Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Gratitude With Attitude...the loving Mommy edition

Think Tank Momma

My Dearest Children,

Thank you for being such big helpers since Mommy hurt herself. Sure, I fell down the stairs in my haste to break up your fight...but, I blame nobody but myself. Mommy is in awe by the way you have picked up the slack by helping with the babies. Mommy is too high on pain medication to notice that *none* of your chores are getting done because you are playing with babies so that they don't 'saddle up' on her bad ankle.

Even though your toys are so strewn all over the floors (AND STAIRS!!!) in such a manner to prevent Mommy from being able to safely navigate her way on crutches, I am too grateful for the way you are, "watching TLL" and iCarly all at the same time to care. Really. You are little princes and princesses among mankind.

I would like to give an extra grateful shout out to the way you are keeping my mind sharp, by hiding your dirty clothes and forcing me to crawl around on all fours, plotting the path of least pain, as I go. As I make my 30th trip up and down the stairs today carrying your dirty clothes...I just want to say thanks.

There is the matter of your missing the bus that I would also like to address. The two of my children who were smart enough yesterday to 'forget' to set their alarms, and then sighed dramatically and said, "Too bad you're too hurt to drive us," as you eagerly grabbed the remote and cereal box...I KNEW WHAT YOU WERE DOING. That was why I dubbed yesterday, "Annual Spring Clean For Mommy, Because She Can't Day." I will admit that you did foil me by convincing your older brother to try the same trick today. His story was that his bus was early, and he "just missed it, too bad I can't drive him to school." Not only was I unpleasantly surprised, but, so was he. He is claiming that I hate him because I didn't bake him cookies and let him watch movies all day, like I did with you guys. WTF kids? How did I miss you growing into such manipulating little people? If you miss your buses tomorrow, I will call you a cab, and I will request the most frightening driver they can think of, and cheerfully send you off to school with the would be axe murderer...so, don't do it. Just, don't do it.


The Mother who is about to run the floor cleaner on crutches

You too can play along. Swing by Think Tank Mama's blog and grab her button, leave her a comment, and add your URL to her linky thingee.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Random...because I can't hold a train of thought

While he was home this weekend, I took my husband on my regular Costco shopping trip. We left with about half of what I planned to buy because he got tired and bitchy. I even reminded him not to complain because I usually run that gig solo...he could only force himself to remember my admonishment through dry goods.

I stayed off the crutches most of the day today, because I really didn't have many options, given that it was a school day and I have three little ones at home. I am in significantly more pain than I have been, since the first few hours after the sprain. If someone brings me a bottle of Jack, I will allow them to amputate.

Mothers everywhere, please take heed. If you find a plate in the microwave, and you would just swear it had been there for *hours* and you listen to your children when they tell you that it hasn't been that long at all? They are trying to kill you. You will eventually remember that it was for lunch (around noon) and that it is potentially lethal at 7:00 p.m. 7,000 trips to the bathroom in the middle of the night, on a sprained ankle, will completely rob you of your will to live. Your children knew this of course, but, they heard rumors about your life insurance.

A combination of spoiled food and painkillers create 'bad acid trip' dreams.

If you have a splint on your ankle, your three year old will swear it resembles a saddle. He will jump on it and demand to "giddy-up horsey," he will be fooled into thinking you are granting his wish, when your entire body starts convulsing and jerking in response to the pain.

When your daughter's BFF stops by the house to ask her to be the Vice President of her Justin Bieber Fan Club? Then you will be able to identify *exactly* why you aren't fond of her. Also, you will begin to feel secretly glad when your oldest son declares him to be, "like SO lame."

My Mountain Dew fix is up to 3-4 cans a day, that is exempted from my coffee cup count. Someone please slip some caffeine into an epi-pen and send it my way.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Just call me 'Grace'

As many of my Facebook friends already know, I did a header down our stairs. I started to panic when my ankle reached the size of a cantaloupe, and wouldn't hold any weight. I had it x-rayed, and it looks like it is just a sprain. I still can't put any weight on it, or move it, and it is now hovering around the size of an over-sized softball, the swelling is clear down to my toes though, and it's sporting a lovely shade of bluish-purple.

I would have video of me shampooing carpets today on crutches, but, my son decided I might be serious about beating him with my crutch and so he deleted it. It's a bitch folks. As if I wasn't already behind in my chores, now I am *way* behind, because I move almost half as fast, as the slow people you hate walking behind, in those electric carts at the grocery store. I might be moving a bit faster, if I had just borrowed the walker my grandmother had left from her knee surgery...but, I was like, "none of the cool kids are doing that." I'm such an idiot. The cool kids aren't falling down the stairs either.

My husband is leaving tomorrow morning. I am so royally screwed. Mostly, I want to bury my face in my pillow, clutching a beer, and my bottle of pain pills. In reality, I am holding out, I have a feeling I will be needing those pills worse after Hubby leaves, than I do now, and that is saying something.

I am so (so, so, sooo) far behind in my reader, but, I'll catch up guys. I hope all has been well with you and yours.

Thursday, March 25, 2010


If anyone has any knowledge of sprained vs. broken ankles, please give me a shout out. I'm desperate here.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010


No new stove. Burners are fixed. Oven is not.

I caught a frisbee in the face, and my nose is broken.

Will update later if I have a stove to be grateful for???!!!

Think Tank Momma

Dear Mom,

I love you even though we don't agree (on anything, really) and I know that you love me. I also know that you have nothing but contempt for the way I have chosen to live my life. It isn't necessary to make snide comments every other sentence to reinforce the point. I can assure you that every parent who has more than two children isn't guilty of child neglect, just because they can't devote every second, of every day, to one child and one child alone. I know that my children "didn't get a choice about having more siblings." There is a very good reason for that...it wasn't my children's decision. Nor, is it *any* child's decision to have, or not to have siblings.

My oldest son does not "deserve a vacation." Childhood is a vacation. Even with all those siblings he "didn't ask to be born," he has a very good life. He also has rules to follow, chores to do, and expectations for school work to meet. He also has lots of love, and plenty of fun. I know that you think that you can give him more love and better fun, but, he gets lots and lots of both here at home, really. I am doing my best to grow fantastic kids. They are so awesome, that I suspect I must be doing something right. I know I am not doing it in a way you approve of. Has it ever occurred to you, that my sisters and I took a *whole* lot longer to pull our shit together than we should have? Maybe, just maybe...instead of raising children destined to make huge mistakes that they will learn the hard way from...I am raising self sufficient children who know what responsibility is, and who have good decision making skills? Perhaps, because I make them take responsibility and make decisions for themselves?

Thank you for caring enough to have such strong opinions. I will respect you for having so much love for your grandchildren that you care enough to share your feelings with me. Now, please respect mine. Stop putting me down in little ways, to serve as constant reminders of issues we have 'let drop' because it isn't necessary, it is only hurtful.


Your daughter


Dear Laundry,

You suck. I hate the way you take over my life and my floors. Thanks so much for the way you suck the time from my day. I hate that, as Kim noticed, you seem to multiply at such a rapid rate, surely, it must be of your own volition.

I hate that you are in cahoots with my children, always playing hide and seek with me. I hate how heavy you are, it kills me to carry you up and down the stairs all the time. I suppose I should give credit where credit is due, and thank you for keeping me from turning into the slothful creature I would happily become without you.

Laundry, you're an evil bitch and I hate you!


The woman who owns 15 laundry baskets.

Sunday, March 21, 2010


My day started under miserable, crushing, choking pressure. It is ending on a massive high note. My truck, which was not starting, has been fixed. Yay!!! I was informed that the only thing holding my belt on, must have been some powerful, "don't leave me stranded with six kids," vibes because the tensioner pulley (???) was non existent. The idle motor thingee was actually the reason my truck wouldn't start though. There was also a nail in my left front tire. Now, with the exception of needing a brake light replaced, it is good to go. What a huge relief.

I also sent my brother-in-law an email today. I tried the 'honey' instead of 'vinegar' method that my mother always preaches, but, never employs. He was here within a half an hour, and he has promised me a new stove tomorrow.

Hercules and The Little Lady woke up without fevers this morning. Only the Baby Girl still has a temperature. Jelly Bean did come home from my aunt's house complaining about feeling dizzy and tired. She wasn't hot tonight, I guess we'll see what tomorrow will bring with those two.

Today was the kind of day that, even though it poured down rain outside, the shone shone for me. Thank goodness, and an even bigger thanks to my family.


I have been walking the Baby Girl for the past hour, during that time, a few things came to my attention. I think I am a marginally well trained mama. When I am walking her, she slaps my chest open handed when she wants me to bounce her as we pace. When I have been holding her in one position too long and she wants me to shift my hands, she kicks my ribs. When she thinks I have missed the point about her being hungry, she sucks on my neck, and then clamps down with her two pearly whites. On the flip side, when I want her to close her eyes? She laughs. I can't win with any of them, I guess.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Happy Nowruz..Aide shoma mobarak!

Today is the first day of the Persian New Year, and I nearly missed it, thanks to the current level of bedlam surrounding me. Nowruz, is translated as new day and it is the Persian New Year. This year, I have not set the Haft Seen, or the seven S's. It is a table set with apples for beauty, garlic for medicinal properties, vinegar for patience, wheat which is symbolic of the 'rebirth' of the new year, wheat pudding for prosperity, senjed which is a dried fruit symbolic of love, and sumac for the sunrise. As you may have guessed, all of the items begin in Farsi with the letter 'seen.' Also we color eggs for fertility (might stop doing that one) and include them along with goldfish for life, a mirror for clear truth, and coins...because *we* at least could stand more wealth. Other common items found are flowers, candles, and the Koran.

The Persian New Year is a very old holiday, predating Islam, and having roots in the Zoroastrian religion of ancient Persia. The roots of Jewish Purim are thought to be in Nowruz. It is also, the first day of Spring. The celebration will go on until Sizdah Bedar, which means finishing the 13th day. On Sizdah Bedar, a picnic lunch is the means of celebration, and the picnics are usually held near bodies of water, so that the children can throw the wheat they've grown for the Haft Seen, into the water. This is my favorite ritual. The Sabzeh (wheat sprouts) is thrown out, because it is supposed to have absorbed the family's bad luck for the new year. A 'throw your troubles away' gesture. If you don't throw yours away, you are keeping your ill fate, and, if you touch another family's Sabzeh, you are inheriting their problems via osmosis. I am not a terribly superstitious person, but, I think I am going to adhere pretty closely to the rules this year.

I still have nearly two weeks, I'll pull it all together by then and let the children have some fun. I'll also commit to a week of Persian baking, which includes the original gluten free cookie recipe, Nan-e Berenji or rice cookies, and Nan-e Nokhochi or chick pea cookies. Zulbia and Bamieh which are fried dough coated in a honey and rose water syrup...my personal favorite, and while not part of a traditional Nowruz, I only do this once a year.

So, wish me luck attempting all of this without a range to cook on, will you?

Watch me try to throw a silver lining on this load of crap

The current statistics are as follows...

Hercules, sick since Thursday 2 a.m., running a fever, which is currently 99.5, not medicated.
The Little Lady, running a fever since Thursday before lunch, It is currently 101, and not medicated because she spit up the ibuprofen, which may have been a product of her protestation, as opposed to her actual sickness.
The Baby Girl, started running a fever during the night. Not sure what her temp is, I got 99.5 when I tried to take it in her sleep. I suspect it is higher than that, I'll know for sure when she wakes up.

My truck won't start. The stove is still broken.

So...I am stuck at home with three sick babies, without transportation, or a way to prepare their meals. May I add that the only remaining charger for my cell phone is my car charger? No, because it is overkill you say? Fine. I'll leave that out.

I am too tired to cry. If I had even the slightest smidgen of energy, I would likely give in to uncontrollable sobs. Finally...something good that comes out of sleep deprivation!

Thursday, March 18, 2010

A quick update

Around two this morning H woke up with a fever. No other symptoms, just a fever. TLL joined him in having a fever today. Again, no symptoms, just a fever. I find plain fevers really, really freaky. I am holding out to see what tomorrow morning brings, but, my anxiety level is hovering around 'batshit crazy.'

JB and LB are spending this weekend at my aunt's house. I think it is because I'm worried about the little ones, but, I am feeling really unhappy that they won't be here. Again, lots of worried feelings and throat blocking anxiety attacks.

My back is still killing me. This makes...a week now??? Ugh.

It is on a week like this one, that I really miss having a husband 'in house' to help diffuse the stress and anxiety. Possible broken bones, weird frightening fevers, general malaise, and a broken stove...are more than I would like to deal with solo.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Short, not sweet

My stove is broken. The landlord hung up on my husband (who is also his brother!!!) when he called to tell him about it. I think that means I'm royally screwed. I spent three hours boiling bottles in the microwave today. I also fixed our last meal in stock, that I won't need a stove in order to cook, for tonight's dinner.

I am pretty bummed about life in general.

The end.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Gratitude with attitude

Think Tank Momma

It is time for Think Tank Momma's Gratitude With Attitude. I'm full of attitude this week, and running a little short on the gratitude, but, I'm going to give it a try. If you would like to play too, swing by Think Tank Momma's site, grab her code, add your link to her Mr. Linky...it is that simple.


Dear Times Commenting Cunts, non gender specific in this instance,

Thank you for being judgmental, sanctimonious, pompous asses in your comments about Mommy Bloggers. You reminded me why I love mommies who blog, and why I'm proud to be one.


Feeling a bit of envy this morning...telling you to go suck something, would make me feel better than the lame 'You can kiss my ass,' that I'm having to settle for here


Dear Daylight Savings Time,

I already pulled the 'c' word out for the Times people, you dodged a bullet on this one, because I don't have anything left in my arsenal. I would like to thank you for screwing me out of one, of my TWO hours, of nightly rest.

I am a completely exhausted waste of a human being (according to the Times folks, that would be everyday) and it is [almost] all your fault.

I know that you and Exhaustion have some insider trading shit going on. I'm aware of your treachery, alas, I'm too tired to do a frigging thing about it.


The toothpicks are starting to make my eyelids bleed a little


Dear Hubby,

When I called you scared and worried because I thought H had broken his finger? Do you remember why I hung up on you? It was because you busted out with, "I don't f*#king want to hear this shit!"

I bust my ass every single day to give you a chance at the career you always wanted. I do it 100% alone. I hardly ever complain to you (that's what my blog is for) and your attitude sucks when I need you to provide just a tiny bit of moral support.

Do you remember what you did for me when I was working on my career? You complained to every relative that I have. You threw me under the bus to your friends. You made my life a living hell. You fought with me. You let me know every day how much you resented me for working. Ultimately, you made it impossible for me to keep a job that I loved and excelled at. Not once before today, have I called you on this. I have secretly been glad for the opportunity to be a full time mother to our children. I have THE hardest job in the world, but I love doing it.

Today however, I want you to understand what I lost when I gave up my career. When I was working, I looked at facts and figures each day. Everyday, I looked at reports comparing this quarter's progress to last quarter's progress. I knew what I had to achieve to make EBITA. Everything was spelled out for me. I had TANGIBLE proof that I was good at my job.

As a SAHM, there isn't 'tangible' proof of anything. I have to find my bonus in hearing my son scream, "I hate you," and slam a door in my face. My crunch time isn't before the corporate bigwigs arrive, it is when the babies are woken up late at night, and then won't go back down until four in the morning. Getting the school children up when I am too dizzy with sleep deprivation to walk? That is my new crunch time.

I gave up my friends. When you left, I ceased to have time to talk to them on the phone any longer. I could never run out and meet them for lunch. Even when you came home, there was pressure to spend all of that time with you. That was to the exclusion of everyone else in my life. I took all of this in stride. I have never complained...until today.

Today, I want you to know what our reality is. We went down to Miami together. We calculated how much it would cost to live there. We decided *together* that we couldn't afford it on the salary they were offering you. *Still* you took that job, even though we had decided that you would not. Again, I have never called you on this. You were following your heart and realizing your dreams. Who was I to stand in your way?

To make it all work, the children and I stayed here, and you left to start your new job. We knew when you left that we couldn't afford to live together in Miami, not unless we were willing to sacrifice our children's schooling and safety. So, I persevered. First on my own with five children, now on my own with six.

Now, you want to ask why there isn't extra money? The answer that you don't want to believe is, because there never was. We knew from the get-go that this job was going to try us in ways that we hadn't been tried in a long while. We are feeding and raising six children. They are our lives, they are what push us to try harder and be better...don't ever forget, that without them, we would have been so much less than we are now.

The goal was to finish the project you were assigned to...three years long...and then transfer back to us. Of course, through no fault of yours, or even my own, that project was delayed in starting for 18 months. Now it has been over a year and a half that we have been apart, and the finish line is still 3 years away. By the time you come home, the newborn you hardly know will be in preschool. It is such a long time.

I don't mean to complain. I don't try to make you feel bad. I want you to respect what the children and I have sacrificed for you. I want you to know that we deserve compassion. You can't give of yourself everyday like you used to, but, that isn't any reason to deny us empathy and love.

Each day that passes with you gone is like a mountain that I know I can't climb. Everyday I make it over that mountain, carrying our very heavy load on my shoulders alone. Each night when I fall exhausted to sleep, I marvel that I made it through the day. No matter how many times I do it, I still wake up to that same feeling of dread. You could alleviate so much of that for me by just being kind.

Now, is that really too much to ask?


I didn't f*#king ask for this shit!

Monday, March 15, 2010

What is mommy blogging to me?

I blog because my children are my life. I give them everything that I have to give most days. I don't usually have much left for my friends, or even my extended family. Perhaps I should expect that, as the mother of six children, especially one whose husband lives and works several hours away from us. Blogging allows me to forge friendships, bonds, or just to socialize...but it allows me to do it at my own pace. When I am too tired to write a blog post at the end of the day, I don't. When there are IRL people who are counting on me, I run the risk of letting them down, because there isn't enough of me to give at this point in my life. I'm just too busy.

Blogging isn't just a matter of convenience though. Blogging is a benchmark for me. Writing used to be a hobby. I would write because I loved it. I haven't done that for many years. Life got in the way. I don't aspire to be a great writer, just a writer who isn't bored by her own words, or disappointed by how poorly she expresses herself these days. Blogging forces me to read what I write. It is the drill sergeant in the background calling for me to pull it together, and be all that I can be. One day, I will have time to go back to my roots, tighten my boot straps and really try in earnest. Until then, I have this blog...to remind me that it is better to write something, than nothing at all.

What kind of people have I met through blogging? Wonderful people. I've met supportive people, who are salve to my soul on days when the stress of my life is such, that I can feel myself buckling under the pressure. I've met funny bloggers, who make me smile. A few of them can even make me laugh out loud. I've met other mothers with big families. I'm afraid that I don't know anyone IRL with five or more children of their own. Let me tell you, Michelle Duggar is a hard act to follow, and I am very glad that she isn't my only inspiration. For that, who do I have to thank? Mommy Bloggers.

Blogging gives me a venue to channel my stress and frustration. It gives me a place to record the milestones that I would never write in a baby book. It gives me a way to share the things that fascinate, and alternately, those that frustrate me. Living apart from my husband makes me feel very alone in this parenting business. Blogging helps me conquer that. My friends in BloggyLand can't walk a fussy baby for me at three in the morning, but, they do stop by to say hello, when they are walking their own babies in the wee hours...and sometimes, that is just what I need.

I am a Mommy Blogger. I don't seek fame or fortune from this (good thing, right?) anymore than I do from being a mother. Just like being a mother though, I derive happiness from it. How can that be wrong? Being a mother is the most important thing that I will ever do in my life. These children are my opus. Why should chronicling my life as a mom, be the recipient of such derision?*

What derision? I should have explained first...go see Suburban Correspondent, she has the links to the articles that have me so annoyed, posted. Then, tell me why *you* blog. That is, if you still want to, after reading the article and some of those comments...ouch!

Friday, March 12, 2010

Evil laughs

My oldest child is a smart ass. It is true. I was reminded of one of his 'funniest' moments today when I was reading another blog talking about cats. It involved my big, black truck. I loved that truck. L-O-V-E-D it. It had a black exterior and black upholstery. It was impractical as hell for Florida. But, it was redneck love at first sight.

My husband and I walked the dealership when we bought that truck. We test drove a Taurus that I hated. The first car we had purchased together was a Contour, and the Taurus was exactly like it. I was grumpy. Then we test drove a new Crown Victoria. I would hands down have bought that car if the decision had been mine. My husband vetoed it. He had hated the Crown Vic that was mine, which we were replacing. He rubbed up against every F150 on the lot. I gave him dirty looks and shot him down. I lusted after every SeniorCitizenMobile there. The Lincoln Town Car made me purr.

Then we spotted it. The big, black truck. It wasn't a Ford Ranger. So, what was it? A Dodge Dakota. Windows tinted black, black sprayed-in liner, black upholstery, gleaming black body. I knew I was in trouble when I began to salivate. I consented to a test drive. It's V8 made me grin. The 4 wheel drive made me stupid happy. I. Had. To. Have. That. Truck.

We bought it, and I refused to let my husband drive it....um, ever? I even drove myself to, and then home from the hospital when H was born in that truck. My. Truck.

Anyhoo...we had a lot of cats. We lived out in the country and I am a cat colony kind of girl. Cat fur frequently flew off my clothes to nestle in the lush interior of my Baby. Once, David, one of my toms, got locked in the car for a few hours before he realized he was out there. My beautiful truck got furry.

I took my truck to be detailed. The guy who brought the truck around to me when my Baby was finished said, "Lady, you must have a lot of cats. There was cat fur all over this truck."

My son, who was 8, maybe 9 at the time, didn't miss a beat, "Oh, no Sir! We don't have any cats. Sometimes though, when my mom catches them, she lets them ride in her truck when she takes them to the nice lady who owns the Vietnamese* restaurant down the street."


*A family friend was in Vietnam for business, when he returned he told BB an elaborate story about being served cat while he was there. I have *no* idea if the story was true, because I really didn't want to know, but, my son has never forgotten it. That was where he got the inspiration for the Vietnamese restaurant.

One thing I learned that day...never try to tell a stranger that an innocent, wide-eyed child is capable of such deception. They won't believe you and you'll end up feeling worse than if you had just let it go.

The second thing I learned that day was that my son is partly EEVILL (think Mermaid Man from Spongebob saying that) and that he gets it...from me.

I am not a merry maid, in fact, I am not merry

So...yesterday was shopping day and now you all know what I mean when I say that. I'm still tired this morning. That feeling of exhaustion is aided and abetted by The Little Lady, who *will not* sleep through the night. I have been using melatonin as a sleep aid, which is met by marginal, but not unappreciated improvement. Now I only have to get up with her 2-3 times instead of 3-4 times. I yearn for 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep.

My husband will not be home at the end of the month. Hopefully, he will swing by for a long weekend in April or May. Yes, really. My first instinct is to cry. I'm trying not to do that. Horribly, I have to admit that they wouldn't be tears of anguish because I miss Hubby, but, rather tears of frustration that I won't be getting a break. I do believe that I have had this married, single mother gig too long now. I am far too used to it. As an aside, WHATTHEBLOODYHELLWASOCTOMOMTHINKING????WHYWOULDANYONEWANTTODOTHISALONE????

My children haven't bothered doing their chores the last few days. FCATs and all that. My house is wrecked...but, so am I. What to do? What. To. Do.

Sleeping in my pretzel position in order to accommodate all the children who usually sleep in my bed, migrate there after the lights go out, and dogs who sleep there, is causing my back to seize up and spasm. This is not a welcome happening. It will certainly not help with the massive amounts of housework that I need to do.

My 20 month old daughter has been just about unbearable the last few days. She has pink eye now, so I am giving her the benefit of the doubt. Holding her 24/7 is keeping me from doing much of what is on my to-do list. Come to think of it, it isn't doing much for my back either.

I need to get off the computer now, so that my 3 year old can indulge his Playhouse Disney online passion. Or. Else.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

In reference to my last post...

In reference to my last post...

I will unequivocally state that it is abhorrent and terrible that an adult would have any type of sexually motivated interaction (kissing, petting, worse) with a teen, 'consensual' or not.

I will also say that I don't think that even a sin as egregious as that one, is unforgivable. I think that people can screw up, even that badly, and not be a waste of a human being. Not in all instances, but, I think there are indeed some.

I will give you an example. I was giving a rather charged opinion of a teacher who had a relationship with a student, and my husband stopped me. "I agree," he said, "a teacher has a sacred bond with a student that shouldn't be violated." Then he said something that I had already known, but, repeated in this context, sounded foreign. "My mother was 12 when she married my uncle. She was 14, when she married my father after he died. My father was probably around 50 when they married. My oldest sister wasn't 18 when she married. Half of my brothers' wives weren't 18 when they married. Not to even speculate on previous generations, but, my cousin's father was 94 when he was born...I'm guessing his mother wasn't. Does that mean that I come from a long lineage of victimized women and rapists?"

No, I don't think that it does.

While each country draws a legal line for what is, and is not acceptable...is that line so finite morally? I don't think it can be.

Don't get me wrong...if someone puts their hands on my daughter, I'm going to use them to rip out their heart. BUT, it gives me food for thought.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

"Hi, I met your father this morning..."

"Then, this afternoon, I found out he is a registered sexual offender."

So...that's the conversation I had with my neighbor. Fun, right? Y'all are jealous, huh?

I had tapped on my neighbor's door to ask if I could carry a garage sale, Little Tike type of kid's tree house through his backyard. His father answered the door, and then his parents told me that they were just visiting, and weren't sure where the keys might be, so would I please come back and ask their son, my neighbor.

When my neighbor returned, he not only agreed, but, he helped me carry it. My feel for him is that he is a nice guy. I was grateful. What can I say? I like him. He always offers to help me carry heavy groceries, etc. By all counts, a good neighbor.

Then another neighbor dropped by, and another, and another. "Have you met John Smith's parents?" I readily said yes and that they seemed like nice people. "Did you know that his father is a registered sexual offender? The website says he is living here now."

So, um...what do you say to that? I went with, "Thanks for telling me."

I thought long and hard about what I wanted to do. Pull my kids inside. Add a lock to the door. Buy thicker drapes. Move. Finally, I decided to calm down and go with just talking to my neighbor. I don't believe in talking about people behind their backs, and because he struck me as the kind of guy who would have knocked on my door and said, "My parents are coming to visit for awhile, and there is something you should know..." When I talked to my neighbor, he acted like I had lost my mind. I wondered if he knew? He had to know, right?

Then a knock on my door. My neighbor was back, with an explanation. His father had "stepped out of line" with a 16 year old he was counseling. He lost his job, his retirement, respect and had now lived with the consequences of his actions, for the past 15 years. He apologized for not telling me earlier, but, that he hadn't known that it was permanently linked to his father's record.

I feel better. I asked for permission to repeat what he had shared with me, and he gave it to me, he also suggested that I give anyone who would feel better talking to him about it, one of his business cards, and to tell them, to feel free to contact him. I respect that. I respect him.

I have also now been shunned as 'the irresponsible mom' because nobody else is interested in details. They are all in the 'high alert' phase, where they are acting like our street is a ticking time bomb, waiting to go off and claim their children.

Perhaps I'm wrong, but, my personal policy is to educate my children to use caution with people that they don't know, and even people that they do. I don't suggest taking it to crazy levels, nor do I want them to live in fear. I want them to approach it like driving. Vehicles are dangerous. Necessary, potentially fun, but also lethal in the right circumstances. Have a healthy respect, proceed with caution, don't do anything stupid...and keep on trucking.

Now tell me, does that make me irresponsible? How would you feel? What would you do?

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Gratitude With Attitude (and even some plain gratitude)

Think Tank Momma

Dear FCATs,

You suck.

I hate the way you stress out my kids. I hate the concept of failing a kid because they do badly on ONE test...a year full of straight A's are worth nothing if their FCAT score is bad. I hate the way you stress out the teachers, terrifying them that their schools and classrooms will be bare of supplies if they can't help deliver excellent scores on your crappy tests. I abhor you, stupid FCATs, I wish you would piss off.


The mother of a straight A student who cried themselves to sleep last night, worrying about you!!!


Dear Exhaustion,

I never wanted you as my constant companion. Please go away. I want to laugh. I want to run. I want to play. You haunt me, and you hold me back. I'm tired, but, I am also tired of you dragging me down.

What would it take to banish you? Sleep, you say? Fuck you too, Exhaustion. Fuck you too.


I want out of this relationship


Dear Willpower,

Where the hell have you been? When I need you the most, you abandon me? Has Exhaustion been scaring you off? Tell me!!! Tell me, why won't you come back to me?

Let's be friends again, please? Okay?

Missing you terribly,

Viv in the tight jeans


One letter of gratitude sans attitude...

Dear Teacher,

You and I, we knew each other. Though, it is fair to say not well. Your classes were of one sort, and my pursuits were of another.

There was the summer that you tried to convince me to learn your skills, but, I was too busy working and squirreling money away.

Today I am sad because I heard of your passing. You were loved by so many, and well respected, by still more.

Your presence in my life was just a fleeting kiss, barely a peck. The impact that even such a small brush with your person had, still remains. It was your kindness and compassion that gave me the first flicker of hope that I might not hate my new home as much as I had been.

Thank you. Years later I am here in my 'new' home. Yours was the first friendship that I knew here. I am still grateful.

You will be missed,

Just another pupil


Go see Think Tank Momma to play along!

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Tests and being tested

Today I am going to share my children's Valentine's Day card from my parents with you...

On the right side of the card:

Dear Big Boy, Jelly Bean, Little Boy, Hercules, The Little Lady, and Baby Girl,

Happy Valentines' Day to all of you! We love you and miss you The Whole World.

Hugs and kisses,

Grandma and Grandpa

On the left side of the card:

Because you are the oldest, a very Special, and Happy Valentine's Day to you, Big Boy. We are so proud of everything you do, both at home, and at school.

We love you so much and can't wait to see you!

One of my biggest pet peeves with my parents is the attention they lavish on my oldest child, while making the rest of my children feel left out. It isn't just the Valentine's Day card, it is the invitation for only my oldest to visit, it is the big expensive present for BB's birthday and sending everyone else a dollar...maybe.

Perhaps I am just particularly sensitive to it because my own grandparents had their favorites, and I was not among them. It sucks to feel like you aren't good enough and not know why.

So, tell me...what do you think bloggy world? Do any of you deal with this problem?


I am just now seeing this card as it wasn't even mailed to our house, it was sent to my aunt.


From my daughter's test:

An average 5 year old weighs ____.

a.) 20 lbs.
b.) 40 lbs.
c.) 70 lbs.

She wrote, "D. How should I know what an average 5 year old weighs? My three year old brother is over 50 lbs., I guess the answer is 'B' but in my experience 'C' is more accurate."

Now, I am certain that she wasn't switched at birth. She's mine.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Today all I have for you is...stuff

I made the easiest cookies that I've ever baked tonight. 1 cup of peanut butter, 1 cup of granulated sugar, 1 egg. I threw in a generous handful of dried berries and carob chips. Baked them at 350 for 10-15 minutes. They are yummy, healthy-ish if you aren't counting calories, gluten free, casein free, and I dirtied a grand total of one bowl and one fork.

My seven year old is a freak of nature. He'll eat peanuts by the can, but won't eat anything with peanut butter.

My next door neighbor has decided to have their roof done at the same time as ours. We share a chimney, and it needs to be rebuilt. That will save on the cost. Yay!

I still haven't found anyone without a death wish to take the pine tree down. It is over the house and about to fall. I am stressed about this.

I might be getting new carpet upstairs courtesy of some grandparental love. It will be life changing if it happens. As it is, my 30+ year old carpet is so yuck that I won't put the babies down on it ever.

I ate the rest of the jar of knock-off Nutella with a spoon in the middle of the night. I need help. The eating is getting ridiculous.

My 20 month old is terrorizing my life with ear piercing screams. The kind that actually hurt my ears from across the room. The terrible twos are here...early. Oh goody.

I took a nap today. I stole it. I needed it. I fell asleep sitting up at the computer desk checking math homework.

My kids woke me up to talk to our next door neighbor. Nothing like saying, "Mom is asleep."

It was at least 5 years before my husband saw me in the state I was in when I talked to the neighbor today. I've fallen so, so very far.

Today I counted the articles of clothing I own. That would be 3 pairs of jeans, 1 pair with the ass ripped out and glued back together...so I guess, 4 pairs of jeans. I have 2 sweatshirts. 2 long sleeve shirts. 2 dozen tee shirts that are either organic and earth friendly, sarcastic and utilizing blue language, or from a past employer advertising the bar or the booze served there. 1 pair of capris. 2 pairs of workout pants. 2 workout tops. 2 workout skorts. 1 dress. 3 pairs of shoes. Holy shit. When did I stop trying? I need to have my eyebrows done, get a pedicure, and a manicure because I have three broken nails. Again, when did I stop trying?

There is probably more random crappola, but, I'm too depressed to think of it now.


The 'Proud' is just a name, because my pride has left the building

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Gratitude With Attitude...F bomb dropped liberally

Think Tank Momma

I am playing again in Think Tank Momma's Gratitude With Attitude. Yes I know I missed Tuesday, but, I'm still playing. Read on, and you will find out why.

Dear Old Bitch at Costco,

It totally fucking skeeved me out when you grabbed my infant daughter's hand in yours, which also happened to be holding a kleenex. I felt like an ass and almost forgave you when I thought you were crying, because you kept wiping your eyes with your tissue. Now that my infant daughter is the first of my six children (and only at this point) to come down with pink eye, I want to kick your ass.


Don't touch my kids. And if you're sick? Keep your fucking hands off my kids.


Dear Tree Guy,

You are about to embark on climbing a seriously tall, dead, rotten tree with spikes...AND I FIND OUT THAT YOU LIED ABOUT YOUR LICENSE? Have you recently been diagnosed with a life threatening disease and you figure that falling to your death and suing me would be a better long term safety net for your family's future? I can't think of any other reason to be that fucking stupid.


The "Get the fuck off this property!" bitch.


Dear Clearwire,

The people who work in your technical support department are fucktards. My kid has pink eye. My roof is leaking inside my daughter's closet again. There is a tree about to fall completely on my house. AND YOU PICK NOW TO OUTSOURCE MY LACK OF CONNECTIVITY TO BUMBLEFUCK? Sure, go ahead, take away my email, Facebook, and bloggy life...now I'm ready to climb the frigging tree and put myself out of my misery...fuck you very much.

Also, the reminder that my payment is *almost* a day late? After years of on time payments? Really? Did it occur to you, that if I had been able to access the internet, MY PAYMENT MIGHT HAVE BEEN ON TIME?

At least half of the people who work for you are fucking morons, and the rest of the people, are picking up their slack and dealing with the bad attitude that sheer incompetence brings out in me...those (3 people...maybe?) deserve a bonus.

Also, do the stupid people know they're stupid? It really rankles when the least helpful person in the whole world says, "Thank you for choosing Clearwire. I hope we have exceeded your expectations today." Are they referring to my expectations for the future of mankind?


Oh, sure I would love to upgrade to your phone service package.

Monday, March 1, 2010

I knew it

It's pink eye.

It is always something

I am waiting for the doctor's office to open because Baby Girl's eyes started to goop up on Saturday night. I am dreading talking to them because I am sure they'll want to see her, to give me a script for antibiotic eye ointment. On almost any day of the year that wouldn't be a problem. Today though? I have my truck which is acting up...a problem in itself. I also have two guys in trees over my house getting ready to start cutting them down and several guys up on the roof trying to replace it. I could leave for a bit, except...there is no street access from our backyard, it is strictly through the house. Crap.

What the hell am I gonna do?