC7.com
Bickering kids land mother in jail... TVNZ
Mom kicks bickering daughters out of car, drives away... Dayton Daily News
Madlyn Primoff kicks her children out of car, drives off... The Star-Ledger - NJ.com
Madlyn Primoff Incident: When Parents Reach the End of Their Ropes... Wall Street Journal Blogs
Prominent lawyer busted for leaving kids... ABC7.com

Good gawd people! Really?

The Mother points out that we do not, I repeat, DO NOT, have all the details. The MEDIA has fed us whatever little nugget they think they have, blow up to whatever proportion they think will sell their papers/blogs/newscasts. Seriously, look at it as you should look at everything...what are they trying to sell me? This woman is being vilified all over the place with little to no facts released and more importantly NO STATEMENT FROM HER. Which probably won't happen because now she's a fucking criminal. ARGH.

Here is an excerpt from an article about the reaction to Ms. Primoff from Free Range Kids:
"...Naturally, I do not think that this mom handled her kids in a truly optimal way. But most of us have days when we don’t. That doesn’t make us criminal parents. It makes us human parents. And kids are built to live with humans, not Robo-Mama."

And most importantly, what I hope is addressed here is the culture of fear we are creating by listening and reacting to the media in a way that makes it near to impossible to get back to working as a community to be parents and raise independent and healthy children who know discipline and reap the benefits of parents who use it wisely.

I've a Feeling We're Not in Kansas Any More

2009-04-15T12:55:00.000-07:00

The sky is falling! The sky is falling!!!!

No, it's just that my husband has officially become a casualty of the economy. As of Monday we are a NO income family. Yikes.

In my inane optimism I feel like it will all work out. Well, it doesn't take optimism to know that, really. I mean the sky isn't really falling, right? We will land where we land in the end.

So, this is how I handle these things. We talked to the kids on Monday. Explained that things were getting cut back ASAP. That this will probably not last long, but has the potential to hoist a lot of change upon or little land. And then, I, in my patented coping process of flinging sarcasm around freely, proceed to use every opportunity to exploit the situation. It's totally freaking husband out, but it has been entertaining me. Here's a typical exchange over the last 2 days:

One of the girls: Mom, I have to go potty.
Me: Ok, but go light on the TP we can't afford a plumber if the toilet gets clogged. [yelling at retreating child] On second thought, if you are going to wash your hands anyway, just use them.

Girls: Mom, what's for dinner?
Me: Well, in light of recent events, I think we will be catching crawdads for dinner tonight. Get your overalls on girls!

Girls: Mom, can I get a new shirt that looks like hers?
Me: Sure. Why don't you make a sign that says something along the lines of "need money for a new shirt like hers" and I'll drop you off in front of Target.

Me: [630pm] Time for bed!
Girls: What? It's still light out!
Me: Well, in an effort to conserve, and save the polar bears, I have removed all light bulbs. This means you best be in bed before sundown or you'll have to contend with the DARK.

See? I AM an optimist and in a sick and twisted way, I'm totally enjoying this.

- and just in case you are all "oh no, she'll freak the kids out..." they are totally rolling their eyes at me. My poor husband may not survive my sarcastic onslaught, but they will.

Judy Blume - Curse You!

2009-04-09T16:25:00.000-07:00

I was negotiating or discussing or whatever, sending my 10 year old out to The Mother so she could have some pretend mother/daughter experiences. Like watching 'Mama Mia!' or painting toe nails or some estrogen filled crap like that that she totally missed out on, having birthed only boys. I mentioned that now would be a god time because she has gotten a hold of Judy Blume and is all up in my grill with questions about divorce and puberty, some of Ms. Blume's favorite topics.

The Mother was all, who's Judy Blume? I was like, hahaha. I mean, who doesn't know who Judy Blume is? Then she was like, you really aren't going to tell me, are you? Wow. I filled her in.

I told her about how she wrote books like, "Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret. " or "It's Not the End of the World " which made her really famous. How those books talk about girls hitting puberty but they also talk a lot about divorce. I think that was a huge topic that hadn't been brought down to the kids level yet. She also wrote the fun 'Super Fudge' books AND some naughty books for the big girls like, "Wifey" and "Summer Sisters."

So, I'm like totally excited that my girl, MY GIRL, is reading the books that I read as a girl. We can share. We can talk. BOND. Right. Actually, here is where my darling 10 year old, who is a MAJOR worry wort, starts reading these books that describe divorcing parents as fighting or not talking to each other and suddenly is suspicious of EVERY SINGLE MOVE my husband and I make. I'm getting grilled left and right about divorce. Then she starts in on the books about puberty. I'm fine with this line of discussion, but the kid must be thinking about it 24/7 because every single time we get a moment alone she is asking me some question..."Does it hurt to have your period?" or "How will I know when I have to wear a bra?" or "Did you use a tampon when you got your period?" Geesh kid. How about we talk about those Polar Bears you were so worried about? How about you run along and play on that swing set like a cute LITTLE GIRL?! And no, Dad and I are NOT getting a divorce. Be worried if I start digging a hole for a pool though.

Interview With A Mother

2009-04-07T13:20:00.000-07:00

The chick who is putting together THE Mother's Handbook. Who has survived medical school AND raising 4 boys. Who's site, The Mother's Handbook, can offer you sound advice about anyone in your life who is making you miserable. Has sent me an interview that will either make you love me more or send you scurrying off never to be heard from again...

She called it, Interview With A Mother.

What is the weirdest thing you have ever done with duct tape?
You know it makes good handcuffs, right? But maybe the weirdest was when, being a flat chested Betty, I needed some good cleavage for a costume and I vaguely remembered reading that beauty pageant gals use duct tape for lift. Indeed, I took a long piece and taped my cute little tatas (this was before children when they were less platypus like) together. Let's just say that direct contact with sensitive skin and duct tape is not recommended.

10 year old says it was when I patched up her shoe where her big toe was hanging out and made her wear them forever because I couldn't get to a store. Which is surprising because she always tells the 5 year old the story about how I once duct taped her fork to her hand for the rest of our meal after she had dropped it 10 times in 2 minutes - with food on it!

If you could have one superpower, which one would you choose, and why? (and you can't cheat and use Sylar powers, either)
I should probably choose something like - to heal the wounded. But, man, would I like to fly.

What talent or skill do have that you would have to hide from the PTA (if you indeed belonged to the PTA)?
That I know anything, ANYTHING about tech support or web development. Heck, I keep that from most of my neighbors.

How did you meet your husband?
We met at Kmart. Technically we were both working at Kmart - in Humboldt County. Let me tell you, there is NOTHING worse than a discount store in a depressed community. Seriously, people just pop in to use the deodorant and then put it BACK ON THE SHELVES. Also, the boss liked to tell the story about a very large Samoan woman trying to shop lift a TELEVISION by hiding it BETWEEN HER THIGHS. She almost got out the door. True story. Yikes.

Anyway, I walked into the break room one day to get something out of my locker only to find my EX-boyfriend had left his shit in there AGAIN. His shit included a can of pringles. I picked up the can and dropped it and then proceeded to kick it all around the break room and gingerly replace it back into MY locker. I didn't know husband at the time so I didn't even acknowledge that he was sitting there during the whole thing just watching me. I walked out and the ex walked in to retrieve his pringles and was all, WTF? Darling husband never said a word. When I was introduced to him later on he said, "Nice work with the pringles."

Tell us one fact about him that explains why you haven't divorced his ass.
He looks hot on his motorcycle and can debate philosophical shit that I can't even wrap my brain around.

You have girls, which is a total trip for me. What career path would you just DIE if they chose?
Okay, you might think I'd say pole dancer, but really, I don't know if I'd have as much of a problem with that as I would if they decided to become corporate money grubbers who didn't give a shit about anyone or anything but themselves and their own bankroll. Really, they could do anything else and I'd be able to handle it - as long as they were happy.

If we follow the rules, I get to interview any of my readers that dare to ask. Muwahahaha...

Leave a comment telling me that you’re into the interview. I’ll email you the questions, you post the answers on your blog, and then you have to offer to interview YOUR readers.

Let's get to it.

P.S. Here is The Mother's interview - good stuff!

Food For Thought

2009-04-04T15:02:00.000-07:00

I'm ripping off someone else's hard work today. Mostly because my comment was practically a blog post in and of itself. I feel bad about that.

So here is an exceptionally eloquent post about simply being aware of the consequences of our food choices from Brian at Eat Me California.

Now, I don't really know these guys, but I like their blog. In fact, they might not even have kids. For all I know they could be selling small children on the side to pay for their very extravagant, eating out 3 times a day, lifestyles. Also, I think Brian might have been intoxicated when he wrote this because it was supposed to be a post about his visit to the pinnacle of steak excellence, Ruth's Chris, but it really doesn't matter as his passion shines through. Though I still want that review...

And don't let this post fool you, normally they are macking down on good stuff like Mexican food or omlettes and giving us all the gory details. And when I say gory, think - long gray hair, in your breakfast.

If you care, my ramblings can be found somewhere in the comments.

Pictures of Us

2009-04-02T15:15:00.000-07:00

One baby with a huge, bruised goose egg on her forehead from throwing her unstable body at the corner of the bathtub. Repeatedly.

A week camping trip with an infant and a 6 year old and the following supplies: one crazy mom, a flat of top ramen, instant oatmeal, a tent, 3 styrofoam cups, a couple of sleeping bags, one burner, one pot, two plastic spoons and one bag of clothes.

Wet, naked baby running down the hallway screaming super sonic screams, dripping everywhere, jiggling like jello the whole way.

10 year old walking down the street with baby in duct taped stroller, 5 year old trailing behind looking like a true hussy in black go-go boots and short denim skirt. Five bucks in her hot little 10 year old hands for the candy store.

The slapping sound of naked baby trying, and failing, to stand up on the wood floor - in her pee. Repeatedly.

5 year old falling backwards off the swing with a deep thud while trying to heft baby more than half her size onto her skinny little lap.

In the middle of a crowded parade route, stalking complete strangers with strollers, begging for a diaper to replace fully loaded and very aromatic piece wrapped around 10 month old baby.

3 girls crazy dancing and singing with total abandon to the Mama Mia! sing-a-long for the millionth time. And 5 year old asking why Sophie has 3 dads for the billionth time.

9 year old writing a poem about colors that goes on and on for page after torturous page but almost makes you cry with the metaphorical illustration and the innocent optimism.

Mom and Dad, grey haired and tired, rumpled and crumpled, rolling around in bed at 6am with screaming, laughing baby, 5 year old and 10 year old. Until someone falls off the side...

My First Baby

2009-03-28T09:51:00.000-07:00

She farts. She burbs like a champ. She pulls her pants up past her chest and walks around with underwear on her head. She make us laugh uncontrollably. She can be her sister's best buddy and her worst enemy. She has her father wrapped around her little finger like a pipe cleaner. She can tag my warped sense of humor in nothing flat. She loves to read. She kicks ass in karate. You wouldn't know behind those braids and that cute smile that she can deliver a back-fist punch like a reflex.

She is 10 today. 10 years old. 10 years of smiles and laughter and tears. I can not believe I had a hand in creating this amazing, radiant little girl. I can see in her the baby I held not so long ago and the woman she will be at the same time. And even though I'm an evil, heartless mommy, my heart really does ache with the love I have for her.

Yin and Yang

2009-03-24T14:02:00.000-07:00

Do you and your spouse parent the same? My guess is you don't, but if you do - yay you! Really.

This is how it goes in my house. I say time for bed. Dad says let's finish Beavis & Butthead. I say 1 cookie is enough. Dad says it's a party - have all you want. I say what do you think about letting the kids play in the freeway while we go to Target? Dad says something sensible like let's hire a babysitter. It's exhausting.

I hear told time and again how I'm the disciplinarian and he's the softy. Those 3 girls have him wrapped around their fingers! Boy, she runs a tight ship!

Nothing like being pigeonholed. Like I want to crack the whip?! Well maybe a little. But I would really enjoy it if I had a partner to crack that whip with. We could stand side by side dressed in leather like superheros cracking our whips while our kids follow our every order including making us perfect mixed drinks like a Mai Thai or Gin & Tonic.

Hmmmm...that little scene doesn't quite sound like I thought it would. Well, maybe we are supposed to have these distinctly different roles. Maybe as frustrating and hair pulling of an experience this team effort can be, we are supposed to sort of balance each other out. Sort of like yin and yang with a whip and a remote?

Heels

2009-03-18T12:28:00.000-07:00

One day I was shopping for shoes with my friend. For some odd reason I decided to try on a pair of honest to goodness heels. I put them on and walked around a bit.

I told my friend I felt like a bona fide grown-up. I felt like I could really play the part in these puppies.

An older woman a couple of seats over chuckled and said, "Now you know - we are all faking it."

Friends and The Trusty Bathrobe

2009-03-17T12:03:00.000-07:00

Friends can be a pain in the ass. I know this from first hand experience. They can complicate your life, give you crappy advice and judge you when you least need it.

Not my friends though. One of my more recent mornings from hell two of my friends caught wind of it and stopped by. One of which is currently in her own special kind of hell that won't seem to end. Another of which made a trip to my favorite bread shop to pick me up something hot and doughy meant to lift my mood out of the disgusting slime filled gutter. They both did this independently. How warm and fuzzy is that? Like an old trusty bathrobe I tell you.

More recently my friends awesomely supported me when my Grandma died and I was at a loss realizing that my family didn't want to do anything to acknowledge this woman who profoundly effected so many people in her life. My friend said, "Why not have a party and celebrate her with us? We haven't met her, but what the hell, you talk, we drink and eat - good times!" Wow.

Friends take you and your family to Brazil, bunk you up in their house, visit you on a crazy ranch in Arizona, go camping with you and your brats, supply duct tape, chocolate or eat your baking. Friends will bug you to no end about being stupid or ask your advice like you actually know something. Friends can come and go like seasons, but when they are there they want to be nowhere else. It takes work to find good friends and cultivate them, but in the end they are like oxygen, a person can really start to suffocate without a good friend or two to know and love.

I tell my daughter that her friends, the people she chooses to be with and share with, are a reflection of her. That learning to recognize and take a chance on a good friend is a skill that she'll take with her for the rest of her life. So when she finds herself being sucked into the quicksand of life she can reach up and have a hand or two waiting to help pull her out.

I hope my kids learn that friends are worth the effort. Learn how to make and keep good friends and you have a skill and foundation not unlike bedrock - not in a cold, hard, lumpy kind of way, but in that solid underneath all the loose stuff kind of way. Something you can always count on - friends.

This Is What Parenting With Duct Tape Looks Like

2009-03-16T12:37:00.000-07:00

This Is What Joy Looks Like

2009-03-16T10:03:00.001-07:00

My Grandma

2009-03-06T13:21:00.000-08:00

My Grandmother passed away today. This is the woman who probably shaped my life the most out of anyone who had a chance to get their 2 cents in. This is the woman who had the courage to save my life and rescue me from her own daughter. This is the woman who taught me how to be a card carrying member of the suck it up club. This is the woman who taught me what survival is.

She was born during the depression on a farm in Nebraska. Told me stories about riding her horse bareback to the one room school house she shared with her 2 sisters and a brother. Moved to Los Angeles with her family when she was a teenager. She survived being widowed twice. The first time as a young woman alone with a small child in the 1950's. The second time at the hands of a criminal who chose my unsuspecting Grandfather as his victim. She survived her daughter's torment through drug addiction, prison and eventual suicide. She raised an amazing son, my Uncle, who has every lick of this woman's tenacity, intelligence and logic. This woman was tough. She never felt sorry for herself. She took what life handed her and kept on going.

When I lived with her, I was a young child and could not fully appreciate the courage it took for a 50 something year old woman to take her 2 grandchildren and flee to the other end of the state for their safety. I didn't fully appreciate what it took to take us to the park alone, or to the beach, or on crazy vacation adventure. After I had children of my own I told her how much more I understood and that I appreciated what she had given me during my childhood.

She bought my brother and I bikes and told us to come home when the street lights came on. I came home with the pad of my toe almost completely severed. Not one word about me not wearing proper shoes. She put me in the tub, rinsed it and taped it up. I wouldn't have dreamed of complaining that I couldn't walk because of it. One time when I came home crying that some boy had pushed me into the water we had been playing around she stood out front listening to me then turned around, grabbed a big stick off the wood pile and handed it to me. That was it. No talking. I knew what to do. I chased that boy 3 blocks before he hid behind his pregnant mother's legs.

She would tell us to grab our shoes and head out to the car. We were going exploring. Sometimes that would constitute a meandering drive around the city. Sometimes we would find ourselves checking into a hotel hundreds of miles away. She wasn't an outdoorsy woman, but took us to all the local beaches and parks often. She inspired in me a lifelong love and respect of nature without ever saying a word.

Her conversations were always lively. She loved to play the devil's advocate. To this day I don't know which party she voted for because she would argue with anyone no matter who they were supporting. She was very generous but liked to help people her own way. When I was in college she would tell me to take her to the grocery store because she hated the damn new scanners and didn't want to unload her own cart like a damn fool. When I went with her she would make me push my own cart which she would fill and pay for without a word. Half the time I thought both carts were for her. I can't tell you how many times I was with her when she would put a homeless person in our car, drive them to the local all-you-can-eat buffet and pay for their meal.

When I feel the tenacity flowing through my blood. When I get something handed to me that resembles a pile of shit and I push it aside and keep on going, I think of her. When I try my best to be witty and it rolls off as pure sarcasm I remember all the conversations we would have while I was growing up where I was taught the fine art of sarcasm and it's many implementations.

What I value in myself I see came from her. My stubbornness, my problem solving skills, my whacked sense of adventure, my lack of domestic skills, my twisted sense of humor and my Spock-like logical take on life all come from this woman who I was lucky enough to call my Grandma.

I'll miss you Grandma. Thanks for making me who I am.

Fits R Us

2009-03-05T16:00:00.000-08:00

We all do it. The kids, the parents, all of us. The difference is the abandon with which we throw our fits.

My 5 year old throws fits with total abandon that look like the Tasmanian devil has suddenly appeared. At 2 I had to remove all the cute kid furniture like the little table and chairs and the kid sized hall tree she hung her dress-up on because she would pick them up and CHUCK THEM across the room in her fits of rage. At 3 she kicked a hole in her wall. NOT ok. BUT her fits are short lived. 10 mins max and she doesn't hold grudges.

Almost 10 year old throws restrained fits that look like a volcano erupting. Seriously. She will rumble and rumble and finally spew as hurtful of words as she can think of (these have gotten more sophisticated over the years) like we are yucky or her sister is stupid or the favorite, she hates this family. Gasp! Of course there are tears involved because these girls can turn on tears like sprinklers on a switch. She will get sent to her room where you won't really hear anything, but you WILL get the ICE COLD shoulder for a day or two. Oh and the LOOKS she can throw should be patented. They will someday have the power to kill.

So far the baby looks like her fits are short, loud bursts and easily stopped. No long crying sessions like we saw with 5 year old at this age but certainly not the silence we saw at this age with almost 10 year old. Looks like we got 3 completely different versions. Yipee.

I most likely resemble a bomb. A very predictable bomb. They all KNOW how to set me off. Then, just as the neighbor is dialing 911, everyone scrambles and then I'm O.K. Mostly I just want to see them MOVE. Hey, I give them logical warnings like, "Cut the crap RIGHT NOW. " Or the eerily calm, through clenched teeth, "You will listen to what I am saying." I LOVE when I can pull off the scarier-than-Jason-the-psychopathic-killer calmness. So effective, but hard to count on all the time.

But having a fit doesn't necessarily suck. Fits can get a point across or let off steam when needed. We all get in our grooves and sometimes someone has to holler or thrash around a little to wake us up. "Hey YOU! Listen. To. Me." Or, "Look down here! Here, here, here!!" Or a little bit of, "What the FUCK?!" Can be useful here and there. Don't you think?

A Little About Nothing and Sheets and Vodka

2009-03-03T09:36:00.000-08:00

I am trying to write and answer my email and catch up in Twitterville. Consequently, I have 42 abandoned entries and nothing to post. Meanwhile, the baby is bringing me random things from around the house. What was an empty counter at which I sat with only my computer and a cup of tea is now covered with: a phone, 2 movies - 50 First Dates & Josie and the Pussycats, 3 different pieces of tupperware with 5 different lids, the remote control, "Beginning iPhone Development", "Flat Belly Diet", a karate shoe, "Hello, Cupcake!", a lunch box, a rubber frog, an assortment of what were clean dish towels and cloth napkins, a brush, a stuffed cat, a platic seahorse and a sock.

What the fuck?

Is she trying to help with inspirational offerings? Is she commenting on the inconsistencies in my book collection? Maybe she is cleaning up for me? THAT is what I need. A fully trained 1 year old maid. Yes!

On a whole other note. How often do you guys change your sheets? Really. This topic was brought up with the last post and the whole mopping thing. Which THANK GOD I will never, ever have to do again because I'm well known for sticking to my word. But really, when do you change your sheets? Like regularly? On a schedule? When they smell funny? When they LOOK dirty? When they disintegrate into dust and threads? I'm just wondering if my practice of changing them when the 5 year old begs me to is so off base.

Also, I found a cool way to save money and survive parenting...http://www.wikihow.com/Make-Vodka

Life Is Good

2009-02-28T11:08:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting on the couch, in my pajamas and it is 11:09am on a Saturday. I have HGTV on, a blanket over my legs, tea at my side. Life Is Good.

That said, can I mention how difficult it is to maintain this goodness? It's laughable really. Husband walks in and freaks out about stepping on crumbs on the floor. Kids are hungry. Baby is thirsty. I quietly get up and sweep, mop, feed baby, make muffins, feed the muffins to the kids and then make my tea and settle back onto the couch. Husband comes out and declares there is no way I have mopped. Did I use the 'right' mop? Did I sweep first? At this point I'm concentrating on breathing. Sitting under my blanket, tea in hand, just breathing.

Husband leaves for a blessed half hour to pick up 9 year old from karate. Baby goes down for a nap. I'm back on the couch. Yes! No. 5 year old walks in and really, really wants me to play restaurant with her. I. Don't. Want. To. Play. I want to lounge on the couch, watch HGTV, drink my tea and screw around with Twitter. HELLO?!

Ok. Ok. I'll play a little restaurant. I'll facilitate the 2 hrs of slavery the 5 y/o owes the almost 10 y/o. I'll clean the kitchen. I'll make lunch. I'll GET UP. Since that is what they CLEARLY want me to do.

Life IS Good.

Oh Shit

2009-02-25T18:44:00.000-08:00

9 year old has been farting angel feathers for 3 days straight. I'm scared. Husband is scared.

Of course we are fully appreciating this strange occurrence, but WTF?!

UPDATE Sat 2/28:
I did confuse a lot of you. We use "farting angel feathers" as code for - that kid is acting so much like an angel she probably ate one.

And the aliens returned Mistress Mood Swing today. While we wondered where she had been, we didn't necessarily miss her. Hopefully the next time they take her they'll keep her longer.

Leftovers

2009-02-23T20:10:00.000-08:00

My family doesn't eat leftovers. I've tried freezing them, not freezing them, sending them in lunches, lovingly holding said family members down with my foot on their chest while I pour it in their mouths - they just spit it out. Darling husband touts this distaste for leftovers as a defect and wears it like a badge.

WHY? WHY? WHY?!

I need them to eat leftovers because I can't seem to cook the perfect amount of food for a family of 5 who may or may not eat a lot or a little depending on the direction of the wind. I need them to eat the freaking leftovers because I can't stand to throw away anymore food. I need them to eat leftovers because THERE ARE CHILDREN STARVING IN AFRICA goddammit.

Hot Defined?

2009-02-22T02:02:00.001-08:00

Today as I was laying around feeling very sick the only thing I had to look at was my bookshelf with books stuffed in it at every angle and lots of old pictures in silly cheap frames. There are several pictures of my Darling Husband in our early, pre-kid years. I was remembering when I chose those pictures to frame and why - I thought he looked hot, why else? What are they pictures of? Him wrenching on the cars...reading and looking all studious...on his motorcycle in his leathers.

So I got to thinking, why and what makes you look at your partner and think - I don't care if your feet stink or you left the toilet seat up for the millionth time, I want ya' baby, something bad!?

I have come to realized over the years that I totally get hot for my hubby when he is doing something manly. WHOA. Wait a minute here. I'm an evolved girl, how could I be so shallow?! I DON'T KNOW. But I tell you, when I see said husband all sweaty and digging a hole or all greasy sticking out from under a car, I have an impulsive reaction of, yuuuuuumy. What is that?!

When he is on his cruiser (our big old flame covered Victory) I'm all about that manly hunk o' meat! Huh? He's lifting something huge and heavy and I'm all, Yeah baby wanna' lift me?! What the? And even though this hasn't happened since he had lasik, when he is kicked back all manly in the big chair reading some thick intellectual book that I would never touch, with his glasses and stroking his goatee like he's thinking something hard. Hmmmmmm, the quiet intellectual manly-man I could take some of THAT. Where the feck is this coming from?!

Are we all this...this simple? Is it just me?

On one hand I have to appreciate that my attraction to partner-whom-I'm-chained-to-for-eternity is so basic. I mean I can always fall back on that right? Feeling out of like? Hand him a shovel and convince him to dig a hole while I sit back and admire the man-ness oozing from him. Wanna' have some fun? Loosen the drain plug on the van and watch him slide under and come out all oil covered and ready to go!

On the other hand (and this is where I obviously think too much) I wonder, are we all this basic? Are we driven by these basic human urges and desires that really boil down to grunting and being dragged around by our hair? That all the couples therapy and self help books and talk, talk, talking can't even touch?

I wonder, what is it about me that keeps Darling Husband coming back for more? I'm beginning to think it isn't what the media tells me...fix your hair, do your nails. It's probably my baking or the way I fold towels, something disgustingly role-of-the-woman. I don't know. I do know that he's on me when I feel the crappiest. When I'm like, you want a piece of THIS?! WTF?!

I guess I totally get The Pioneer Woman's gig with Marlboro Man. What is it about your partner that makes you stop what your doing and lose your train of thought? Makes you want to jump them like monkeys in the jungle? Come on, help a girl sort out her issues - share a little!

Homework

2009-02-18T21:42:00.000-08:00

I can't take it anymore. She asks me for help. I saunter over knowing full well I will have the answer. BUT I will NOT give it to her. NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES SHE ASKS. Dammit. I won't. I won't. I won't.

This dance is exhausting. I am wondering for how long will she do this? Will all the kids do this or is it just a personality clash thing?

I end up wanting to put her out on the street corner with a sign that says "I argue with my mother FOR NO REASON AT ALL." Seriously, my sister did this with my nephew. I've included a picture. This is for real. And it worked! He stopped lying. I'm not convinced that this tactic will work with needless homework arguing in an attempt to manipulate your mother into giving you the goddamn answer. But what can I do besides totally boycott helping with any homework. GEEEEEEEEZE.

There is no more frustrating conversation than one that goes round and round with "What do you think?" "I don't know." "Really? You don't know?" "I don't know." She says as she looks at her nails. "Well why don't you START by looking at the BOOK!" Crazy making I tell you. Crazy valuim popping, xanax crushing, put it in your orange juice making.

Argh. Then she starts up with the tears. How hard her homework is, it's too much, she doesn't have her book. I'm thinking to myself, look sister, you are in 4th grade, it only gets harder from here so suck it the fuck up and get on with it. My patience lasts for about 5 mins. 4 of which I'm looking for an exit.

How people home school their children, I DO NOT KNOW. You all must be blessed with the patience of Mother freaking Theresa.

I Said STAY

2009-02-12T14:29:00.000-08:00

Please make it so I don't ever, ever, ever forget this. So that if someday I have a lobotomy and I only get to take with me into the mindless abyss this one thing I will. Because this is my third try at it and I have failed miserably the first two times.

I just can't get enough of this baby. The walking, talking, smiling, warm and soft, charming in all the right places, never has morning breath, feet smell like roses and has the cutest little voice EVER baby. And please, PLEASE, I want to remember this FOREVER.

I have a vague recollection of this yummy like a muffin phase for the 9 (almost 10) and 5 year olds, but nothing clear. By the second round I was figuring out this shit might be hard to hold onto. But no. NO. Aware even, I could not tie it down.

I want to squeeze her into nothingness so that all I remember is the here and now. I want to smell myself INTO her little body. I want to hold her down and tickle her until the whole house is just filled to bursting with her sweet little belly laugh.

This is disgusting. I'm so not this maternal. Really. Ask my sisters or my friends. I'm a throw them to the 'gators kind of gal. But oh, I sure suddenly feel desperate sitting here watching her pull out the tupperware and slobber into every single last piece. I don't think cameras can capture this for me. I don't think writing it down will either.

So I will have to command her to STAY. To freeze. I will demand that she not grow another inch or progress another second towards independent 5 year old or smart ass 9 (almost 10) year old OR ELSE. Or else what? She's like grounded until she's technically 40 and I've stunted her into some freak show of a 5 year old. Yep. That sounds great.

On Being a Contest Slut

2009-02-10T09:58:00.000-08:00

So I see people do this and I've thought I would only do it for something good. Something I'd be willing to sell my soul for. I would advertise for someone else on my blog, in my post, IF it was something I totally could never get for myself and would friggin DIE to have. What would this thing be?

FREE housecleaning for a YEAR! A whole amazing, dirt free, sparkling bathroom year. DAMN. I will totally sell out for that. I would drop to my knees and kiss the feet of whoever knocks at my door to give me this awesome, life-changing prize I have just won. Oh yeah.

So, here is the link:
http://www.bidmycleaning.com

Go there. But just pop over and don't try the arduous task of entering the contest because really, I want to win and you'll make it harder for me if you enter. But you COULD just go and check out the site and see if they can offer you anything and NOT enter the contest.

See how I am?

My Poor Karate Kid

2009-02-09T12:12:00.000-08:00

Oh man, I just found out today that my kid's school has canceled the talent show. Damn. Normally I would be fine with this, but almost 10 year old has worked herself up for the last two freaking years to get enough courage to do this.

She wanted to sing. The girl inherited my musical genius. Which is none. I figured I wouldn't forbid her from singing I would just let her know that she doesn't really have an actual 'talent' for singing. So I told her she really sucks and please to not insist on putting anyone through the audio and emotional torture of watching her wail on stage.

She did look a little bummed and maybe I felt a little sorry for her lack of talent in the one thing that EVERYONE wants to rock at so I wracked my brain for a couple of weeks trying to come up with a talent that she really does have. Nothing. Poor talentless kid.

Then one day the light went on. She was giving a kick-ass kicking pass demonstration to someone. Karate! Errr, kickboxing really, but it looks like karate, all kicky and swingy and hardcore. She DOES have a talent. Oh mother of god, thank you for saving me from worst mother of the world award.

So I suggested she ask her sensei if he would hold a board for her to break WITH HER BARE HANDS at the end of a kicking pass on stage. How freaking awesome is that?! Dude. I am so impressed when I see her breaking those boards and now she even breaks them with her elbow! Dangling boards even! I was so excited for her. She was finally excited. She asked sensei Bobby. He said YES! OMG. She was so happy. Finally.

Fuck. Do I tell her it's canceled or let the school drop the bomb?

Thanks Anyways

2009-02-07T11:58:00.000-08:00

My friend, the preschool teacher, was telling me about this particular kid in her class who was a miracle baby. The mother has diabetes and worried she could not have her own children. When her son was born she was so happy and joyful and continues to be. Everyone is inspired by how much joy she clearly gets from parenting this little boy.

This friend, who is also a mother of 5 mind you, (and should really have a blog of her own - see Outtakes ) says to me that when she sees this mom and thinks about her own children she feels kind of like the kid who opens a fabulous present at her birthday party, surrounded by family and friends - everyone else is impressed with this present and the kid, well, she looks at it and says, "Awww, I already have one of those."

P.S. I am being asked to add that this friend of mine really loves her kids. She says they are little blessings, every single one of them. All 50 of their fingers and toes even. Each one an unbelievable blessing. Even when she thinks they are all fast asleep but is told by the officer checking on the 911 call dispatch received that probably one of them is awake and practicing their numbers.

On Marriage and Motherhood

2009-02-05T15:55:00.000-08:00

Momversation had a discussion about marriage and motherhood - which one is harder for you? I followed that conversation to Girl's Gone Child and her discussion. Here are my thoughts.

I'm so good at following directions. If you give them to me, I will follow them to the tee. I love directions. I can't handle the thought of doing something that I know someone else has already figured out. Why waste the time? Parenthood, while it doesn't come with a manual (bummer) does come with some prereqs that even the least intelligent person can (mostly) understand. Keep the kid alive. Really that is the base. Anything above that is golden. And also there's like a million classes on the subject if you are interested in spending your time that way.

Marriage. Yikes. It seems like such a straight forward thing to start with all the contracts and signatures and I dos and then it changes and morphs and doesn't stop. EVER. Two complete persons with their own baggage and experiences and perceptions of the world coming together and trying to make one life out of it. Sounds doomed from the start.

I have been married for 16 years. I got hitched way too young. I'll be the first to tell anyone that. I should have been working out some understandings and kinks before I stepped into this contract, but hey, this is the path I'm on now. In those 16 years we have experienced together college, new jobs, births, deaths, illness. We have had changes of heart and changes in direction. How do you deal with this? Where are the marriage classes? Where is the class on becoming part of someone else's family? Where is the class on living through your partner's bi-polar treatment? Where is the class on handling your partner's life/job dissatisfaction? Where is the class on how not to run naked and screaming in frustration down the middle of your street? How about the class on compassion and sympathy and where to apply it? Where is the class on SURVIVAL?! Ok, some of these may exist, but I sure as hell don't see them listed in the Park and Rec catalog.

For me, marriage has to be looked at like something viscous. Like lava. All hot and melty and easily diverted. Yeah, that's marriage. Lava. You gotta respect lava and it's enormity. If you try to change its makeup, its essence, you kind of change its form, like, it freezes. Then it gets all hard and maybe crumbly and then isn't really lava anymore. It's like crumbly rock or that sharp rock that you walk on and it cuts your feet up. No good. You've got to let it flow. Accept it for what it is. Maybe in a marriage you work hard to make sure everyone is allowed to flow but still touch base and reconnect here and there. The effort goes into staying lava.

Good god, that doesn't make sense. What I'm trying to say is that I think marriage is MUCH harder than motherhood. It's not like I had anything amazing to live up to in either respect, but this marriage thing just seems immensely more clumsy and painful than anything that mommy land has handed me - yet.

P.S. The part about this conversation I forgot to add was that marriage has been an amazing journey no matter how difficult. As hard as it can be for people to figure out, a strong marriage will produce a rich life.

My husband and I have built an amazing family over the years we have been together. We have had the wonderful experience of growing and learning along side each other. Of forging a life that is ours to share together and with our children and family and friends. Rewarding is the word that a lot of people use. And my understanding so far is that yes, if the effort is put into it, marriage is a rewarding endeavor for all involved.

I was never taught this and I have talked to many people who are shocked at how hard it is to be in and stay in a committed relationship and in contrast how natural parenting can feel. But if you read the blogs that started me on this subject you'll see plenty of people who struggle with parenting like they never would have believed possible and find marriage a walk in the park.

There, I think that is most of what I was thinking. For now anyway.

Outtakes

2009-02-02T13:33:00.000-08:00

Wikipedia: An outtake is a portion of a work (usually a film or music recording) that is removed in the editing process and not included in the work's final, publicly released version. My note: but you can usually find it on YouTube.

Here is a friend's outtake that shall go down in history as the day when her twins were nicknamed M&F.

One day I was on the phone with my dear friend and mother of 5. We were jabbering away. She had just moved into the home she grew up in which meant we could no long walk to each others house to chat. Hearing nothing in the background I should have known something was up, but what really tipped me off was when she suddenly yelled "YOU MOTHER FUCKER!" And then hung up on me.

I'm not the panicking type, but I was ready to stuff my 5 y/o, my newborn and my big postpartum ass into my car as quickly as I could and race across town to probably save the lives of one or both of the cutest little boys ever. How did I know it wasn't the dog she was yelling at? I had been babysitting those two angels since they were babies. I had them tag teaming me at 6 months old. One would go for the fireplace while the other went for the knives. Mothers of twins know EXACTLY what I'm describing here.

Turns out as she was talking to me she had popped around the corner for ONE SECOND only to return to one of them ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE shoving Halloween candy in his mouth in total crazed savage mode, while the other had flung WET COFFEE GROUNDS like a monkey flinging poo all over the kitchen. Counters, floors, electric stove top. Really. In a heartbeat her precious prodigies had created a scene no one wants to walk in on, clean up, or witness in their kitchen ever. Ever. Hence the unfortunate outburst.

She called me back a few minutes later, just as I was deciding between calling 911 or CPS. They were fine. She was going to crack a beer at 9am, but the good sons were fine. To this day one of her cousins thinks it's funny to ask, "So which one is M and which one is F?"

I just love telling that story. Does that make me the YouTube of parenting? Hehehehe...

Tonight Was Great

2009-01-29T20:54:00.000-08:00

Hubby is out of town this week. He left 4 days ago. Tonight I sent the kids to bed at 6:50pm because I couldn't stand the sound of their voices.

They were so confused, the poor little things. I said it with a smile and a wave. Ok kiddies, early bedtime.

But why mommy? It's soooo early!!!

Oh, I said with my most enchanting smile, I just can't handle your voices right now. Shoo now, I'll be in to kiss you night in like 6 minutes.

9 (almost 10) year old looked at me with a crystal clear WTF?! expression all over her face.

I rolled around on the couch with cuter-than-shit baby and zurberted her until I'm sure she peed her pants (thank goodness for diapers) and when I went in to kiss them goodnight....they were already asleep!!!

Hah!

So, what I meant to say was that I knew INSTINCTIVELY that my kids were feeling run down and needed some extra sleep. AND I can tell by how quickly they fell asleep a full hour before bedtime that indeed, I was right.

I'm the most tuned-in, kick-ass, nurturing mother out there. Oh yeah.

Why Not Have a Litter?!

2009-01-28T10:51:00.000-08:00

I have had 3 children. No, I have BIRTHED 3 children. Well, that doesn't even sound like the monumental task it is to have a 10 pound baby cut out of you, then to squeeze 2 others out your vagina like a clot in the toothpaste tube. But as horrific, I mean, as beautiful of an experience as that was I am so taken back by this weird, freakish desire to DO IT AGAIN. WTF?!

I keep having these thoughts, in between the whole, I need a job, I need a job, what am I going to do with the rest of my life, where am I going, thing. These thoughts of oh wouldn't it be nice to have another baby? I can totally do it again. So cute. So cuddly. I'd totally do it without an epidural. (Give birth, not IT - I don't need an epidural for that yet.) And this is the thought that makes me KNOW I'm crazy:

It would be easy.

EASY?!! What part of carrying a blood sucking fiend for 10 months IN MY BODY and then staying awake for 3 more months to train it and then squirting body fluids EVERYWHERE FORFREAKINGEVER is easy?! What part of having 4 damn kids would ever be easy?! And with my luck I'd drop like 4 eggs and they'd all split and I'd have a whole litter to deal with.

I've come to the conclusion that I'm being driven by some animal, out of my control, hormonal, instinct thing. I must be. These thoughts are not logical. A lot like jumping out of a plane without training OR a parachute or asking your 9 (almost 10) year old to hold that nail for you. So therefore, I am going crazy.

I'm hoping this will pass. Will it? Please let it. Please.

Maybe I just need to call the vet now and make an appointment for myself.

New Parents and Crackheads

2009-01-23T09:19:00.001-08:00

Let me fill you in on my general parenting philosophy. It goes like this:

If you care even a little bit you can't really fuckup.

WHAT?! What about all the people in therapy talking about how their parents horrifyingly messed them up this way or that? What about all the inmates who blame their criminal inclinations on early childhood trauma? What I'm saying is not that your kids won't complain or that you won't make a mistake here and there, but that if you care enough to actually click on a link like Parenting With Duct Tape and wonder what the hell someone would post there, you are already doing a good job. Really.

Look, crackheads raise kids. Some of those kids don't make it, some don't turn out half bad. Here I will tell you a little bit about myself and my history. You can run if you like or continue reading.

I was raised by an teenage/polygamist/criminal/drug-addicted/alcoholic/rat-bastard of a woman. I made it through infancy with this person-parent thing along with a brother 18 months younger than me (and later 3 others did the same). We were then passed between freakish foster care homes and sometimes freakier relative's homes. Then back to the Grandmother of said crackhead for 4 or 5 years where my brother stayed and I chose to give the speed-freak, crackhead another chance. That landed me back in foster care where eventually I found a nice family with their own brand of fuckupedness, but hey, they loved me. Still do. I think. And they got me through most of high school. They rock in their own lovingly messed up way.

Which brings me to my thesis. Look at the assholes and freaks that get all these babies through infancy. Really. LOOK AT THEM.

I am now living in an upper middle class suburb of L.A. and I see an abundance of New Parents act as if their precious little bundle will be rocked to the core and forever modified if they, for instance, eat something off the floor (come on 10 sec rule people!), or if the kid looks up and realizes they've been abandoned by mommy for half a goddamn second or if they aren't in the right gymboree class or wear the right clothes or have the right response to whatever. Enough already!

Here is my advice. Take a breath New Parents. BREATH. Really slowly. Take a step back and watch your new bundle grow and explore and get dirty and get the crap beat out of them by another toddler at the gym childcare or beat the crap out of an unsuspecting toddler themselves. Let yourself enjoy these years when you can call your baby a Little Shit for throwing their banana at you and I'm telling you, IT WON'T HARM THEM. Soon enough you will have to watch most of your words. But when they are new and you are new with them, cut yourself a break on your standards. Your love will shine through, no matter the brand or implementation. Believe me, your love is what it is all about.

Singing In The Rain

2009-01-20T20:21:00.000-08:00

5 year old is so good about telling me all about her day. She bounds into the car, smiling, big dimples and all, and yammers and yammers about what she did and who she played with. To tell you the truth I don't even listen past the 2 min mark, but I do appreciate it.

Paying enough attention to throw in the odd comment or two I hear her describing to 9 (almost 10) year old all about the microphones that her and her friend Molly made today. They were rock stars! They danced and they sang and you know what?! Molly started singing a song that Lucy knew! Really, what song? Oh Mommy, she knew 'I kissed a girl and I liked it, taste of her cherry chapstick!'

I look at 9 (almost 10) year old, eyes wide. Her eyes are wide. We are careful not to laugh for fear it will encourage her or let her know the entertainment value of what she just did. Then she starts in on different renditions of the song that her and Molly did for EVERYONE on the playground, my favorite being 'I kissed a squirrel and I liked it, taste of her cherry chapstick.'

OMG. Maybe I should listen to radioDisney or maybe KISS or something. I am expecting a note from the teacher.

I Can't Remeber What Brought Me Here

2009-01-20T13:20:00.001-08:00

I am insane. Lately. I keep walking circles around my house. For instance, I will replay the last 10 mins.

I want tea. I fill tea pot, put it on to boil, realize I haven't started the dishwasher, fill the dispenser thingy, water boils, so I reach over to turn it off, pour it into my tea maker thingy I got from Teavana (love it), stand there for a second, because it is only supposed to brew for 1 min, pick up a towel, think to myself that I should change the sheets to *hopefully* rid my kids beds of the germs they are *hopefully* god, or whoever, help me, getting over, go strip two beds, grab the towels from the bathrooms because they probably have germs too, dump it all on the floor in the laundry room, step to my computer, tweet, watch a video of Jenny, The Bloggess, forward it onto my sister because she snorted her muffin crumbs reading one of Jenny's posts the other day and my husband because he thinks it's funny I dissolve into hysterical laughter and tears when I read him her posts, think, it's quiet, oh, I forgot to turn ON the dishwasher, step over to do that and realize I left my $120 a pound (I don't buy it by the pound BTW) green tea brewing for like 10 min and now I can either drink something that will taste like lawn clippings or I can start this whole process over again.

Was that as painful for you as it was for me? Because I was really trying to get across how painful it has been for me to stay on task lately. Like throw me over hot coals because that is how painful it is, except that I would know how to solve that problem, GET OFF THE HOT COALS DUMMY. This problem, not so much.

Dating With 3 Children

2009-01-18T08:16:00.000-08:00

Here is how it went down yesterday. Around 2pm. Me to husband, "Hey, did you still want to go out tonight?" Husband, "Yeah, sure." Me,"Ok, look up movie times and text Nina." Husband, "Ok."

Around 4pm, we are at a party for our friend's kid and I ask husband if Nina had gotten back to him. Husband hasn't gotten around to texting babysitter yet. Ok, what movie did you want to see? Husband replies that he doesn't know. WTF?! Do you WANT to go out?! I text Nina at 430pm to see if she can babysit at 530pm. Sure, she can. I ask husband, what would you like to do? I don't know, says husband.

We pick up the babysitter on the way home. We dump 3 kids and 14 year old off and tell them not to burn down the house and if a kid disappears to find a replacement. We get in the car and start driving. To where? We have no idea. To do what? We have no idea. We ate at the party, so dinner would be a waste. There isn't a movie we are willing to drop $21.00 to see. We end up at a coffee shop. We order, sit down and pull out our iPhones. I look up and think, really?! I put down my phone and stare at husband. Sooner or later he puts down his phone and stares at wife. We drink. We stare. Maybe we talked a little. About chickens or porn or both. I doze off a bit when he goes to hit the can. Let's just go. Whatever. We tried.

On the way out we pass a store I really like that is open at this late hour. Ha,ha. Big sign, 40% off clearance. I just want to pop in for a minute. The clerks are bored OUT OF THEIR MIND. One of them is trying on clothes and proceeds to ask us if her ass looks ok in these pants that are clearly giving her camel-toe like I've never seen before. I decide to try on some clothes. By the time I'm out of the dressing room husband is having a deep conversation about bands with the other 20-something clerk. I put my purchase on the counter, pay for it, listen to them for a few minutes, start browsing, have an uncomfortable conversation with the other clerk, browse some more. So on this date, where we can't hold a conversation, somehow husband is finding himself totally yakking it up with this young little thing. I want to butt in or something, but I feel so guilty for our lack of conversation that I just let it go.

We finally leave and wouldn't you know, just as we pull into our driveway we strike up an actual CONVERSATION. We spend the next HOUR AND A HALF sitting in our goddamn driveway talking. We could have totally done this on our own dime, in the house, while the kids were sleeping. WTF?! I'm telling you, I just don't get this whole dating thing.

The husband and I try to get out, without kids, on a somewhat infrequent basis. It's not like we are afraid to leave the little brats or that our whole stinking lives revolve around them, it seriously boils down to this: we have no idea what to do when we do get a babysitter. The whole thing is so contrived. What do I want to do when I have relinquished the care and feeding of my kidletts to anther person? Oh let me list the activities: write, sleep, organize something, read, run, hike - none of which can I involve my husband in, would he like to be involved in, or you can do at night, which is usually when the babysitter is available. But we go through these motions of arranging for a babysitter because, well, because we should?

Then there is the expense. These teenagers are asking $10-$15 an hour! WTF?! (When I was a kid I got $2 an hour $1 if the kids were sleeping.) So there is $50 for the babysitter at least. Dinner, you could keep it cheap, but why not go somewhere you would NEVER take 3 rabid monkeys? $50 for dinner. Wanna see a movie? That's $10.50 a head!! So right there you have $121.00 for a 4-5 hr night out with your spouse, who you love lots, but don't want to hang out with so much when the price tag is so high. $120! Do that twice a month and you have a $240 'date night' bill. No way.

This is what we have done. I let 11 and 12 year olds watch my kids. I get grief for this, but you know what? They are new to the business, eager to please and if I give them a 20 for the whole night they are STOKED. I try to pick the mature ones. Ha, ha. Maybe ones I've known for a while. I don't ask much, just feed the kids, clean up and shove them in bed around 7:30pm. Usually they get most of that done. We have also been skipping dinner. One because we probably ate already or two because we feel like fat bastards and gorging after 7pm does not alleviate that in the least. So that brings me back to what to do with this man, who I love dearly, have created this lovely family of future inmates with, have spent the last 16 years of my adult life with, well, okay, the only 16 years of my adult life since we met when I was a wee little teenager? What to do? Any ideas anyone?

What Control Issues?!

2009-01-14T16:11:00.001-08:00

I want to share some things I cannot let go of no matter how illogical they may be. And yes, I'm doing my best to force my kids to comply with them all.

But what I want to know is what are your control issues? What do you hang on to in your life that really you could let go of and the world MIGHT not fall apart?

- Beds must be made everyday. If this does not happen I will probably feel REALLY off all day but never get around to making them thus resulting in a bit of yelling as I attempt to enforce this little compulsion of mine.

- There will be no laying around in PJs all day. I can't stand pajama day at the schools, but I suck it up and don't say a word as my kids sloth off to school in the clothes they slept in. Not a single word.

- I like schedules, ie: laundry, homework, cleaning. When I have schedules up it makes me feel calm. Like I know what should be done, even if I don't do it. I even write schedules up for my friends to use at their homes. They don't use them though.

- I like my drawers and cupboards organized even though you can't see them, but I LOVE my bookcases looking all messy and crammed with books.

- I won't tolerate entitlement. People with entitlement issues bug the living shit out of me. If I sniff even a little bit of entitlement coming off my kids guaranteed there will be a lecture and some glazed eyeballs staring back at me.

- I HATE the passive voice. I have been caught explaining to my 3 year old what the passive voice is and that WE don't use it. "It broke" will drive me through the roof.

- I bake, I feel happy. As much as I enjoy baking, I cannot bring myself to share this with my kids. What's wrong with me?! They ask, I let them try, I freak, I take over. I know I should involve them, but it KILLS ME.

- Please hang up the towels. I have a strong desire to scream when I see towels on the floor. Of course I suppress it most of the time.

- Floors must be clean. Dust can be an inch thick, but the goddamn floors have got to be clean.

I'll stop there because I'm starting to feel like a freak. Maybe if you all add some more I'll be able to continue.

Research Has Lead Us to Believe

2009-01-12T09:40:00.000-08:00

I received one of my child's school newsletter the other day. I like to review these quickly as they can contain some timely and import information on occasion. There is usually a little letter from the school counselor with some tips on parenting. Hey, we could all use tips. So I'm reading this letter, which falls after the reprimand from the Asst. Principle about how we really shouldn't be hitting children with our vehicles during drop off and pickup, and I'm thinking, really?

This letter is entitled 'Increasing Your Child's Achievement.' The counselor talks a bit about how we need to convey to our children the importance of school and that the little things, like not letting them miss a day of school to go to Disneyland (not a good message apparently) are just as important as telling them flat out that school is their job. We need to check their homework every night because that sends the message that we care. Just attending conferences and looking at report cards is not enough. All this will also teach them that effort is important.

This is followed with a point 2 where she is worried about giving our kids the internal drive to preserver through all this hard work. This is where she starts in on the parents who praise a lot (see We Are All Whiners) and the ramifications of said praise. Hello! THEN she starts quoting "recent research." Research?! It took research to see that telling your kid they are the best all of the time could possibly have a negative impact on their ability to put effort into anything?! It took research to see that unearned praise will eventually be ignored and totally discounted?! It took research to understand that a kid who gets rewards for NOTHING will not have persistence?! Good grief!

I don't want to discount her advice. It is good advice. Try to praise specific things, like "Hey Junior, I like the way you take the time to flatten the duct tape before you put it across your sister's mouth." or "Oh Sally, I'm so impressed with the effort you put into disconnecting all the plumbing under the sink." And she advises to keep praise intermittent so they are on their toes never knowing what you will pat them on the head for. You know, praise, like vaseline or duct tape, is good and useful when applied correctly.

Let's just not get so far from where we need to be that we have to look for research to swing us back around to real life. It may just all boil down to one of my favorite mottos: Use your brain.

What 2008 and My Kids Taught Me

2009-01-05T22:51:00.000-08:00

What the heck?! I started this thing, I need to write on it. Here's my excuse. My kids have been sick. For 3 weeks now. I've been sick for a week now. Lame, I know but I'll lay it out there. Those kids just suck almost every last ounce of umph out of me when they are sick. I didn't become a nurse for a reason. I suck at it.

I have been using my time to passively search the blogosphere and am really quite enjoying it. There are so many amazing blogs and oh the Mommy blogs. There are many. So I just want to say thanks for stopping by, you have a lot to choose from and well, thanks.

I've started a list of things I may have learned from or because of my kids during 2008. It was my sister's idea. She's cool like that.

1) Horses can laugh.
2) 5 year olds can reach in-human pitches when screaming, especially when they are in packs.
3) Children are so eager to forgive and forget. I was taught that over and over this year.
4) You really do have to say something 2,000 times before it clicks. But I did see it click a couple of times in the 9 year old - I swear.
5) Wide open spaces heal everything.
6) Teenagers really, really want to be treated like they have brains, but don't be fooled. Their brains are stuck on stupid and they will prove it to you every time you start to believe otherwise.
7) New friends are sometimes old friends really, really fast.
8) Change in perspective can come from unexpected things.
9) A little mud can go a long way.
10) Fun is in the eye of the beholder.
11) Girls like sling-shots too.
12) You can use goats to herd sheep. And children to herd the goats.
13) Dogs get stuck in the darndest places.
14) No matter how smelly you are, if you have fur, you will be loved.
15) Babies know how to love perfectly and in exactly the manner you need it.
16) Baking is awesome therapy for anyone involved.
17) Wearing your food is an important part of the developmental process.

What did you learn from your kid or kids or friend's kids or your dog or your cat or even your iguana?

Oh and Happy New Year!!

Marriage

2008-12-29T12:54:00.000-08:00

In the car this morning I am letting the baby hold my hand so she'll stop the incessant whining.

5 year old, "Ruthie loves your ring mommy."
Me, "Hmm."
"Is that your wedding ring mommy?"
"No, it's my shackle."
"Do you have to wear it your whole life?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
"Because Daddy makes me."

And the voices in my head start in with:
"Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam...
And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva...
So tweasure your wuv. "

Please tell me you know where that quote came from.

Did I mention that at some point I decided to become 'ordained' thru ULC and married my sister and renewed vows for my in-laws. I guess that is another story for another day....

Dearest Santa

2008-12-23T10:41:00.000-08:00

Please excuse me for any bad behavior I have exhibited the last week or so. I have been stuck in my house with sick and cranky children and may have reached my wits end. I am hoping that you will overlook the screaming match I had with my 5 year old over her screaming. I'm also hoping that you will overlook that I made my sick 9 year old help me clean the house because she wouldn't stop complaining. It may be iffy, but could you overlook the 10 hours a day of mindless television with no parental guidance whatsoever? I did suggest they change the channel when I saw the end of an ad in which you were hanging a candy cane on a thong tacked up to a fireplace mantle.

I don't know why, but somehow after 3 or 4 days I start to slip. My patience is maybe a little thin. Stepping on my 5th or 6th petshop might send me into orbit. Hearing the piercing screech of a child who was just told by her big sister that you are not real and even if you were she is getting a lump of coal might push me to do things that in ordinary circumstances may not occur so swiftly. The constant whining of crawling everywhere, getting into everything baby who may or may not feel 100% herself could possible have me rocking in a corner praying for mercy.

Please Santa, though you have no children yourself and obviously think the majority are angels, I hope you can cut me a little slack during these wonderful, bitch-cold, festive days. I hope you can see within your heart a bit of understanding for my current circumstance. I promise to drink a little more, see what my doctor can prescribe me and approach the New Year in a haze of patience and unwaverying love.

What do I want for Christmas you ask? If you see fit, please send a universal remote with a mute button that works on all ages including 1, 5 and 9 year olds. If that isn't possible, maybe one of those wonderful instruments of tourture I saw at the Midieval Times castle. (I was particularly fond of the thumb crusher.) I can see that your elves might have trouble producing the gifts mentioned above so I'm willing to settle for an extra supply of colorful duct tape to help me through the next year.

Sincerely,
Devoted Mother of Three

Duct Tape and You

2008-12-22T07:40:00.000-08:00

Please post the many ways in which I'm sure duct tape has helped or enhanced your parenting experience! I will then put them in the list on the side of my blog. If you guys actually participate (and I know you are out there, because my traffic counter sees you!) we can have a list of epic proportions...muuuahahahahahah!!

We will change the face of parenting forever!!!

Don't be intimidated, any little task accomplished with duct tape is worthy of the list. ANYTHING! And if it has a story, post that too!

Roller Coaster Parenting

2008-12-20T20:17:00.000-08:00

Today, one year old almost reduced me to tears with the cutest version of 'no' I have ever seen. 5 year old inspired me to hang myself from twiggy trees, butt crack showing and all just to surprise her. 9 year old had me hanging onto the edge of insanity for her lack of understanding of what an attitude is and how to lose it.

I'm sure tomorrow the 5 year old will screech in-human sounds every ten mins making me want to throttle her like the chicken I saw my great-grandpa prep for dinner. And probably the 9 year old will be farting angel feathers in response. Of course the one year old can do no wrong.

I feel like the emotional roller coaster these kids take me on is soon going to require medication to keep me from being ejected from the seat I'm loosely belted into.

Hanging onto Bah Humbug is Harder Than You Think

2008-12-19T10:42:00.000-08:00

I'm having a hard time getting into the spirit this year. Which is wrong, wrong, wrong because I have 3 cute little girls that really, really want to get into the spirit. They are having to drag me through every single holiday by my hair.

Halloween went like this. "Mom, can we decorate for Halloween?" Sure I say. A week later. "When are we decorating for Halloween?" As soon as I move the cars, get the ladder out and pull down the tub that holds said decorations.

October 31st. I am at the grocery store with 9 year old getting stuff to make dinner. We walk by what remains of the completely picked over Halloween crap. "Hey Opal, why don't you grab a couple of things to hang in the window so you can decorate." She looks at me with disgust.

Thanksgiving went like this. "Okay Mom, can we decorate for Thanksgiving?" Sure I say. A week later. "Mom, we really want to decorate." As soon as I move the cars, get the ladder out and pull down the same tub I never pulled down that holds decorations for Halloween and Thanksgiving. We are cooking Thanksgiving dinner and the 9 year old has a melt down. Okay, okay...I'll get the box. She proceeds to tape up every single Thanksgiving placemat and drawing that I have kept in the box over the years. They are taped up all over the house at about the 4 foot level. Every time I turn a corner one falls down.

A week and a half before Christmas. When are we getting a tree?! When are we decorating?! Look at all the houses that have lights up. Look at what a loser you are Mom for depriving me of my holiday cheer. Good grief. After unsuccessfully trying to talk the kids into letting me buy the tree at the grocery store, we pack up two fightig kids, ages 5 and 9 and a screaming 1 year old and head over to the farm. I have to interrupt an ultimate fighting match going on in back seat to demand holiday cheer TWICE on the 10 min drive there. Baby falls asleep only to be woke up by piercing scream from 5 year old because 9 year old pointed at her. Boy am I now in the spirit.

So let's go home drag down all the crap, unpack it and fling it all over the house before I literally use up all of my duct tape taping the 5 and 9 year old in a loving embrace.

Ornaments and fake pine boughoughs are strung everywhere, pine needles are sticking out of my hair, the tree looks like a Charlie Brown tree sitting up on a coffee table to stay out of reach of crawling everywhere and getting into everything baby....but when I sit down to have a cup of tea I look around at the lights strung all over and realize I haven't heard a scream in over an hour and the glow from the lights is making me feel warm and cozy.

Damn. My bah humbug is slipping away.

Make A Wish

2008-12-17T12:54:00.000-08:00

I'm at the local coffee shop, outside of which is a very low lying fountain all a sparkle with coins and flowing clear water. I look over to see the 4 year old hanging over INTO the fountain scooping out coins. Oh, she is so freaking busted.

Of course I yell at her loudly, in front of all the other patrons who only want to enjoy their caffeine in silence. I yell at her to put those coins back. I yell at her that we don't steal. I yell at her about all the germs in the fountain. I yell again about how we don't steal in this family and how what she did was stealing.

She looks up at me with tears brimming in her eyes and says, "Daddy told me and Opal we could take the money in the fountains because stupid people put it there."

Nice.

Mother of the Year

2008-12-16T16:18:00.000-08:00

9 year old comes home wigging that global warming is killing off the polar bear. What do I know? I can see logically that if the ice is melting they are probably loosing their habitat. But, you see, with Opal, I have to be careful. One wrong move and she is wound up, having headaches, stomach aches and can't sleep over her worry. It could be polar bears one minute and being first in line at the tetherball on the playground the next minute. You just never know what can set her off.

The next day she leaves the fridge door hanging open. AGAIN. Drives me crazy! So, I say, "Hey Opal, when you leave the fridge door open like that you are likely killing off a polar bear." You think I would stop there. No. She leaves the shower running and walks off to do something. AGAIN. Caring mother says, "Hey Opal, when you leave the shower running like that you are likely killing off ANOTHER polar bear."

She has since stopped leaving the fridge door open and the shower running. I am now a definite shoe-in for Mother Of The Year 2008.

Sea Monkey Mayhem

2008-12-12T09:18:00.000-08:00

9 year old Opal has money burning a hole in her pocket. As she is frantically crusing the isles of Target she spies a product that is new to her but has been around since the beginning of time...Sea Monkeys. Oh boy, is she excited. She loves the sea and she loves monkeys. What could be better?!

So she takes it home, mixes it up and proceeds to fret over them in a way only Opal can. She examines them for hours everyday as they defrost or whatever and start to grow. She calls her friends and describes in detail what they look like. She is the epitome of the perfect caretaker for these precious life forms.

Until one day...."Look Mom! The sea monkeys are playing piggy back!" Really?! Oh yes, the monkeys are playing piggyback. Then the 4 year old chimes in, "Mom, they really, really like to play piggyback!" Soon they are ALL playing piggyback. Soon she realizes that they are NOT taking a break from their piggyback sessions. She's 9, okay?! She gets it but she doesn't have the words yet to say it.

I've been told you aren't supposed to give them too much information. Only answer the questions they ask. I agree because well, no one is excited to do the delicate dance of the sex talk with their 4 year old or 9 year old for that matter. However, and this is where I get into trouble, I also don't want my kid to walk around with misinformation. I mean, I remember thinking that babies came out through your butthole until like 5th or 6th grade because that was the only hole that I knew for sure anything ever came out of. I mean, everyone poops! At that tender age, I decided I didn't want kids, ever. I was scarred from that. I wished someone had filled me in a little earlier.

So I say, "Well guys, the sea monkeys are making babies." The 4 year old is happy with this. "Yay, we're gonna have sea monkey babies!!" and she runs off to play with her ponies where she will now have them playing piggyback hoping for baby ponies to show up soon. The 9 year old is not satisfied. I have to play the part of psychic and therapist here. First, try to read her mind... second, spell it out so that she isn't misinformed or scarred. No pressure. "Mom, what are they really doing? Because I'm worried they are stuck. Maybe we need to help them." She says with sincere concern. Such a worry wort that one.

So I give her the truth. "Opal they are mating... do you know what that means? They have to get their bodies together so the eggs are fertilized and can grow." "Oh," she says, "so they will stop soon and have babies?" Well, yes, the SHOULD stop soon, but these ones seem particularly fond of eachother and won't STOP humping like, like stuck dogs in heat! A few days later Opal is questioning my information again because she is truly concerned that her monkeys are stuck and need help.

How to tell the kid that her cute little sea monkies are horny little insects that will not stop bumping the ugly long enough to even have their babies or lay their stupid eggs or whatever?How to address this delicate situation without alarming her or turning her off the sex talk altogether? How to keep her inquisitive and not be afraid of any information I might give her? How to show her how easy and open I am to talk to and how I give perfect, precise information every time?

"Look Opal, I think you have defective sea monkeys. I think they thought they were eating their babies and started eating each other instead. I think they got stuck that way. We might have to put them out of their misery." She looks at me with a mixed look

of shock and distaste. "Hey, aren't you glad WE aren't sea monkeys?!"

Working Out with Kids, or Inspite of Kids

2008-12-10T12:58:00.000-08:00

I just want to run. That's it. I don't want to smoke crack. I don't want to hang out at bars offering my body up for shots. I just want to run. For me, carrying a moose of a baby around inside of my body for 10 months actually puts a kink in this desire to run. Fine. But this last kid is now 13 months old. I JUST WANT TO RUN.

Every time I try to work it in, I get a schedule change like, my oldest tests up into another class in karate. Yay, that's great kid, but did you check to see if your new class works for ME?! Or my husband decides he is going to get into shape and needs to use the mornings or evenings or some slot I thought I could use to do so. I'm stuck between supportive spouse, "Oh yes honey, I will do whatever you need me to do to support you getting healthier." and bitch on wheels, "No f'in way are you taking a time slot that I wanted to use and you'll probably talk about using more than actually using it!" Mostly my filter is in place and I stick to the supportive parent and spouse role. Flaming running shoes, does it have to be this freaking hard?!

Add to all of this that when I do finally start running again paying special attention to ease into it so I don't get hurt, I go ahead and get hurt anyway. I go to the Dr. who says, like it's only logical, "And I'd like to see you in physical therapy at least 3 times a week for the next 6 weeks. Then you can check back with me before starting up your running again." Oh sure. I had to beg 6 people and juggle 2 pick up schedules just to get myself kid free to see you today. NO PROBLEM clearing 3 hours a week for physical therapy. Give me a break. Unless the therapy office opens at 5am or stays open until 12am, the likelihood of me finding myself being massaged by a hunky physical therapist and quietly learning what new exercises I should do everyday for a half hour, is slim to freaking NONE.

I can't even fathom what you working and single moms do to get your workouts in, if you do at all. I am lucky enough to have a partner and to not have a job I have to clock in to and it feels like I'm climbing the wrong way up an escalator just trying to get anything remotely resembling a workout crammed into my schedule.

So let's just state it here: we all know that working out is good for us. Great, in fact. We are better parents/partners/worker bees for it. We are healthier and will live longer lives meant to enjoy our families to the fullest. I don't know about you, but the mental health aspect of working out is HUGE for me too.

I know all of this, but why, oh why, do I still make this activity feel like such a damn monumental effort to get done when it should be as much a part of my life as brushing my teeth or taking a shower? Oh, wait, I've been a little negligent with those activities too.

Perfect!

2008-12-08T18:42:00.001-08:00

I was looking for graphics to spruce this place up a little and found this.
I can't stop laughing... I know I'm sick, but this is FUNNY!!!
I am disappointed that my cohorts and I didn't think of it first.

Bag O' Tricks

2008-12-06T10:50:00.000-08:00

So, in light of the incident highlighted yesterday, I was thinking, why don't they tell you in those parenting classes: P.S. All of this crap you are using your precious time and brain cells to learn will not apply to any subsequent children.

No, they don't tell you that. The teachers will say happily how their method has worked on all 6 or 7 of their children who are now all grown up and happily curing cancer and mothering perfect little children of their own. They don't say anything about how your first child and your second will likely be polar opposites and just when you think you have it down, the other one will throw you like a bull rider on a 10 ton ox.

I was actually called into a conference with (my now 9 year old) Opal's preschool teacher to discuss the fact that she wasn't aggressive enough. I actually sat down and tried to listen to the lady who was concerned because my kid was getting her toys taken from her by other kids and doing nothing about it. First, when you get to know me, you will understand why I couldn't even comprehend not beating the crap out of anyone who would try and take my f'in toys from me. Second, really?!

So, here I am 4 years later and I'm getting a note about how my middle child is kung-fuing to keep her spot in line in kindergarten. I'm sorry, but I had to ask around to figure out how to handle Opal. Lucy, I can handle. The part of me that totally backs her actions up is quietly surpressed while I ask her to keep her brawling at home where I can truly appreciate it.

I would just like to lament the fact that not only do these kids not come with owner manuals, but when you think you are on your way to getting at least a lesson plan done, they throw you under the bus. I can only hope that SOMETHING in this bag o' tricks I have worked hard at aquiring for the past 9 years will translate to at least one of my other kids.

A Note From the Kindergarten Teacher

2008-12-05T12:10:00.000-08:00

On Dec 5, 2008, at 10:41 AM, Hallie wrote:
Dear Amy,

Lucy has been having difficulty in class the past few days. She has been extra silly and talkative. Today, she had to miss part of our specialists because she and another student got into a physical fight (pushing and hitting) over standing in line. The yard supervisor had to physically get in between them to stop the fight. I have talked to Lucy and missing specialists was her consequence but I also wanted to let you know. Please let me know if you have any questions.

Thank you,
Hallie

On Dec 5, 2008, at 12:08 PM, Amy wrote:
Thanks Hallie for letting us know.

I don't have any insight into the behavior. I will definitely talk to her this weekend. We will discuss being respectful in class and saving the hitting for her sister. Just kidding!! No violence, no violence! If I have to keep it in check so does she! LOL. We will hug teddy bears and talk our feelings out, hopefully this will help. If not, plan b - I keep forgetting what that plan is...

All joking aside, please let me know if this continues.
Have a great weekend!
Amy

We Are All Whiners

2008-12-04T17:57:00.000-08:00

Curse the pansy parent who decided to make everyone a winner. In their misguided attempt to boost the self esteem of the children, they have stripped away the self worth of a whole up and coming generation. Created whiners the likes we have not seen before. Made it impossible to tell your kid, "Know what kid, you really aren't the best at EVERYTHING." Without getting 'tsked' at by the other moms on the proverbial playground.

I'm sorry, but that trophy that my 5 year old (and every other kid on the team) got her first season in soccer as a pathetic, non-aggressive, thumb sucking player is worthless in my eyes. I will toss it the second she needs more display space which was 30 seconds after she got it. Come on. When she cries because it is sticking out of the trash bin even she knows I'm right when I say, "Really?"

We are not all winners in everything we do. We need to know that. Our kids need to know that. Mostly we are average and so are our goddamn kids. What's wrong with average?! I, for one, am celebrating average. I love imagining my average kids NOT growing up with anxiety and regret about what they should of or could of done with the amazing talents they had in everything under the sun yet never succeeded in channeling. Let them be happily surprised when and if they do actually posses some out of the ordinary talent so they are free to do with it what they will.

Stop with the pressure already. Stop with the false hopes. Stop with the making of kids who do nothing but whine when confronted with the fact that they may actually have to put effort in their lives once in while.

Crosswalk Chaos

2008-12-03T20:22:00.000-08:00

As I was pulling up to the crosswalk down the street from my house this morning I noticed a dad dashing in between parked cars and running through the stopped traffic with his kid trailing behind him narrowly being missed by the oncoming traffic. Then I noticed another guy stop just before the crosswalk to let his kids out, holding up all the cars behind him in an already congested situation.

What normally takes an annoying 10 mins to get through took 20 this morning.

Normally, we have this kick-ass crossing guard. You don't want to piss her off. She will chase you, your car or your kid down to inform you of an infraction. That's cool, she keeps the traffic flowing and as far as I know, no kids have been mowed over on her watch. We had a substitute today.

You'd think it would be the kids creating chaos with a change in the guard. Nope, it was the adults. Nice.

Note:
Got a robo call last night from the principle. A kid on a bike was hit by a car in front of the school yesterday. He ended up being okay - only scrapes and bruises.

Geeze people.

Breastfeeding

2008-11-29T20:07:00.000-08:00