A PROUD MOM TO MANY

It is wayyyy...past Monday

2012-01-19T12:50:00.001-08:00

Blame it on the cable guy who was days late to hook up my service, blame it on the son, who insists to switch my desktop to his tv instead of my monitor. Blame it on me being lazy...but, as Tanya reminded me...I am late.

Late with the blog post of course, not late late. Thank goodness!

I have, what feels like a small army of children plotting my downfall. I have the school board, collaborating with those same children, giving out days off like tic tacs. It all seems to be leading to my demise. Really. Not just a bloggy demise, I mean, I've been there...done that...this is more of a blogging resurrection...slightly off track.

Cell phone blogging is not what it is all cracked up to be, so, when I retire to my humble abode for the evening, I shall get a real post up here, and, fix whatever I did wrong on our taxes. I promise.

A new lease on life...and blogging too

2012-01-06T13:27:00.001-08:00

Even though it would be my husband's fondest wish, my New Year's resolution isn't to diet, but, rather to make my way back to the blog world. My little blog, so long abandoned, was such a great outlet for me, and diary of our lives. From the Proud family to all of yours...Happy New Year! And check back with me on Monday for updated pictures, a new post, and our family's latest news. For now I'll leave you all with a picture of the seventh Proud child.

Cold feet...hooray!

2011-06-02T07:19:00.000-07:00

So...today we have cool air! I am reticent to celebrate this in such a public way, but, I think less so than I would be to say the words out loud, lest something might change...again. Excuse me while I go knock on some wood and hunt for a four leaf clover. I have to give a HUGE shout-out to my dearest friend's hubby on this one...thank you D, I am starting to suspect you might be our family's guardian angel. There aren't many family friends that would sweat to death in the Florida heat for hours, put up with my menagerie, and all my curious children in order to save the day, or rather the summer for us. We are very, very grateful. Hercules says you're his hero, and I think I agree.

I also managed to remember yesterday that our cable bill was due, which prompted an 11:00 p.m. trip to Wal-Mart for a pre-paid Visa, as I will *never* give our cable company our credit card information again. I should have blogged about our many disasters with this particular company, but hindsight is always 20/20. Thanks to our near midnight outing, Dora helped us greet another day, which is important because pre-caffeinated life without Dora is sheer hell.

Tomorrow brings us to the weekend, and my kids are nearly vibrating with enthusiasm to spend Saturday night with my dad at the beach. I am hoping that the weather will hold out so that it will be a success. Then, next week is the last week of school! Yay! I love not having to drag my kids out of bed, and not having to be The Enforcer of good hygiene before I have blinked my blurry, tired eyes. Hurry Summer Vacation, this mommy is ready!

Of birds and babies

2011-06-01T05:38:00.000-07:00

The Proud family has a new project. We just took in two very needy birds. These birds are sweet and loving, but, in terrible physical shape. It took us an hour and a half of hosing and scrubbing (with some of the best cage cleaner money can buy) to restore their once beautiful cage to just acceptable. To really restore the cage, we'll need to borrow a pressure washer. The birds themselves are underweight and have serious stress plucking issues from being separated from their beloved human, who is no longer healthy enough to care for them. They are such a sad pair, but, as summer vacation is right around the corner, and since both Hubby and I are home during the day, we hope to be able to help them recuperate quickly.

Baby Z is still fighting his little cold, but, I think we are nearing the end of it now. He seems to have an aggravating post nasal drip thing going on, but, his tiny little nose is finally clear. He is sleeping three and four hour stretches now and eating a little bit better, and he sure is the cutest thing I've seen in a while.

Our air conditioning is ever so NOT working. We had it fixed right after we brought Baby Z home (who will be the big two weeks today) and we had one blissful day of cool, before it started blowing hot air again. Thank goodness for the window unit in the bird room, which I leave on high all day long and keep the French doors open so that the downstairs at least cools. Florida sans air conditioning is just not fun. We are eating lots of 'easy' meals as a result. Far better to microwave some BBQ beef and slap it on a hamburger bun, than to boil ANYTHING. I would tell you guys what we have spent so far on our non-working a/c, but, then we would all cry. Instead I'll tell you what I'm spending on the termites that have invaded the master bathroom, not really. I mean that I won't really tell you, but, we REALLY do have termites up there.

So, last night I sat outside with some of the neighbors. Tell me, would any of you, regardless of how serious your political convictions might be, call someone 'stupid' just because their voter registration card reads differently than yours? Or, perhaps if you would, please tell me if you would ask, "How much of my tax money are you collecting every year because all you know how to do is pop kids out of your f#*king tw*t, to make a living?" Because, wow...I would never be such a douche bag, though clearly at least one of my neighbors would. And, THAT is what I get for trying to be social and play nicely with others.

In other news, JB graduates to Middle School next week. She is so excited, she is practically glowing. My dad will be here to help celebrate and attend the ceremony. He will also get to meet Baby Z, which we have decided will be a surprise. Yep. Coward, thy name is Viv.

Baby Z

2011-05-26T07:01:00.000-07:00

A week ago yesterday, at exactly 4:00p.m. (too late to get any lunch at the hospital, in case you were wondering) Baby Z joined our family. All 20.5 inches and 7 pounds and 15.9 ounces of him. (That's right, Team Boy just got the tie breaker.) My husband was home with our older babies, BUT, my fabulous and beloved midwife delivered Baby Z, so I didn't really feel alone. I am at least 99.9% certain that my husband had a harder time taking care of our youngest three solo, than I did giving birth...really.

We left the hospital the next day because you may recall how much I hate hospitals. I couldn't get out of there soon enough. Knowing how I am, my doctor wasn't late with the discharge papers for his 24 hour birthday, and the pediatrician wasn't late calling in discharge orders for Baby Z. We stopped on the way home from the hospital to pick up Baby Girl's birthday cake, because it was Baby Girl's second birthday, and that just seems to be the way we roll.

The last week has been an utter blur of bottles, diapers, sleep deprivation, resulting grumpiness from babies and and a certain Daddy, and a cold that just will not leave Baby Z alone. For this cold, I thank the woman who came and did his hearing screening, for coughing, sneezing, and wheezing all over my baby...and who to boot, had the worst hygiene. I don't mean she smelled, but, washing your hands without soap, when you're sick, before you touch a newborn...bad form, and so is touching his pacifier, constantly touching the face mask I asked you to put on, rubbing your eyes...ugh!!! The result is Day 4 of Baby Z's cold, on Day 8 of his life...pretty sucky...especially since it was preventable. (I feel somewhat better about that now, thanks for the vent Bloggy Pals.) The pediatrician wasn't horribly concerned with his cold because it, thankfully, isn't in his chest, however, it is turning me into a world class basket case.

The kids are doing better with The new baby than I expected. BB completely ignores him, but, he has been kinder and more considerate to me, which means that I know deep down he cares. JB is the consummate little Mama. She would be quite happy to steal him away from Hubby and me and never let us touch him again...until he grows old enough to mess with her things. LB is thrilled that there are now more boys than girls, he feels empowered, and as a result, he feels very affectionate toward his little tie-breaking brother. Hercules is a champ, he can be a difficult child, but, he is a fabulous big brother. TLL is interested in him, and worries when he cries. BG is warming up, though her initial reaction was very much 'return to sender.' The dogs are a touch miffed that I dare do anything that doesn't revolve around them, and a couple of my birds are making it clear (with their beaks) that they are displeased with the disturbance in the force...but, overall, the transition to being a family of nine, has been smooth.

Hubby's doctor called this morning and offered him an appointment this afternoon to discuss blood work results. As Hubby has had two heart attacks in the past, stuff like this worries me to no end. My tummy is now churning, and will continue to do so until I hear some type of, "all is well," or "everything should be fine, we're just going to start you on___," so, may time fly by until 2:00...no bad news...no bad news...no bad news...please. "Hello again Panic Attacks, we were never exactly friends, so pardon my lack of enthusiasm over seeing you again..."

On this note, I'll leave you, hopefully, I'll get a true post up here before too long, instead of another 'newsletter.'

Tomorrow

2011-05-17T17:03:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow, we will report to the hospital at 7:00 a.m. for me to be induced. This was a sucky experience that I already own from my oldest three children, and I am hoping that tomorrow will be different, at the very least, because we may not have someone for our youngest three, which will mean that Hubby will need to be home with them, and I'll be alone.

It's time. I feel like hell. So...if I have to choose between being alone or my status quo...alone it will be.

Wish us luck!

Confession is good for the soul they say

2011-05-12T05:46:00.000-07:00

After keeping a secret for a rather long time, I am noticing that while we no longer have any reason for maintaining the secrecy, we find ourselves doing so for the simplicity of our lives. So, what better way to stop such a trend, than to tell all (any) of my bloggy pals who might still be reading what our secret is?

We are having our seventh child, due May 19, which if it sparks in your memory for some crazy reason, it will be BG's second birthday. This information has been "top secret" classified to all those who didn't actually have the 'need to know' until...well, until now. The first reason we chose to keep this to ourselves is simple, after BG was born, I became extremely ill, and we were not completely (at all, in my case) sure that we could bring ourselves to answer 'those' questions, if things did not go well this time because of residual complications. The second is because my relatives are rather loathe to accept the size of our family. On top of everything else that has been going on, I am indeed selfish enough not to want to hear the, "Jeez Viv! Is this really what you need right now? You have six kids already, enough is enough." This has been a standard line ever since our second child was born, in which only the number has changed. I. Really. Hate. Deplore. Despise. Hearing. This.

I am going to put a little (okay, quite a lot) of blind faith in someone who has yet to let me down, my husband, and my children, that we can do this. In what seems like the bleakest moment in our lives, that there is a reason for such a miracle, and that we are indeed well and truly blessed. I am also going to be just selfish enough not to let my extended family bring me down. I am going to be resilient enough to let the negativity that will be coming my way shortly, not reach my heart. I'm going to be just hard-headed enough to believe that we can do this. The easiest part of all, will be to have enough love to encompass one more. So, blog world, do me a favor, say a little prayer for us, think some positive thoughts and send them our way, or just smile thinking of teeny, tiny baby fingers...because I have a feeling that I'll be needing all the good karma and love that you all can send my way.

A quick post before my coffee*

2011-04-07T03:15:00.000-07:00

*subtle warning, will most likely ramble

Does anyone have any idea how much rawhide it is safe for a dog to consume at one time? Whatever the answer, I'm pretty sure my Lily has exceeded that amount in the last few minutes. On the nights when Lily chooses to sleep with the big kids, it is usually a good time to give my small dogs a chewie. Except, this morning, before she usually wakes up, or even considers allowing herself to be dragged out of bed to empty her bladder, the sound of smaller, inferior animals chewing and licking drove her crazy. She accomplished something that no human has done before, she woke my eldest child before three alarm clocks, two siblings, and an irate mother attempted to do so...and he let her come downstairs and torture me for chewies. She was very diplomatic in asking. "I'll bark, and I'll bark until you give me chewies...but, think quick, because I'll wake your babies up before you can say...coffee."

The update on the job front isn't much. The best lead my husband has had in a rather long time, boils down to nearly 200 applicants for 2 open positions. Pretty much all the positions he has been applying for come down to roughly this same scenario. The economy has brought construction to a screeching halt, and the Civil Engineering field as a result, has been hit really, really hard. Nevertheless, I'm hoping.

The kids have state standardized testing next week. I have three children participating this year. I have one child who has been made to eat, sleep, and breathe the FCAT since before Spring Break. My oldest daughter's teacher is cracking under the pressure. I know this because my daughter comes home everyday on the verge of tears, and at the pace her teacher is going, her kids will be exhausted before they even sit down to take the test. I mention this because it really does bother me, and because she actually drew a 'mad face' on a 'C' my daughter got on a practice test. Grrr.

My grandmother had a stroke in February. It was a real jolt to the entire family. Not only has my grandmother always been the rock that heads the family, but, it brought to light new concerns for my grandfather's care, as he has Alzheimer's. I am mostly a 'hands off' person when it comes to my family. The family is close in their own way, and I have always tended to be on the fringes of what is otherwise a close knit clan. The events of this week have shocked and disappointed me. Decisions were made, that I feel were poor, and indeed detrimental to his health. So, I spoke up. Guess I wasn't supposed to do that. It has made me even less popular. It doesn't change that fact that I think the people closest to the situation are exhausted to the point that they are making choices that are just plain bad. I feel like I'm watching a house burn to the ground, because someone forgot to put out a small spark, with a fire extinguisher they just couldn't see through their panic.

I've been up since the wee, wee hours of the morning when Hubby sent our two year old down to sleep on the sofa with me. I sleep downstairs for multiple reasons. The first is because no matter where our little ones start the might, they wind up in our bed. I am no contortionist and my back was breaking from trying to accommodate their sideways sleeping bodies. I also wake up early. Hubby gets up around lunch time. If I sleep in my bed, I disturb him when I get up with the chickens, or in my case, parrots, and I need to be up in order to get the big kids off to school, to let the dogs out, and feed the birds. *I'm so tired...and it is only 7:20...it's gonna be a long day!*

Dan Quayle grew up to be the Vice President...maybe there is hope yet

2011-03-17T07:50:00.000-07:00

I have a pretty strict policy about helping my children with their school projects. First rule of thumb is don't ask me at the last minute. The second is not to expect me to do it for you. As long as all my children want, is someone to check their spelling, grammar, typing, or even their content...all they need to do is ask nicely, and *not* the night before their project, that has been assigned for three months, is due. This seems to be a relatively simple policy on my part. I would go so far as to say that it is insane that I have to spell it out, because it is common sense.

I sent my child to school today with his Geography Fair project on the little known country of 'Whales.' There was a moment, however brief when I picked his printed work up from the copy store, and I thought about whipping out my phone, correcting his spelling and adding some type of substantial content. I decided against it. It was purely self serving in my desire to have him off restriction for his grades, so that he can resume playing with friends and not fester under my skin like a really horrible poison ivy rash. Alas, I managed to resist temptation.

So...what are the chances of him pulling off a 'B' with the name of his country spelled wrong, do you all think?

Ranting...

2011-03-08T05:56:00.000-08:00

Hubby is home, so routines have changed here at the Proud house. Hubby likes to stay up late and hang out watching re-runs of 'Spartacus, Gods of the Arena' and the wee little ones are sleep resistant because they want to hang out with him. (About the Spartacus thing, it's a freaking soap opera for men...what makes it so special, the fact that there is sex, blood, and gore...or??? I'm drawing a blank on this. In fact, I'm beginning to think Lucy Lawless is some kind of witch. 'Xena, Warrior Princess' might have actually sucked worse, and he frickin' loved that one too.) *I* have to be up at the ass crack of dawn to get the big kids off to school, so *I* must go to bed before three in the morning. Hubby usually rises around noon, and the wee little ones usually rise between ten and eleven. I hate, deplore, loathe this schedule. I need sleep. I need sleep while the moon is out. Hubby, does not. Apparently, my wee little ones have inherited this genetic abomination.

The solution to the current dilemma, which is how to get the babies on a normal schedule that doesn't make me want to cry, is, in Hubby's opinion, for me to put the babies to sleep despite the television blaring CNN while he simultaneously listens to Persian music YouTube, so he can watch 'Spartacus' without tiring himself out first. Then I'll get up at the ass crack of dawn with the older kids. Simple, right? NO! Not simple. This idea is bullshit.

My solution is...for Hubby and myself to lay down with the little ones until they fall asleep, and then, if he...or we, wish to get back up for some child free quiet time, so be it. The babies will wake at a normal hour, I won't be exhausted and grumpy every morning, and he can have Lucy all to himself. I figure if the little ones are up and running, playing, and noise making, Hubby will convert to this schedule sooner rather than later, and then...I won't have to wait until two in the afternoon to vacuum.

The current, "let's meet in the middle" solution is for me to sleep on the sofa, falling into an exhausted sleep somewhere between ten and midnight, and him half-heartedly try to put any still awake babies to bed on his own, until they wake me back up with their crying. Then I take over, he retires to his Warrior Princess, Roman sex goddess, or what-the-hell-ever, and HE is happy.

Good thing I have all this help around here these days. Can you imagine if I had all this financial stress AND parenting became ten fold harder? Sheesh. I would really be a tired shell of a human being then, huh?

And the Oscar goes to...my Hubby

2011-02-05T06:38:00.000-08:00

My husband informed me at 5:30 this miserable, rainy, and sleep deprived morning that he has come down with the flu. What he really meant was that after taking care of the kids for the last two days while I was deathly ill, now that the little ones are running fevers...he's outta here. Why am I so sure he's faking? Well, after sporting temps of 103 degrees plus, and comforting babies with temps of 103 degrees plus...Hubby's is 98.5 degrees. Suspicious, huh? After having my body ache like it was being carved into little pieces by blunt steak knives, he is stretching out in the bed like a lithe leopard. And, the final piece of evidence I'll offer is my cat's testimony. My cat won't bother you, unless you are sick, and then he holds a vigil by your bedside until you feel well enough to find him some table scraps to make his cat food more palatable. My cat is ignoring Hubby, just like always. He says he's sick? Bullshit. Try lazy on for a better fit.

This is our second Saturday after the move. There is a phenomenal amount of work to be done. I wonder which adult just got chosen in the "Who Got Screwed" lottery? Oh, yeah. Me. ME, me, me. No big deal, I'll stumble around dizzy and on the brink of passing out while climbing ladders and shampooing carpet. Am I a lucky girl or what?

Getting back up on our feet...again

2011-02-01T23:47:00.000-08:00

I know that I have been away from my blog for...forever, but, let me try to catch you guys up.

My husband has been home since September, when he was let go from his job. Things were really, REALLY bleak for a time. For example, it took dear old Uncle Sam 4 months and 2 days to supply us with an SF-50 (those non-federal folk, it is a required form to submit in order to get Unemployment) and so it took us almost 4 and a half months to get our first Unemployment check. With huge thanks to my family, especially my big sis, we survived. Barely.

Then, came the week before Christmas. That week brought an eviction summons from my husband's brother. Let ME tell YOU, that man has nothing on Santa. He gave up on us ever getting Unemployment and acted accordingly. So...Christmas and the month that followed were just hell for us.

How are you guys on miracles? I am reformed into believing. We called a former neighbor who had an empty place on our street. He came by the next day to give us keys. We are now paying *half* the rent we were. We have a bigger place. Brand new carpet, new paint, new stove, new fridge AND working laundry room!!! My dogs and birds have their own room now, the only room with tile, which doubles as my 'office.' Our whole family is overjoyed...and 100% together, something I worried (understatement) about daily.

As for everything else? Well, the job market is terrible here. There is so little road work going on that I am indeed panicky about Hubby getting a new job. But, for today, for now...we have had a miracle happen and we are content knowing that we can keep our heads above water, not comfortably, but, we definitely can. That knowledge is good for me for right now. Very, very good.

With our sudden change in circumstances, we trimmed off all non-essential perks like phones, internet, cable...paper towels. We are back on-line now, which we expect to make the job hunt more effective. It also makes blogging more accessible, and hopefully, my next post will be a more normal variety...maybe we'll talk about my teenager's report card...then again, maybe I'll post about something that doesn't make the little tiny blood vessels in my eyeballs rupture.

If you don't have anything nice to say...

2010-12-10T08:08:00.000-08:00

Hi Guys,

Thanks for all your thoughts and well wishes. You haven't heard from me because I don't have a great deal to say. Unemployment hasn't paid us a dime yet. As a former federal employee, the state won't pay until the federal government furnishes them with my husband's wage statement...which they haven't done yet...it'll be three months on the 16th. That has left us scrambling to put food on the table and keep the lights on. Without my sister, this Christmas would not only be non-existent, it would be spent in the dark. My husband's brother is being more than patient about collecting his rent. The current stress level is mind numbing. To add insult to injury, Toby, my oldest cat, the love of my life, has been missing since Sunday night.

So...how are the kids? They're great! They have adjusted with grace. I know that I (just as you all know this about your own) have the best kids in the world.

Much love to all of you, you are seldom far from my thoughts. I hope that all your holidays will be filled with love, peace, and cheer.

Until the next time,

Viv

Raining...pouring

2010-10-19T14:03:00.001-07:00

Our family joined the ranks of those faced with unemployment last month. I've been feeling a bit blue as a result. Starting to worry 24/7 about just about everything. Can't help but think, that I am ready to catch a break.

I'll try and get a proper post up here within the next couple of days.

Hey Y'all

2010-09-01T18:24:00.000-07:00

The Proud crew is alive and well. My ISP is upgrading to a 4G network, and my 3G modem is pretty much worthless right now. My contract is up this month, so, soon I'll be back online, one way or the other.

The Summer was eventful, and uneventful, all at the same time. This is the children's second week back at school, so Summer, except for the oppressive heat, is over. BB is in 7th grade now, JB is in 5th, LB in 3rd. I'm tired of homework already, not sure where the kids stand on the subject, but, I'm a hater. I'm still wading my way through their packets of paperwork...perhaps I should have said mountains, and playing Homework Nazi to the children.

This is just a quickie post to let you all know that I'm still here, and hoping to come back to the bloggy world soon. Please drop me a line, or a comment and let me know how you and yours are doing, because I do think about you all.

Until a technological miracle occurs,

Viv

Little Bo Peep lost her sheep...and Viv found them

2010-07-19T15:47:00.000-07:00

My vacation is taking care of my six kids, my flock of (20) birds, our six guinea pigs, four hamsters, and a total of fifteen dogs, seven cats, Boss Lady's flock of 11 birds, two bunnies, a bearded dragon, and their hamster. (They have two snakes too, which blessedly, have already eaten.) I am totally in my element here, I only wish that my children were far, far away from my element. This work-cation is really for them though. They have been swimming in the pool, running after dogs, playing on the swings, jumping on the trampoline, having picnics in the shade under the trees, and feeding crickets to the bearded dragons.

*I* have been cleaning bird cages, serving meals to the menagerie, and sweeping the floors six times a day. I keep hoping to have the energy left after the kids go to sleep to take advantage of the pool myself...thus far...not so much. I have been snuggling sweet dogs, turning a rescued puppy mill dog into a tail wagging, people jumping, pseudo-extrovert...which her family sees all the time, I am sure, but it has been rewarding to have her come out of her shell with me.

Entertaining the masses today (okay fine, just my aunt, and neighbor's family as he is doing some work on the property out here) and keeping the kids from drowning felt like a full time occupation today. I think that tonight I'll go to bed early (not too early, last let out for the dogs is midnight) and bring my coffee maker over here in the morning. I am in need of caffeine. This is day two without coffee...and you all know, I need my coffee.

In other news, my Lilly has been so flipping awesome with everyone. I'm so proud. My other dogs have been great too. Turns out that the snarling beast my Patty becomes when faced with strangers is actually just a bad case of leash aggression...who knew???!!!

I have a new bird, a quaker named Kiwi. Kiwi came into my life just a couple of days before we left, and he grabbed my heart with an iron fist. He is fifteen years old, and he quickly wrapped me and my favorite Nanday around his beak. Even the kids adore him. I was sobbing yesterday because I missed him so much (I go back everyday to feed and check on our crew with the exception of the dogs who came with) and was really sad to be without him. Today was better, he gave me kisses and accepted my parting gift of people junk food with much enthusiasm. My Nan gave me kisses too, and I miss them terribly, but, I don't feel as badly about leaving them today. It is especially happy that they have each other for company.

Boss Lady has around 5,000 cable channels. Whoot! Gather children, and let Dora work her magic, and have her wicked way with you. I know this a horrible substitute for mind stimulating, mother led, activity. On the plus side, working the remote is like a lesson in computer science.

Okay, well, I am about to put my midgets upstairs in the hope that they will go to sleep. I will slip out to the pool, and hopefully swim off a few of the strawberry milkshake creme oreos that I just ate...with fat free milk of course.

V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N

2010-07-17T20:27:00.000-07:00

Tonight I blog from Boss Lady's home. We are house/dog/bird/etc sitting for her family this week. Tonight, is our first night here, and with the exception of one very headstrong dog who refuses to come in, all is well. This is the first night that I have spent away from my babies by choice in....well, ever. BB and JB are my oldest, and, the only two with me here tonight.

My dogs are here with us, and they are being amazing. They acted like they had been here all their lives, and their dogs acted like they had been reunited with their long lost siblings. Very cool. Very cool, because I was super stressed about it. All four legged animals are at peace.

I am almost in tears missing my birds though. It is really hard to be away from them, I know that my hubby didn't kiss our Nanday good night. My sun conure hates my husband, and the quaker and the green cheek really don't know him. My babies! *sob*

I am less worried about my children with him. They are all pretty vocal at this point, and they will demand things like food and water. He is extremely frustrated because he has to watch the babies tonight...oddly (or perhaps not oddly at all) I am not sympathetic to this.

Okay, well, I will try to blog a bit more frequently now. My home network went down again, and they got it back up and running just shortly before I left home...so...here is hoping that I will be able to access the internet on a regular basis again.

"Oh,no she didn't!!!"

2010-07-08T19:01:00.000-07:00

Lilly, our new dog is a pit bull. Yes, you heard me, a pit bull. She is the epitome of a well adjusted, happy, sweet, playful dog. She is the dog who responds favorably to new people, places, and things. She is the one who will take her walking orders from a tea cup poodle. She is the one who lets my kids use her as a step stool.

I wouldn't trust my chi mix with another person, child, or animal on the planet. She is mean. Not to her own, but to everyone and everything else. Would she bite? You bet! My JRT is far more mellow than my chi, and I trust her implicitly with my family and friends...as long as I'm holding her.

Lilly? I have zero fear that she will be aggressive with another human. Her strength is phenomenal. She will go into a trance with a big old beef knuckle bone in her teeth, until she cracks it with her jaws. At last count, that took seven minutes, and I strongly encourage all to be outside of the projected trajectory. Yet, her heart is gentle and pure.

I have no regrets about her being a part of our lives. It does however upset me when people freak out when they see her. Picking up your kids that are at least 40 feet away from her is going a tad far. Hollering nasty thoughts about my capability as a parent...BECAUSE OF MY DOG, is ludicrous.

Grow up people. Pits are not fighting machines. They *can* be bred that way. They *are* inherently brave. They are muscular, sleek, and awe inspiring. Most pits are lovers. They love their family, they are protective of their homes, and they are sweet, amazing companions. Smart, very, very smart dogs. Pits helped build this land in their role as farm dogs. AND...a pit bull, or any other dog, is more than 100 times less likely to kill a child, than that child's own parents. Really.

If you come to my house and you're afraid of my dog(s) please just ask me to keep them under lock and key while you or your child are here. Chances are, that was my plan anyway. I do buy dog food, so I have no need to try to coerce my animals into eating you or your offspring. Besides, trying new things upsets their digestive systems. So, get over it. Please?

Thanks. *Coming down from my soapbox.*

My Chi is, as are all my dogs, a rescue. Her aggression is limited to other animals and people she doesn't know. We take any and all necessary precautions to keep her and others safe. It is ironic though, that people will bring their children up and want to let them pet her...while she is muzzled...and then, those same people will run away from my APBT, who requires neither muzzle nor gruff word.

Hello...is anyone out there???!!!

2010-06-29T16:36:00.000-07:00

It has been so long since I have blogged that I had to go back and read my own blog to figure out where I left off.

The job was awesome. It was perfect for me, and I think that Boss Lady was happy with what we accomplished. It did teach me that regular 9-5 work is not in my near future. It also taught me that there might be a niche for what I excel at, maybe one day, I can devote some more time to helping carve it.

Hercules broke another television. Yep. Another one. He totaled this one with a plastic hanger. I didn't even cry this time, I guess I am slowly becoming desensitized to calamity and disaster.

We threw our couch out. It was an impulse decision based on the fact that it was broken. Broken or not, I quickly found myself longing for a place to rest my ~~fat ass~~ weary bones. So, I salvaged a sofa and over sized chair from my neighbor's trash. Please picture one adult driving my SUV, a piece of furniture resting partially on the tailgate, a child holding onto the arm from the backseat, and me jogging along behind the vehicle supporting the rest of the furniture. One helluva mental image, right?

The sofa was actually picked out by our new dog, Lilly. She sat on it while it was on the curb for pick-up, and refused to get off. I think she was indicating to me that her new home was missing something. A few jugs of bleach from Costco, and I have 'new' living room furniture. truly, they surprised me with how well they cleaned up, and they are a very lovely off white leather...not even pleather, real leather.

Lilly is a three and a half year old AmStaff. She has decided not to eat my kids, cats, birds, or small neurotic dogs, and thus, she can stay. She is very, very cute. Black with white paws, white chest, and a white splash on the very tip of her tail. I had her informally evaluated by my new friend and sporadic Boss Lady, who gave her the 'thumb up' for being a good girl. Lilly is an alpha, but, defers to my JRT who is THE QUEEN BITCH, and lets my chi act like a big deal. My dogs hate anything with fur, and yet, they have given Lil their acceptance, so, she is now an official Proud pet.

While moving the living room furniture around yesterday, I had a bookcase collapse. It took out three pieces of furniture when it fell, including two fish tanks, the entertainment center, television, and another shelving unit. All but one fish and one snail were salvaged from the wreckage. To save on clean-up, I tried posting a "Mommy's Sushi Bar Is Now Open" sign for the cats, the picky little brats won't eat the stupid fish off the floor...only out of the tank. Apparently, there isn't any sport in scooping them off my tile.

The Proud family is doing okay, but, we have been busy. Now, I need to surf the internet, it has been almost a month since my home network has been working, and I am going through some serious withdrawal. See you on your blogs, I will catch up...just watch me!

Writer's Block...

2010-06-11T18:30:00.000-07:00

...and I'm not even a writer.

There is so very much going on in my life right now. Some of it would make remarkable blog fodder, but, putting it out there doesn't feel right. So, I have been a little stuck for things to talk about. Let me catch you up, at least a little bit.

I found a job. It is just until the end of next week, but, a job it is. It is lovely. As a matter of fact, it is something that I would pay to do, so I feel a little like I'm cheating. I am helping a lady who is quite a bit like me, to organize and rearrange some things around her house. Her family has several dogs, cats, birds, a bunny. They also have a beautiful home, which has such a lovely feeling about it...I think that the feeling is love.

I have been feeling a bit stale about my own home, and I think that the inspiration to have my own home reflect the love I have for my family (though, granted not for the house itself) will come as a result of being exposed to the great karma that her home has. For the first time in a looong while, I had the chance to miss my kids without being actively involved in something that would benefit them, like grocery shopping, and there is a rejuvenating breeze that seemed to blow this afternoon as a result.

In other news, the kids are out of school for the summer, and I am trying to gain the gumption to send my grandmother an email thanking, but, 'no-thanking' her for looking into summer camp for the kids. I really just want to shut down for a time, and with the exception of my little 'job' I fully intend to do just that.

H has been off his gluten free diet because his last round of test results indicated that we could reintroduce it. WHAT A MISTAKE!!! I am already done with this experiment on week 2, and I think that he will be gluten free for...about the next 15 years, or until he moves out, whichever is later. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME KIDS!!! CAUTION! DANGER! JUST SAY NO! (Um, this was a very bad, dumb idea.)

Okay, so I am off to bed. I hope that all of my bloggy pals are well, and I will catch up on your blogs this weekend. Really, I will.

We are having a 'lazy Summer'

2010-06-05T08:20:00.000-07:00

We are coming to the end of another school year. I am so very pleased and happy that the kids will be home, and that we'll be able to avoid alarm clocks and such for the time being. Summer vacation is a vacation from scheduling, at which I am doing quite poorly, at the moment. I think that the lack of sleep from the past two years has finally caught up with me in earnest. Sometimes I just can't wake up. I know I need to, I know I should...and still, the idea of getting out of bed at that moment, seems as impossible a task as taking flight. I'm hoping to recharge me batteries this summer.

Organization is another key component of my plans. We are going to finally have time to sit down and figure out what to keep, what to let go, and where to store it all. The kids might actually be as excited about this prospect as I am. A place for everything...not a novel idea, just not something we've enjoyed for a rather long time now.

Camp is most emphatically *not* part of my plans. I am not going to let the kids enroll in, nor let them be enrolled in anything that requires us to keep a schedule. I actually think the kids might be relieved about this one. Camp is fun, but, alarm clocks are not. Nor, is it fun to get seven people out the door by the time the rooster crows. I just have to remember to stay strong in my convictions when well meaning family try to 'help out.'

So, I say, "Come on Summer! I am longingly waiting for all the relief you bring, at the same time that I am dreading the heat and humidity that we must bear to entertain you." Please, this last week is one of the most difficult to bear...HURRY!!!

A 'real' post should be available tomorrow

2010-05-31T03:45:00.000-07:00

Just a few random gems that I thought I might share...

How do you know that your bird's last family liked dipping into the powder? Because you rush your bird to the vet with it's terrible 'human-like' cold to find that it is merely mimicking snorts of different varieties. After careful consideration, I think that I might prefer a potty mouthed bird...just sayin.'

The same bird tried to remove my husband's arm last night. He sure is pretty (the bird) but, he is a real handful. Of course, immediately after removing a half dollar sized portion of my hubby's arm, he climbed up in my lap to give me kisses. I suspect that this bird likes the ladies.

***************

If your husband bitches non stop about helping? No matter how much help he is providing, you'll wish he stops...post haste.

I mean, this terrible, horrible, exhausting life that he keeps claiming is making him miserable and possibly killing him, is your own.

***************

My step son contacted me via Facebook. My husband encouraged me to ignore the request, I'm glad I didn't. He apologized, and now, I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my chest.

This rather shifts the yin and yang of my world back into the appropriate balance. I love my step son, and I always will. No matter what happened in the past, that simple fact won't change. I will honestly admit that this applies to S alone, I haven't heard anything from N, and I wouldn't want to. While loving, doesn't cover 'liking' or 'trusting' necessarily, none of the above applies to N. My relationship with N was tenuous at best, before this past Fall, it is now completely non existent. I intend to keep it that way. N worked hard for years, at straining what little bond we had. After all that happened, it is broken beyond repair.

***************

My husband is throwing away my tee shirts as I type. Heads might roll.

Where have you been Mrs. Proud?

2010-05-27T07:55:00.000-07:00

This question has been asked of me many times as of late. The truth is that I have been busy. Not busy with my children, well, at least not more so than usual. Not busy with my house...I will still try and visit with you on my non-existent veranda should you pop by unannounced. I've been busy with my birds.

It started pretty innocently, a single parakeet for my son's birthday. Then, in the blink of an eye my husband and I had a whole flock. In truth, I knew that what we had been wanting was a medium sized parrot. Instead, I tried to go the 'easy' route. Smaller birds are less of a commitment, right? That one little parakeet turned into a flock of six in the blink of an eye. Then we added a pair of canaries, and a cockatiel. Still, something wasn't right. So, we brought home a Nanday Conure. (There is a whole blog post on loving and losing a bird here for another day.) "Ahh," I'm surprised you couldn't hear our contented sighs from where you are Internet.

And then, we did something silly. We checked Craigslist one more time for the heck of it. A Sun Conure was listed. So, my husband said, "offer her 25% of the list price." So, we did. AND...she accepted our offer. So, we brought Herbie home to join our flock too. My husband keeps asking him, "Damn you, why do you have to be such a cute looking bird?"

I'm exhausted people. It is a contented exhaustion, but, bringing home these babies has been much like bringing home twins I should think. They wake me up every couple of hours all through the night. They cry constantly if I am attending the other. They both seem to be bonding to me. It looked like our Nanday was going to be a man's bird. Then my husband tried to get him to step up off of me, and got torn a new one. Nan seems to be mine now. Herbie won't step up for anyone. He does shriek until I open his cage so that he can chew holes in my shirts, preen my feathers, and give me kisses. He is very sweet until he sees hands, then he tries to amputate fingers with his beak.

There are all sots of other things going on too. My husband has been home this week. He is sick, and he is also sick and tired. He is about to lose his job. We knew that he had been 'working' on borrowed time. He also knows that he needs to stick with it until he finds another job, or until they dismiss him. If he gets emotional enough to quit, we would lose the unemployment option should we God forbid need it. It is stressful.

I ran my son to school yesterday morning. The truck was out of gas, and our local filling station has but four pumps. There was a pick-up with a trailer blocking the entrance to one pump, and closing access off to two more. I will admit to being grumpy, and pre-caffeinated judgement led me to jump out of my truck and yell, "You're busting my balls for two frigging gas cans? You've gotta be kidding!" So, if you are the dude I yelled at yesterday...I realize that I was not in my best form, and anatomically incorrect to boot. You're still a douche bag though Bud, 'kay?

I'll post some pictures of my new babies later. Thanks for all the emails and stuff asking if we were okay, you guys are great, really great!

The things that make my world go round

2010-05-16T19:09:00.000-07:00

In the crazy, hectic past few weeks, there were a few blog posts that should have been written, that were not. So, today's post will be a collection of 'bloggy shorts.'

***************

"What the hell is leaking?" I asked this question out loud at Costco. I was trying to ascertain what was dripping all over my carefully packed grocery cart and onto the floor. The answer? Pee.

My youngest daughter's diaper had shifted and caused her latest deposit to leak down her legs, into my groceries, down the sides of the milk gallons, and then puddle on the cement floor. Other than the 'gross' factor, there was the 'poorly prepared mother' factor. I was without a change of clothes for Baby Girl...or anyone else for that matter, and I have two babies in diapers and a newly potty trained toddler, so you would think that I would plan better for the inevitable.

We were also in the farthest corner from the restrooms. So, I changed my child's diaper in mid air, while holding her over a gigantic trash can, in the refrigerated foods section. I then mopped up my groceries, child, and the floor as best I could with baby wipes, put the wet skort in my purse (Vera Bradley is very washable) and tried to maintain my composure when the cashier asked if the apple juice was leaking.

***************

"Mom, my ear feels funny!" I've heard my soon to be 8 year old say this approximately 1,000,000 times in the last few weeks. "Does it hurt?" I would ask. He maintained that it did not, and then I would promptly forget about the exchange.

It was an early release day from school, and I had my son, his friend, and the rest of my little ones at the ice cream place. As we stood in line, I was looking for the person who was bringing me two canaries, so I was distracted. "Here Mom," was all I needed to obediently stick my hand out, to receive whatever object LB was about to put in my palm. I glanced down at my hand, I was holding what appeared to be a medium size pebble.

"What is it?" I asked my son.

"I think it is what was bothering me," he said. I frowned and examined it more closely. "It just came out of my ear," he helpfully added. He had caught me off guard, I shrieked and jerked my hand, the 'pebble' went flying. The group of high school girls in front of us also screamed and ducked, so I have to assume that at their age, it is either a 'flocking behavior' response, or that they had been paying greater attention to my son's endeavors that I had been.

I surveyed the other patrons, aside from the group of teenagers, all but the bemused elderly couple behind us, were politely pretending we were invisible, or were oblivious. My son took advantage of my hesitation and began searching. "Stop right there," I ordered.

"But, BUT...I WANTED TO KEEP IT!!!" he sobbed.

***************

I was waiting in the car with LB, it was time to leave to drop the children at school. "What is taking your sister so long? Go find out." I ordered LB.

LB returned to the truck alone. "JB isn't coming to school today," he announced, "we can go ahead and leave." I gave him a suspicious look and went to investigate the matter.

My oldest son was sitting at the counter, "JB's upstairs in the bathroom, she threw up when she was putting on her shoes. I guess she needs to stay home." I returned to LB and without saying much, because I am not very talkative and border on being 'screamy' pre-coffee, kissed him good-bye before he got out of the car at school.

JB spent the day suffering from allergies and a touchy tummy. She was relaxing on the sofa when LB got home. "Your teacher said that you could have worn flip-flops if you had come to school today." I thought very little of the comment, and dismissed it as my son giving my daughter a hard time, or as another funky Spirit Day theme.

I was less dismissive of BFF when she drove by with her mother, "JB! Mrs. B. said you could wear flip-flops if you need to!" I asked my daughter what that meant after they drove away.

"I have no idea Mom. Maybe Mrs. B has me mixed up with A, because A hurt her foot the other day at school?" My daughter shrugged and sneezed the comment off.

"Oh no," LB spoke up, "your teacher isn't confused. I told her that you couldn't come to school today because you couldn't find your shoes." We all stared at him. "Well, that is why JB didn't go to school, right? Because she couldn't find her shoes?"

"No Nimrod," my oldest son chimed in, "she threw up all over her shoes!" My oldest son ignored my death stare at his choice of words. "That's so rich! JB's teacher thinks she was out of school because she doesn't have any shoes!" As his gales of laughter continued, the horror of the scenario was washing over me, apparently my daughter wasn't immune to the implications either.

"Mommy! Please can you home school me starting tomorrow?" Much to her chagrin I denied her request. Today, I found her going through her closet. "I'm going to wear a different pair of shoes each day this week," she said, "just so people will know that I have some."

***************

Jen, over at Diagnosis: Urine asked how I explained the terms in my last post to my children. She wanted to know how I explained lines, blow jobs, penis picture posts, and fuck to my children after our last dinner out on the town. Well Jen, blow jobs are drinks just like Shirley Temples, but, they have alcohol in them, so only adults can say the name. The people at the next table had obviously had too many drinks like Shirley Temples, but with alcohol, because they were being very silly and saying, "lines on the bathroom counter" instead of "lines to get to the bathroom counter" because it is very, very important to wash your hands after you go potty, and especially before you eat. The only time you would *ever* post a picture of your penis, is when you have to send one to your doctor because you weren't careful and got it caught in your zipper, and your doctor needs to know if you need to go to the hospital...and even then, in our house, we just go to the hospital. Finally, 'fucking' is something you do when you drive, or...err...when I drive...apparently, I "fuck douche bags that don't use their turning signals" rather too often.

***************

Coincidentally, when my oldest son was younger (and called a kid on the school playground a douche bag) he asked me when he would be old enough to swear. I told him that he would be old enough to swear when he started driving...as I was pretty darn sure that he had picked up the term from me, around the merge to get from one highway to another.

He has never forgotten me telling him that. In all these years, he hasn't remembered anything I've ever asked him to do the first time around, but, THAT, he not only remembers, but, can list the witnesses to my jackassery. Let this be a lesson to the rest of you...never be flip with your children, in their court of law, verbal agreements are definitely binding!

The Pink Elephant in the room

2010-05-11T20:25:00.001-07:00

I am not by any means a prude. However, in my hope to help a few people out there, who aren't sure what is, or is not, appropriate to talk about in a family restaurant, here is a short list of words even *I* wouldn't utter.

Anything using "fuck." This rule may only be broken if you find an appendage in your food, such as, "What the fuck is this?" as you pull a small hairy paw out of your soup.
"Penis." While I won't ban the use of this word in the bathroom for obvious reasons, I will unequivocally state that any phrases that start, "He posted pictures of his penis..." are not okay, especially when spoken at your table.
"Lines." Please don't leave me nonsensically stumbling to explain why you just said, "lines on the bathroom counter," instead of "lines to get to the bathroom counter. Please leave your lines and any talk about them, in the dorm from whence you came.
"Blow job." I am positive that I don't care if Erica gave Peter a blow job, but, after they wire your jaws shut, your boyfriend will be doing without them for a long, loooong time.

Now that we have established what can and cannot be said in a family restaurant, let me give you a few helpful hints to determine if you are indeed 'in' a family restaurant.

The term "Family Restaurant" appears in bold red letters on the sign.
There are people at least 1-2 feet shorter than you are in every direction you look.
They have a game room that doesn't include any darts, poker, or pool tables.
There are pissed off parents as far as the eye can see, wondering when their children will need to potty, so they will be free to discreetly rip out your vocal chords.

I think that I am the true test of what is absolutely, positively offensive. If you have managed to offend me, you have crossed a line. In the event that the occupants of the table behind ours ever stumble upon this post, "Just because a restaurant has a bar, doesn't mean it is one. Just because you're drunk, doesn't mean it's okay. Just because you can, doesn't mean you should...and the last one, is all that saved me from dumping my glass over your foul mouthed little heads, but, the next time I would STFU if I were you, restraint only goes so far."

Only wisdom and serenity today

2010-05-04T07:09:00.000-07:00

Jelly Bean with Honey this morning, Honey continues to decline.

Yesterday I had a revelation, I was on the phone with my mother and I told her that I couldn't really talk because I had to give the hamster a bath, and my mother responded with, "You're a fucking idiot. Just let the g*damned thing die. Why don't you give one of your kids a bath instead." I realized something at that moment...my relationship with my parents will never be fixable, because we don't *like* each other.

It isn't about who did what when, or even who said what...the biggest problem we have, is that we just don't like each other. We don't share the same tastes, values, or beliefs. We don't share the same goals or visions. In short, the only thing we have in common, are my children.

I'm walking away. Really. I am walking away now. I am putting an end to our relationship. They don't give a hoot about any of my kids except my oldest, and he is old enough to pick up the phone and call them if he would like.

It is time to end the cycle, and I suspect that we will all be happier people for it. I'm tired of being reminded on a daily basis that I am not living a life they approve of, and that I am not mothering in a way they sanction. I can only imagine that they are frustrated that I can't or won't change to conform to their standards.

I can tell you this, they did everything 'right' according to the records they keep, and they haven't seen any of their children over a holiday in a decade. If that is the result of doing it the 'right' way, I hope I keep doing everything wrong, because after my kids leave home, I want them to 'want' to spend time with me. I want them to fill my home with love and laughter always. I want love to be the greatest factor in my relationship with my kids, not judgement.

So, here is to having the wisdom to know what I can't change and the serenity to accept it.

An addendum to the Hamster Chronicles

2010-05-03T08:42:00.000-07:00

First, I have to give a shout out to our local major pet store, Petco. I know what you guys are saying about major franchises, but, our local Petco, at least, has got it together. Believe you me, I never thought I would utter those words, but, it is true.

The shop that we got Honey from, is a local store. It is not a franchise, and the owner that I dealt with, IS the owner/manager. I am *not* impressed with them at all. Not only do I come to find out that they routinely treat the water in their shop for Wet Tail, whether the animals are sick or not, but, they offered me nothing but misinformation designed to sell me more crap, that would have not been effective in treating the Wet Tail anyway.

Petco, where I have either purchased or adopted all of my other hamsters, is in my opinion, a class act. They are in partnership with a local vet, and they have all of their small animals who show any sign of illness or injury treated. They even have a program in place, such that, if I had not been able to afford to have Honey treated, I could have surrendered her to them, even though I didn't purchase her there, and they would have had her treated by their vet, and later she would be placed up for adoption, if she healed. Honestly, I tried to encourage the shop owner where Honey came from to either contact the vet, or surrender the rest of Honey's cage-mates, to them. Let's just say, she wasn't interested in my suggestion.

I have two hammies that I adopted from Petco recently, and both came to me with their veterinary records. One nearly lost an eye to his wheel in the store cage, and the other was an owner surrender because Big John is meaner than shit...of course, he also lived in shit for a long time with his previous owners, so I have hopes that one day, after we work with him for awhile, I'll be able to clean out his cage without worrying about losing a finger. Big John is also the coolest, baddest dude in town. He is so freaking funny that his antics make up for his grumpy ways...and, I think we even understand each other.

So guys, don't rule out the big name pet stores, check them out for yourselves and talk to the staff there. I have unfortunately found, that the local guys, aren't always the good guys.

***The BBB was the only party that I contacted willing to take a complaint against the pet store. The ASPCA, the state, and the county all fobbed me off to each other. The saddest part of this for me, is that I'm not looking to be reimbursed (not that I would refuse compensation for the vet bills) but, that I'm not sure the BBB has much if any jurisdiction over the treatment and welfare of animals.

The Hamster Chronicles

2010-05-02T16:37:00.000-07:00

In the event that you all didn't know, I have a small sized petting zoo, and we seem to add to it on a regular basis. I have two dogs, two cats, a parakeet, five hamsters, four fish tanks, a frog, and two betta bowls. Theoretically, with six children, I should have plenty of helping hands to help dole out snuggles and meals.

One of our newer acquisitions, a black bear hamster is ill. I noticed on Thursday, that she had not run on her wheel Wednesday night. On Thursday, I put a couple of treats on her wheel to see for sure if she wasn't running. The treats were still on the wheel Friday morning, so I picked her up to look at her. Her bottom was damp, and anyone who knows anything about small animals, knows that Wet Tail, is the worry of every hammie owner and aficionado. Wet Tail has a 90% mortality rate.

The first thing I did was call the shop to ask about the health of the other hamsters in the cage. The shop owner informed me that she had found three dead, but, that she didn't know why. She also tried to tell me that Wet Tail is completely curable, and that a vet visit was most unnecessary. I was horrified by the lack of care that the animals are given.

Don't get me wrong, I've lost hammies in the past, but never in a way that they suffered in any prolonged manner. I am also pretty sickened that the shop will continue to sell the hamsters from that cage to families like mine, setting the children who will love them, up for disaster. The disease has a slow onset, it takes between 7-10 days for a hamster to show symptoms, which is why the reputable shops will offer a 14 day policy on hamsters. I'll be honest, I've been a little queasy since Friday thinking about all of this.

I eventually found a vet in my area (that was less astronomical than others) who would see Honey. She confirmed what I already knew, that Honey had Wet Tail, and that while she would give us antibiotics, we shouldn't get our hopes up. She gave us a five day window, tomorrow, we will be just over half-way there. We are keeping our fingers crossed for our Honey Bear. In the meantime, I am changing bedding every 8 hours, administering antibiotics every 12 hours, and washing her soiled bottom every time she has a bowel movement. Talk about fun! You don't know adventure until you've washed your hamster's asshole with betadine...just take my word for it...okay?

I am actually approaching you guys on the Internet, not because I think that you are going to be greatly interested in our hammie, but, because I want to know what your thoughts are on the moral aspects of pet shops, and the treatment of 'less valuable' companion pets might be? I spent all day on Friday trying to find someone in our state/county that could tell me what the law is in reference to just letting animals suffer and die because they aren't of a great enough dollar value...and let me just say, that nobody seems to know. So tell me, what do you think should happen?

You haven't eaten out, until you've 'eaten out' in the South

2010-04-29T14:19:00.000-07:00

"Now, this here is a nice place. I just wanted to take y'all out to a really nice restaurant, and this here place is that, a really nice restaurant. Let's have us a good dinner at this nice place, on me."

The above is a quote from a man in the restaurant that my old high school friend and myself ate at last week. That man was wearing a pair of purple Docker shorts, a ringer tee with a purple collar, and a ball cap. I suspect that the shorts and the shirt were originally a Navy color before they met with disaster in the laundry. Only a good old boy, could possibly describe the place we were patronizing as a "really nice restaurant."

The setting for this particular place is lovely. It is right on the water, it has both water and street access. You can watch the kittens play under the dock, feed the fish, or not adhere to the strict "Do Not Feed the Gators" signs, while you wait for your table. It is a place from my teen years, ripe with memories of eating there, first with my family, and then with my friends as I got older. It seemed a perfect spot to get together with my friend C, whom I hadn't seen since our junior year of high school.

What I didn't remember about the place, was that it boasts one of the largest private collections of taxidermy in the country. It, without a doubt, has the record for the dustiest collection of taxidermy in the country. I am relatively certain that the recorded sounds of the long dead beasts that play on a loop, is new. That, I doubt I could have forgotten.

I had also forgotten that it is upscale red-neck dining at its finest. It is on par with a nice steak house in price, and in sync with a Long John Silver's in clientele. Very unusual. In my day, it boasted some of the best seafood in our area. I suspect that they are suffering from the current economic times, just the same as the rest of us. I also suspect that I can't be the only person to be grossed out by the 'drinking water' labelled pipes that run the length of the stalls in the women's restroom, to the bar.

Among the decor, there is a lion frozen in time, with what seems to be an antelope spending an eternity in his last leap, just under the lion's jaws. After a few drinks, it resembles an experiment in cross breeding, more so than the circle of life. There are also gators, giraffes, opossums, bobcats, more lions, wild boars, a flamingo, a tiger, and a small collection of companion kitties from over the years.

Their menu is as eclectic as their motif. They serve gator, python, llama, antelope, kangaroo, emu, ostrich, turtle, and a few more 'wild' game selections. I love their sausage, all of it. As a kid, I would get 'gator dogs' there. It was always yummy. This time they were out of most of my tried and trues, so (after having drinks first) we decided to branch out and try Gator Toes, which can be eaten like a chicken wing, and are the knuckle to claw area of the gator. I wasn't impressed. We also tried the chargrilled python. The snake was good. For dinner, I had gator tail, which was yummy, and, it always is. I would have rather had the gator ribs, but the kitchen turned me off the ribs by serving the Gator Toes still half frozen. For those of you who are skeptical that any of the above is actually food, you are clearly not from the South.

I am very sorry that I didn't take a camera with me. Soon, very soon indeed, I will return to take pictures of this dining experience...just so that I can share them with you, my bloggy pals. I promise to feature at least one picture of the lion bumping and grinding with his prey, and if sufficiently inebriated, one of me showing my tattoo to the tiger there...which I exercised restraint and didn't do this past trip. Anyone in my area interested in getting in on this informal dining review? Let me know.

The very best part of the evening was seeing my old friend. There is something unique about being reunited with an old friend, because no matter how far apart you have drifted, only the kind of friends you bonded with in youth, before we put up all the walls that adults always do, can make you feel so happy and carefree...even if only for a couple of hours.

Of course, I don't know if that rings true if you take kids along, so don't chance it.

Gratitude With Attitude Tuesday

2010-04-27T07:07:00.000-07:00

Dearest Douche Bags at Starbucks Today,

I totally 'get' the need for coffee.

HOWEVER, if, in your haste to get your caffeine on, you plow into another person or vehicle in the parking lot, don't you think that is going to slow you down way worse than having another person in front of you in line?

Also, you Fucktard Bitch in the beat all to hell white Dodge Grand Caravan? You deserve to be 'coffee boarded' which is much like water boarding, except with that effing Latte you just *had* to have *right this second.* I know that doesn't sound very legal, but, just like Dick Cheney, I feel you warrant an exception to the rules. When you made an illegal turn across four lanes of traffic after I chose not to let you hit me, for the second time, even though it would have been your fault? I regretted my restraint.

This is supposed to be a thank you letter, so what can I possibly thank you for? Hmmmm...I thank you for waking me up, anger is a much more powerful stimulant than caffeine. Maybe that's why Starbucks has done nothing about the serious danger their parking lot represents.

Sincerely,

Next time I see you, I'll be the one climbing out of my car...and I don't bitch slap.

***************

Dear Waiter,

Thank you for saving me some mega bucks. I usually tip well. When I am taking up your table because I wish to have a leisurely dinner with an old friend, I usually tip *very* well. However, your eye rolling and hefty sighs gave me all the encouragement I needed to stick to a 25% rule.

The gator toes that you suggested were still half frozen when you served them to us. While I wasn't looking for a freebie, it would have been really nice if you had served us a fresh order, instead of nuking the cold ones. If you didn't believe me, you could have touched one...honest.

The python was excellent, as was the gator tail. I was disappointed that you were out of all sorts of good stuff, like kangaroo sausage and antelope. Next time, I'll call ahead...to make sure that YOU aren't there and that your menu items are.

A suggestion for your future? Nasty servers never make great tips, that is why they call it the 'service industry.'

Sincerely,

If I had wanted shrimp, I would have eaten somewhere else

***************

Dear Self,

Bitch, you are CRAZY! How did you let the woman at the pet store talk you into adopting both of their crazy hamsters? That is just what you needed. Two more living, breathing, shitting things to take care of. Better yet, two more living, breathing, shitting things that require massive amounts of time and energy to be rehabilitated.

Please be advised to stop this self destructive behavior before your children are old enough to have you 'Baker Act-ed.'

Thank you for proving that your heart hasn't gone the way of your soul...vacuumed out to make room for the ever increasing levels of sarcasm. Now, go clean out those cages, and let those hamster chomps serve as reminders of why you are another stoo-pid human.

Sincerely,

The few brain cells that six pregnancies didn't kill

***************

Dear Big Boy,

Each and every gray hair on my head was put there by YOU! I suppose I should have asked first, if you would mind my undoing all of your hard work...but, it is MY hair!

Thank you for proving that I am raising a young man who will actually notice details about women. However, you tuned out before we got to a critical portion of the lesson..."I really hope that washes out!" is not the way to make a woman happy. Please be advised, you heard it here first, even if it takes your future wife and a frying pan to drive the point home.

Love,

Your publishing this for posterity Mama

***************

Okay guys, prove there is at least one of you reading, and go see Think Tank Momma to link up and play along!

Let's show a little gratitude...GWA

2010-04-19T20:52:00.000-07:00

Gratitude With Attitude, courtesy of Think Tank Momma. Go to her site and link up, this is such great therapy!

***************

Dear Hamsters,

Thank you for making my children happy. They love you already. I do not.

I have to admit, that my son's hamster seems mild mannered and even tempered, and has yet tried to bite me. My daughter's hamster is a blood thirsty bitch though. Cute, adorable even...and mean.

Please let me serve you with this warning, the first time you draw blood, in absence of stitches you will be forgiven. The second time? I will lock you in the bathroom with my cats. Who is laughing now, huh?

Sincerely,

Rodents aren't really my thing

***************

Dear A's Parents,

Thank you for convincing my kids that we are normal. And by 'we' I mean 'me' not you. You all are clearly crazy.

My daughter came home from your house with a renewed appreciation for my housekeeping skills (or lack thereof) and I am grateful for it.

At first, I was all, "What do you mean their house is a wreck? They only have one kid, and her mother stays home?" Then my daughter told me about the chicken coop you have in your living room. And about your fish, pet rat things, and birds. I suppose it must be hard to clean around a CHICKEN COOP IN YOUR LIVING ROOM, so I understand now. I am thoroughly disgusted, but, I understand.

Oh, and no thank you, we would *not* like one of your chicks, unless you kill it, clean it, and pluck it first.

Many thanks,

Viv

***************

Dear Hubby,

I want to thank you for saving me all those calories. The beer that you opened, tasted, and then poured out would have added inches to my waist for sure.

Of course, they would also have made me happy. The fact that you don't care for 'real' beer saddens me, but, not as much as finding a bottle of craft brewed Hefeweizen, an IPA, a 'true' lager, and a bottle of Newcastle sitting in waiting to go out to the recycle bin.

It is established that we don't have the same taste in beer, so the next time you surprise me with a visit...stop and buy some Coors on your way in. You are no longer permitted to open anything that has a pry off cap that is under my roof.

Thanks for understanding,

Your wife, the beer snob

Winner's privilege and Monday Minute

2010-04-19T08:44:00.000-07:00

Another blogger's answers to The Daily Dose of Reality's Monday Minute, made me want to play along, so here we go.

1 - Ever take a shit in the woods?

Er, no.

2 - If you won $1,000, what's the first thing you would do with it besides give me a cut?
That would leave me with $9,990, enough to take my kids to Disney for a long weekend.*

3 - What's your favorite phrase?
I'm just plum fucking peachy.

4 - Fill in the blank - the world would be a better place if ______ left the planet.
insects and reptiles...and yes, I saw the bee movie...so I would settle with them leaving my neighborhood.

5 - How do you take your coffee or tea?
Tea, eeeuuw. I take my coffee with French Vanilla coconut creamer and agave nectar.

Over at My Mercurial Nature, she posted that winners can post twice today. And, I am a winner. I won Modern Mom's Perricone giveaway. Whoot! So, I am claiming my winner's multiple post privilege. Not that I needed a reason, but, it feels better to have one.

*Dude! I am in a sorry, sorry state. Maybe it was just the power of wishful thinking, but, I added nine grand to that prize money. It was more likely a combination of over medicating for my allergies and sleep deprivation. So...I guess with $990 I would take the family down to Universal for the opening of Hogwarts there. I suppose it might leave me enough change for a few fire whiskeys at The Three Broomsticks. Gah!!! I can't believe I did that. Thanks to Think Tank Momma for calling me out so I don't go down in history as the world's dumbest blogger.

You are what you eat

2010-04-19T08:07:00.001-07:00

Can a person die from allergies, like a severe allergic reaction to be allergic? No? I didn't figure, but, the way I feel right now, I started to wonder. One of my adorable children asked if I ate Snow White's dwarves...or at least Grumpy and Sneezy. Kids...they're so cute, don't you think?

Looking like I ate a few dwarves, especially the 'you are what you eat' variety has me thinking that it is time for me to start climbing back on the wagon. It has been a rough year, Baby Girl's birth, my subsequent hospital stay, my husband's job insecurity, the step children induced drama, having three kids three and under while trying to stay on top of my three school aged children...has left me a shell of the person I once was. I need to start making myself a priority again.

Baby Girl will be one next month. My baby won't be a baby any more. I hate it. I see little tiny babies in a restaurant or a store and I want to sob. I don't want to not have babies around me. I also know on a different level, that my body couldn't handle another child. Nor perhaps could I. This year has been the most difficult of my life. I suffer from exhaustion like I never have before. I'm sure bringing up babies with Daddy so far away, is a contributing factor. The Little Lady will be two in July, and so I have been raising my family, and bringing up babies single handed for the last 20 months.

The sheer work involved in getting through my day is the largest contributing factor in letting myself go. I know it is so. Still, I need to change all that. I am going for a trim and to have my hair highlighted at the end of the week. I am also going to get a much needed mani/pedi. I have been shopping online for some new clothes, me being me, that means a few new snarky tee shirts. I have been watching what I eat a bit better than I had been. I am not exercising per se, my ankle isn't quite there yet, as a matter of fact, it protests loudly, but, I would like to start. It is time now that my baby is almost one, for me to start losing that 'new mom' pallor. Of course, if those babies would sleep through the night, it would help mightily with that.

Wish me luck guys. I have a feeling that I'm going to need it.

Parenting fails

2010-04-15T15:10:00.000-07:00

Not very often do I speak out about other parents, this time I am bending that rule.

My son came home from school and told me that he loaned $20 to his friend. This 'friend' lives a couple of doors down from us. I wasn't happy on several different levels. I like the boy to whom he loaned the money but at their age $20 is quite a bit of money. Loaning money to a friend, especially money that took a couple of months to save, can be trying for any friendship. I also found out that the loan was supposed to be a secret. Red flag! Why a secret?

I insisted that we tell his parents. I walked down to their door, and his grandmother pulled up just as I was about to knock. I told his grandmother that I just needed them to know that 'friend' had borrowed the money, because even though I am pretty relaxed as a parent (though they are not) I couldn't in good conscience allow secrets to be kept from the parents.

His mother knocked on my door, she was almost confrontational about it. She was adamant that her son wouldn't borrow money, and that they would be aware immediately if he had $20 because he is never out of their sight. I just calmly suggested that she night wish to ask her son about it.

She came back a few moments later to say that her boy admitted to owing mine the money when she told him that my son had knocked on their door to collect it. She further stated that her son would have to repay the debt on his own. They came back a little bit later with a $15 gift card to a store we don't usually shop at and $5. Granted, she asked my son if it was okay, while stating that the alternative was for him to wait until 'friend' earned enough allowance to pay the rest. My son agreed, mostly because he didn't want his buddy to be in trouble, but, he is bummed about it.

So...a few parenting fails here.

Lying to your child to catch him/her in a lie...FAIL!
She might have 'purchased' the gift card from her son, as they do shop there, instead of giving it to my son...FAIL!
Being rude to another parent who is trying to do the right thing? FAIL.

The buddy used the money his parents had given him to pay for his elective class fees, to buy tickets to an in-school sports event instead. He used the money from my son to pay for his elective. The reason that I wanted his parents to know, was because I had all sorts of crazy stuff going through my head. I worried about the child being bullied, or about him using the money to experiment with drugs, and even about him being afraid to tell his parents that he lost money. I would have wanted to know, so that is why I told the parents. I even made it a point to tell their son that if he needed money for school, I would be happy to loan it to him, or even give to him, just as long as his parents know. I understand being strapped for cash, I've been there. If he ever needs money for a field trip, etc., I will be happy to help if I can. I just don't want secrets.

G.W.A. the Father Time edition

2010-04-13T08:26:00.001-07:00

Dear Father Time,

You are being cruel to me as of late. You and fate have conspired for me to meet up with a couple of people I used to know, who are about a decade older than I am. I am shocked to see how 'old' they look. Now I am panicked that I have about ten good years left. Frightening. (It would have been nice to arrange for me to have been wearing make-up and *not* wearing my cleaning sweats.)

Then yesterday, as I looked at pictures of my 18 year old nephew, you sucker punched me. All I can see is the little boy who used to sit in my lap and talk to me. How did that happen Father Time? How did it happen that fast?

The true test of my mettle was to have my oldest comment, "Cousin S turned 18? Cool. I didn't know he was only 5 years older than me!" My oldest son can't be leaving me in 5 short years. I an not ready for this. I am not ready at all. When he was small, these years were so far from being anything but a hazy dream in my mind, I hate the sharpening clarity of my vision of the future. I hate it Father Time, and I'm not too crazy about you either.

I owe you a grudging thanks, for reminding me in a most unpleasant way, that the time to make memories is now.

So, thank you Father Time, you arrogant bastard.

Sincerely,

Comparing my reflection, to those of my images taped to the mirror, trying to figure out how much deeper and longer my laugh lines are now.

Think Tank Momma is hosting her Gratitude With Attitude today. She needs some inspiration as you will see, even if you aren't wanting to join in and link up...leave a comment and help her get her mojo back.

Entry to petting zoo...free

2010-04-12T06:02:00.000-07:00

So...because I am batshit crazy, I got my 7 year old son a parakeet yesterday as an early (and only) birthday gift. He is mucho in love with the bird, so he is a happy camper, the little dude even offered to trade his planned birthday trip to Disney, in for the parakeet. I will admit that the bird is cute. My cats are eyeing his cage (hung from a hook on the ceiling for his own safety) with soulful abandon. My dogs seem inclined to just be jealous.

I also had to set up a new aquarium this weekend. One of the friggin carnival fish went belly up, and I didn't panic until one of my little guys started swimming funny, and now I am worried about dropsy. The fish that passed first, had a hard white mass on the side, which I thought to be a tumor, but, with my little guy acting poorly I decided to quarantine him and the other carnival fish. I moved my older healthier fish to a new tank. Pain in my osh gosh b'gosh. I am now $50 into the death of a free fish. Grrrr!!!

My daughter and oldest son are saving their money for new hamsters. They have been looking at a teddy bear and black bear hamster. My daughter has even found a castle cage for hers. Ugh! Just what I needed, a few more things whose shit I have to clean. (Then why the bird? I know, I know.)

I was miserable having to send my babies back to school today. I want it to be Summer already...gosh darn it!!!

When was the last time you wore a toga?

2010-04-09T18:20:00.000-07:00

It is pretty much official, I am in a funk. Just about everything overwhelms me right now. I am feeling terrible, a good portion of the 'terrible' has to do with the crazy pollen in the air here and my allergies. Then there is the roof which is still leaking, the faucet which is still dripping, the circuit breaker which trips every five seconds, the dryer which won't work properly because of the electrical problem, and the oven which is still broken. H's sprained finger, my broken nose, my sprained ankle, the Pink Eye, the fevers my small teething one has, and a whole bunch of other things. Losing so much food when the fridge went, made me terribly depressed. Hubby's job issues have me frightened again. The whole sleep deprivation and resulting exhaustion have turned me into a non functioning blob.

Right now, my eyes are threatening to close. I had a nap this morning, but, it did very little to help. I am so spent, that an hour or two of shut eye can't bring me back from this seeming point of no return. I am trying to gather enough strength to do the dishes and clean up. Hard to muster when your body betrays you by letting you fall asleep sitting up.

***************

A friend sent me an invitation to a Toga birthday party tomorrow. It is the only thing that I have found laugh out loud funny in days. Do people my age still do that crap? How do people my age still do that crap? My reaction was, "You've got to be [bleeping] kidding me!" and should I be depressed that I wasn't even tempted to go?

4:30 a.m.

2010-04-09T01:37:00.000-07:00

What do most people do at 4:30 in the morning?

Today is the first day this week that my Baby Girl has been asleep at this witching hour, or bitching hour, as the case might be. So...as a special treat...vomit all over my bed courtesy of my three year old.

I sit here now, puked on, holding The Little Lady who has been fussing on and off and for the last couple of hours, after stripping my bed and turning my mattress in the dark.

My tummy is churning. Bad food? Or perhaps that icky barfed on feeling that only a shower and time can erase. Only time will tell.

A small step for Mom, a giant step for green cleaners everywhere

2010-04-08T15:26:00.000-07:00

A new cleaning product that might just change my life.

Seventh Generation Disinfecting Spray. They have teamed up with Cleanwell to offer this product which is 100% as effective as any bleach based or other conventional antibacterial product. I am so happy! :)

They sure aren't paying me, so this isn't an endorsement of any sort, I'm just naturally this happy about germs killed...well...naturally.

My Target sells it for under $3.

I am such a happy Mommy. Think of an addict who gets a fix...that is me right now. Spraying down my kitchen and feeling that deep sense of contentment that only my relationship with 409 used to provide.

My blog name should be, "I Can Only Do Random."

2010-04-07T13:06:00.000-07:00

I just ordered my new phone online. I have been holding out for a time when my children stop using my phone as a chew toy. I just can't hold out any longer. I ordered a blackberry. My oldest child has declared that he hates me and that more people like him, than like me, so he deserves a blackberry more than I do. While I am certain that he is correct, the chances of me shelling out the money for a 12 year old to carry a blackberry is slim to completely nonexistent. "Life is soooo unfair!"

I am also shopping, in a slow, planned, and orderly fashion for new living room and children's bedroom furniture. I have decided to replace the children's mish mosh of mismatched furniture with twin over twin bunks with trundles. Two beds will accommodate all six of my children. While I have high hopes that they won't necessarily 'need to' in the future, it is necessary for right now. Several Ikea organizers will be included in their remodels.

This Spring Break, I am trying to get my children on a much firmer, more reliable schedule. Last night the Baby Girl went to bed at 9:30 p.m., which I considered a small, but, mighty victory. I wasn't feeling so victorious at 3:00 this morning, nor at 7:00 when I handed her off to my first big child, out of bed. If I can manage to get them on a decent schedule, I will not be looking forward to Hubby visiting, because it is him encouraging them to stay up wayyyyy past their little bed times, which throws everything to hell to begin with.

Twelve year old sons are demon spawn. This morning I wrote a (somewhat) loving comment to a friend of a friend about her tween. Glad she caught me early, right now my advice would be, "Do you know any Gypsies? Pay them to take him." Twelve year old boys have pregnant women beat in the crazy hormone race. Ugh! Now I understand boarding school.

Okay...I am off to clean my floor, wash some clothes, and make lists (shocker) for my shopping day tomorrow! Y'all have fun.

G.W.A.

2010-04-06T00:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Loving Family,

Thank you, it was wonderful that you talked to me about what to put in the Easter eggs for Hercules. I even lowered my standards and agreed to let him have conventional stuff as long as it was free of red dye, HFCS, and gluten. Sweetarts, Skittles, and Nerds DO NOT meet those criteria.

We talked about gluten free jelly beans, and gummy worms, lollipops and the like. We talked about where to find them, etc. Imagine my surprise when I am being pulled in ten different directions only to find my son chowing down on Nerds.

It isn't about you having to meeting H's needs, I don't expect that, it is about *telling me* you had changed the game plan. The next four hours that he spent as the 'child from hell?' Remember how impatient and pissy his behavior made you? Uh, it was your ~~fucking~~ fault. The fact that my day was ruined by it, lingering long into the night? That really sucked. It sucks even more that you blame him.

Next year when I tell you that we can't come, I hope you'll understand.

Sincerely,

WHY???!!!

***************

Dear The Little Lady,

You are going to be two in July. Sleep through the night already!!! Being up all night, every night is kicking my ass. You wake up your sister, who takes over when you finally sleep, and the combination is totally draining me. This two hours of sleep a night that isn't even consecutive, is rendering me useless.

I can't function like this. Prisoners of war have been broken by less intense sleep deprivation. Give me a break. I'm not sure how much longer I can go on like this.

Love,

Mommy, Momma, Mommia, MOMMMMMMYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

***************

Come play along. Swing by Think Tank Momma's site, grab the code, write your post, link it in her comments sections, and show her some comment love, to let her know you've done so. It's that easy!

Lusting after major appliances and Easter

2010-04-05T17:17:00.000-07:00

We've had an awesome few days. We have a new fridge. The old one has been relocated to the Florida room to be fixed at our expense and used as an extra...which we need...desperately. My new fridge ~~fucking~~ rocks my world, which should give you a glimmer as to how far I've fallen.

Is it just me, or is Pandora awesome for about an hour and then they cease to play anything you even vaguely like?

Friday I got brave with the ankle and took the kids to the Spring Festival at Whole Foods. I'm glad I did. So many of my kids won the cupcake eating contest that we turned a profit, they won $40 in gift cards combined. Fortunately, we only won two more goldfish at the penny toss. It was another amazing family time. I took scads of pictures. The kids all had a wonderful time. We had dinner and dessert. I even chanced a beer. It was a total cost of $15 for the seven of us.

Saturday the fridge came, and I had to resist the urge to sing, "I touch myself," when I saw the three awesome shelves on the door and the way it barely cleared the cabinet above it. I'm not the only one who remembers The Divinyls, am I?

Sunday we had Easter dinner at my grandparents' house. The children had a blast hunting Easter eggs, and dinner was great. It was nice to be able to sit and relax while other people were pulled in a million different directions by my offspring.

Today has been a funky day. I've felt 'off' all day. I think it might have been staying up all night before Easter to do 'Bunny Duty' and bake the gluten free 'buttermilk' loaf to make pineapple stuffing with. Lingering exhaustion seems to be a big theme around here as of late.

Tomorrow is 'Gratitude With Attitude' Tuesday with Think Tank Momma. I'm getting my letters ready. Can't wait!

Light It Up Blue

2010-04-01T15:02:00.000-07:00

"A Proud Mom To Many" is going blue for autism awareness. Over the past few years, autism has flirted with my own life. A diagnosis of autism has been bandied about, casually rejected at times, stringently scrutinized at others, as an attempt to 'explain' my son. While doctors continue to argue about the 'right' label for my child, one thing that I know for certain is this...there are many families affected by autism. Those families deserve anything and everything that we can do to show our support for them. Stacey of Willowjak Boys, has some amazing suggestions for what we can do in support of Autism Awareness Month.

I will be honest with you. My thoughts that will follow, aren't going to be censored by my desire to not offend, or for any modicum of political correctness. If that doesn't sound like your cup of tea click away. If you aren't clicking away, please consider my intent, which isn't to hurt anyone, but to tell my story.

When I first heard "autistic" as a description for what might be wrong with H, I walked out of the doctor's office. I was certain that the doctor was crazy. Autism to me, meant Rain Man, and my son was definitely not anything like Rain Man. That was before I heard the word 'spectrum' in conjunction with autism.

I searched for a different doctor. I wanted one that was less prone to medicate and offer a glib diagnosis. It took quite some time. During that time, I learned quite a bit. I learned about autism, conventional medicine, homeopathic medicine, and lots of other things that the tiny streams and small tributaries of those large rivers led me to.

I met people with autistic children. I met the children themselves. I saw that I was ignorant about so many things. I was ignorant to everything that a mainstream doctor with a cookie cutter practice didn't tell me about. I was compelled by the parents I met along the way. I was able to identify with them, and their children, better than anyone else.

It is without a doubt that I can tell you that Hercules exhibits many of the same traits that autistic children have. Does that mean he is autistic? No, it doesn't. He might have ADHD, he might just be a 'high maintenance' child, or he might be something else. I can tell you that the things we have done to improve the quality of his life, and as a by product, our own...have all been suggested and then implemented after talking to our doctor, by friends who deal with autism daily. Controlling my son's yeast levels (or trying to) made a huge difference in his behavior. Going GFCF, practically gave me a different child. Certain supplements made dietary infractions less severe. Others helped him to sleep better. Yet more, helped to calm him down and allay some of his anxiety.

Parents of children with autism have become some of my favorite people, most trusted confidants, and my mentors. They are my friends. They are my family. They are a brilliant support system. They cared not, that we didn't 'know' what was wrong with our son, they cared that they could help. Whether is was to send me a recipe, tell me about their day, or recommend a book...the parents of autistic children have done something that the rest of us lay folks can't seem to do. They embrace their differences, offer unconditional love and support, and withhold judgement.

I am humbled by them. I am even more humbled by their children. The brilliance of their smiles that convey what their words might not. The intelligence that burns behind their eyes, solving puzzles, completing tasks, sometimes without offering any insight to the observer as to what is fueling their fires. The anguish that they wear, at times untouched by even their parents' compassion. The triumphs that they celebrate and strive for each day.

Don't be like I was, don't let Dustin Hoffman's role define what you know, ignorance is not bliss. I can't promise that you won't be sad. I can't promise that there is a happy ending for everyone. I can promise that you won't regret taking the time to better educate yourselves. I can promise that after doing so you will be compelled to contribute, even in a small way, as I am doing, to Autism Awareness Month.

Finally, I am going to give you some links to bloggers who have autistic children, where better to start than from the horse's mouth? Pick one or two and read their stories.

Autismomma at 1-2-3 Autism Free

Stacey at Willowjak Boys

Kim at Stuck in the Suburbs

Jo at A Sweet Dose of Truth

Have a drink with me, it's 5:00 somewhere...and then do me a favor

2010-04-01T12:08:00.000-07:00

I hate to sound like a broken record, but, my ankle is killing me. It throbs constantly and I have O-N-E pain pill left. It is 3:00 p.m. on the first day of Spring Break, and I am going to open my last coveted bottle of Scrumpy's Cider. Maybe if I drink, I won't care so much about my ankle. To make myself clear, I am *not* driven to drink by my children. I am so happy, relieved (to tell the truth) to get them to myself for a little while. I wish I had been a SAHM when they started school, I think that I would have really loved to home school them. Maybe I'll home school the little ones. We'll see.

My aunt took pity on me and took me shopping today for Easter supplies for my babies. I got them small Whole Foods shopping bags in lieu of the Easter baskets that I always end up throwing away. I also found organic gummy bear packs, organic lollipops, gluten free Easter paper wrapped chocolates, all natural M & M knock offs, and gummy worms for their baskets. The children are also getting a 'special' item, H is getting a butterfly net, JB a notebook, etc. It will be a small thing this year because they'll end up with tons of stuff from my grandparents' house too. We are going over there for an Easter egg hunt and Easter dinner. I can't drive, so my aunt and uncle are coming so my aunt can drive us over in my truck. We can't simply ride with them because they have a standard size vehicle.

Tonight I need to make something other than Cheerios for dinner. Especially because my really awesome grandmother (she is, honest) heard that I was letting the children eat Cheerios, so she brought them wholesale size boxes of Honey Nut and Chocolate Cheerios. Not exactly what I was embracing with the addition of conventional cereal to their diets. The children however, are *loving* it.

***************

Now, I want to send all of you over to Duct Tape and Bubble Wrap. My friend Alicia is freaking brilliant. She is so much like me, if I were smarter, kinder, and funnier. She has started Duct Tape and Bubble Wrap, and I would *really* like it if you all would go and say hello to her, maybe follow her, because she is an awesome Mommy. She has twin preschool aged girls and a newborn who was born a preemie, but, is making up ground fast.

You guys know that I don't usually point you in other directions, but, when I do, it's worth it. Right? Right.

Gratitude With Attitude...the loving Mommy edition

2010-03-30T11:08:00.000-07:00

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.

Love,

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.

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

2010-03-29T17:29:00.000-07:00

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.

Just call me 'Grace'

2010-03-27T18:14:00.000-07:00

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.

Help

2010-03-25T10:16:00.000-07:00

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

D-O-N-E

2010-03-23T17:40:00.000-07:00

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???!!!

2010-03-23T06:49:00.000-07:00

Think Tank Momma's Gratitude With Attitude Tuesday...come play with me.

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.

Love,

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!

Sincerely,

The woman who owns 15 laundry baskets.

Stoked

2010-03-21T20:42:00.001-07:00

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.

Happy Nowruz..Aide shoma mobarak!

2010-03-20T21:22:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-20T05:31:00.000-07:00

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!

A quick update

2010-03-18T19:20:00.000-07:00

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.

Short, not sweet

2010-03-17T21:00:00.000-07:00

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.

Gratitude with attitude

2010-03-16T06:24:00.001-07:00

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.

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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.

Sincerely,

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.

Sincerely,

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?

Love,

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

What is mommy blogging to me?

2010-03-15T10:04:00.000-07:00

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!

Evil laughs

2010-03-12T10:50:00.000-08:00

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

2010-03-12T06:05:00.000-08:00

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.

In reference to my last post...

2010-03-11T22:28:00.000-08:00

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.

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

2010-03-10T11:06:00.000-08:00

"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?

Gratitude With Attitude (and even some plain gratitude)

2010-03-09T09:19:00.000-08:00

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.

Sincerely,

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.

Regards,

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!

Tests and being tested

2010-03-04T09:05:00.000-08:00

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.

Today all I have for you is...stuff

2010-03-03T17:26:00.000-08:00

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.

Signed,

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

Gratitude With Attitude...F bomb dropped liberally

2010-03-02T21:33:00.000-08:00

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.

Sincerely,

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.

Sincerely,

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?

Sincerely,

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

I knew it

2010-03-01T15:06:00.000-08:00

It's pink eye.

It is always something

2010-03-01T05:00:00.000-08:00

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?

The statistics of shopping for a larger family

2010-02-26T05:10:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I went grocery shopping. One thing that those of you with smaller families won't be able to understand, is how much work it is to shop for a family of eight. Trust me, with my first...four, maybe? I didn't know either. No worries, I am here to tell you all about it.

It was a rare to treat to have my aunt chauffeur me yesterday to do my shopping. Her truck has more cargo room than mine, owing to having one less row of seats, no doubt. While she kept remarking on how hard it was getting three babies dressed and packed to leave the house for a few hours, she really has no idea, because I usually, am flying solo. After an hour, we had all three babies dressed and buckled into their car seats.

Our first stop was Costco, where I picked up the following.

6 gallons of milk
2 cases of bottled water
1 box of Cheerios
6 packs of ground beef
1 box of bacon
2 packs of hot dogs
4 bags of chips (about 7 lbs)
2 containers of baby formula
butter
2 packs of pita bread
4 lbs of animal crackers
1.5 qt of olive oil
1 qt of half and half
1 box of trash bags
1 bottle of laundry detergent
flea treatment for the animals
kitty litter

Then it was on to Babies R Us for,

2 packs of diapers
1 case of wipes
several bottles of hand soap
several packs of baby food

Next came our local natural food market for,

6 lbs of apples
4 lbs of onions
2 packs of gluten free pasta
2 packs of gluten free cookies

Afterward we stopped at Target for,

2 (more) packs of baby wipes
108 more diapers
Swiffer refill pads
health and beauty odds and ends

Finally, it was Whole Foods to buy,

1+case of gallon water
1+case of 1/2 gallon lemonade
1 case of bread
2 cases canned veggies
1 case of pasta sauce
2 family size tubs of yogurt
2 dozen eggs
6 assorted packages of cheese (4 lbs)
3 lbs apples
6 lbs bananas
6 boxes of cookies
gluten free pizza crusts
regular pizza crusts
ice cream
healthy Nutella knock-off
2 containers sour cream
more milk
1 case of bathroom tissue

That is almost enough food to feed my family for two weeks. The physical work involved in the constant lifting of babies and groceries into and out of carts is not to be underestimated. Then it must all be packed into the vehicle, unloaded at home, and put away.

At the end of a shopping day, I am physically exhausted, and emotionally exhausted from trying to entertain babies at the same time. That is why I must have been frigging nuts to offer to take the children on a walk up the street to buy a couple of packs of Pepsi (the sugar sweetened variety) as a special treat. The walk was roughly 1.75 miles round trip. We took 2 strollers, both doubles. We bought 4 packs of soda, ziploc bags, and a gallon of bleach. On the way back, H unbuckled his stroller straps, and as I made to run across a busy intersection, he fell out, on the pavement. I picked him up, dusted him off, said a little prayer for no broken bones, and promised him...FAST FOOD for dinner. Fast food is faintly forbidden in my home, and it is therefore more well respected than Santa. We did stop at Burger King to make good on my promise, then we hustled the rest of the way home so we could eat. Walking into the house, my Baby Girl got her head pretty well banged up by the tray on the new stroller. Shortly thereafter, we figured out that my oldest had tracked poo in on his shoes.

Yep. Yesterday was a regular proud day at The Proud House.

Gratitude With Attitude

2010-02-23T10:33:00.000-08:00

Have you guys heard of Think Tank Momma? I love her Gratitude With Attitude feature. I found it, and her through Laura, and I am grateful to both of them for making me smile today. I have decided to adopt some false bravado and invite myself to participate. Without further ado...

Dear Spouse,

Remember when you called me yesterday? I said I was bleaching the floor on my hands and knees. Remember when you called back and I told you I was still bleaching the floor on my hands and knees? Scrubbing the unsealed grout with a glorified toothbrush while chemically burning my entire respiratory system.

When you called me last night to tell me that your poor landlady couldn't go to work yesterday because she had to bleach the sink in your bathroom because you weren't keeping it clean enough? I wanted to hit you over the head with the frying pan I was washing until you got it. Asking me what would be a nice thing to do for her to say thank you? Let me suggest you take away the knives if you still want to talk about it when you get home.

Thank you for being such a kind soul that you worry so much about your landlady. It is very sweet really. If you gave a shit about me, it would be sweeter yet.

Love,

~~Do I fucking have to charge you rent to get you to appreciate anything I do?~~ Your Wife

*********************************

Dear Son,

I love you. You are my flesh and blood. You make me laugh and charm me with your wit. You are an amazing young man who never fails to astound me.

You are also lazy. I'm tired of your crap. I'm tired of your mouth. When you are talking to me and I tune out? When you accuse me of not listening? It is because I am fantasizing about duct taping your mouth shut until you can show a modicum of respect.

When I tell you that I want you to do something and you respond with, "Why do I have to do it? What are you doing right now?" I have to repeat, "Violence is not the answer," over and over and over again...until thoughts of an old fashioned whuppin' pass.

Thank you so much for forcing me to learn patience, beyond the limits that I never dreamed I could have.

I owe you one,

Mom

**********************************

Dear NBC,

About the Olympic hockey? I still hate your guts.

Thanks for giving me something other than my family to focus my *verypissedoffness* on.

Still a hater,

Your bitter ex viewer

*********************************

Weekend Recap

2010-02-22T05:50:00.000-08:00

My older boys spent the weekend at my grandparents' house. It was good for them to get away from the lure of their video games and computer stuff. They had a good time with Nana and Papa. The house was really quiet without them. I even got to take a nap on Saturday after they left.

My oldest daughter was a goddess this weekend. She was really helpful and just happy... it's so nice to be around little rays of sunshine like her. She also had a little bit of special fun this weekend. BFF's mom came by and invited her to go to the park with them yesterday. She also brought me a whole bunch of oranges. She is a really lovely lady. This weekend I will finally return the favor. Not sure what I'll bake yet, but, we'll make extra and take some over to her family.

The high point of my weekend was being pumped about Super Sunday and all of the wonderful hockey games I was going to get to watch. I missed seeing Russia play because our landlord (aka, my brother-in-law) came over to get estimates for removing the dead pine tree. What do you know? The quote I gave him was the lowest...by far.

The low point was finding out that the USA wasn't televising the USA vs Canada match up on regular cable. The people at NBC are assholes. Instead, there was ice dancing. Who gives a shit about ice dancing, I ask you? So...instead of a nation overflowing with national pride in the amazing (I assume...because I didn't see it) endeavors of our Olympic hockey team...we're talking about the costumes the ice dancers wore. Piss me off much? You betcha. After the Olympics the people at NBC can suck my...~~don't have one of those dammit~~ never mind.

Anyone see Bill Maher Friday night? Or at some point this past weekend? I love Bill Maher. He is such a douche bag...I think that is part of his appeal. He had Seth MacFarlane on, probably one of my favorite guests of all time. He is SO funny, and he is smart, like really smart...you can just tell. He was addressing Sarah Palin's outrage over the character from his show dating a girl with Down Syndrome (who happened to have a mother who was the former governor of Alaska.) She managed to piss off the actress (who has Downs IRL) that played the part by championing for her. Look, I want to like Sarah Palin. She is a woman, a mother of five, she's even a brunette. I can't bring myself to do it though. I think she is a total ~~retard, no wait, that isn't politically correct, someone will take offense~~ nincompoop.

That's it. Love my kids. Love the Olympics. Love hockey. Love Bill Maher and the Family Guy dude. Don't love Sarah Palin or NBC. I think that pretty much sums up the weekend.

I am such an a$$hole

2010-02-19T16:37:00.000-08:00

So...in my haste to get out of the door, I had to deal with one nose bleed, evidenced by the stain on my pants, one reflux baby, also evidenced by the stain on my pants, one peanut buttery hug, evidenced by the stain on my shirt, and one runaway neighbor dog, evidenced by dirt all over my sweater.

Late and filthy, I missed the beer tasting. Guess what they tasted tonight? The bottle of Utopias that I have been coveting and dreaming about. Not only am I an asshole, I am an asshole that feels like a first class douche bag.

That'll teach me to be anti-social.

My children are slowing sapping my will to live

2010-02-19T11:06:00.000-08:00

I had a blog post written earlier today, which my son was kind enough to erase and replace with a post in my youngest child's favorite tongue, Gibberish. He was also nice enough to publish his post for all of you. I have since erased it. I know that those of you with tyrant toddlers of your own, wanted to sit them down in front of the computer, see if they would understand his call, and if toddlers around the world would rise up as one and overthrow their parents' system of governing. I've ruined that for you. I'm sorry. Another day, another coup, perhaps.

For the first time in the nine months (today, she is nine months, can you all believe that?) my Baby Girl is sleeping with a pacifier. At least she is sleeping. I am, in the meantime, still nursing a headache from yesterday. It sucks. My three year old is washing his hands after a potty trip, with every intent to flood the kitchen. My 19 month old is beating me over the head with the broom handle, it isn't helping my headache, but, it is keeping her from screaming. Never mind, I take that last part back. Her little voice has returned to a fevered pitch, which is like shooting shards of glass through my aching brain.

My laptop isn't working. I spent 17 hours on the phone yesterday with some dude in Bangladesh, in order to send my laptop to be repaired in Texas. Go figure.

I had a notice from the Municipal Code Enforcement Division yesterday. They want the dead tree that is hovering over our house cut down immediately, or at the very lest within the next 15 days. My landlord is already murmuring about it being dead but not 'dry' dead and speculating that it might have been killed 3 years after it died by the spray the nursery (that we payed) used to kill the poison ivy. *sigh* Why can't anything ever be easy?

We are approaching the weekend. I'm not sure if I should anticipate this time with the children or dread it. Usually, I love the weekends because I have them home, but, as of late, tempers are running high between my boys. *sigh*

I am thinking about cleaning myself up and putting on make-up to go to a free beer tasting event tonight. I will probably not go. I hate going alone, almost as much as I hate being with strange people...which would rather defeat the purpose, right? Except for the beer. I love beer.

Double '0' Mom and other stuff

2010-02-18T09:31:00.000-08:00

I came downstairs last night to find my son hovering over the computer screen trying to keep me from being able to see what was on it. I let him have his privacy, I walked in the kitchen and fixed a cup of tea before telling him it was bedtime. Immediately after he went upstairs I did what any good [spy] mother would do. I checked our browser history. He was busy googling, "teen sexual health/is my penis normal?" The silver lining? It wasn't porn. On the cloud side? I haven't any idea how to handle this. How long can I procrastinate? How much time can I buy myself? Ugh! Is there any way I could hit rewind? Go back a year to explaining that 'antiperspirant' doesn't go on your forehead even though your forehead does indeed perspire?

In other news, my daughter's teacher wanted to ask my aunt to listen to her students read and to mark their mistakes. I am pretty stressed about this because I'm afraid that she couldn't do it. I think my aunt has one of the biggest hearts around, and there is no doubt that she would enrich the lives of the children she interacts with. She is not however, a very advanced reader herself. She has a learning disability that she had to overcome, and she is quite amazing for having done so. I'm not sure though, that she is a fast enough reader to keep up with my daughter's classmates.

I am very conflicted about all of this. Advice is welcome.

Let's shake on it, okay?

2010-02-17T16:35:00.000-08:00

Random crap before I begin this post...

Monica, your comment about my sarcasm flattered the heck out of me. Thanks. *blushing*

I am drinking my husband's beer because I'm too lazy to move his to the back of the fridge, to pull my Newcastle up front. How sad is that? If I hadn't been too embarrassed to actually buy him Coors, I would have dredged up the motivation. As it is, I bought him Stella, which as lagers go, isn't that bad, so I'm making do. He asked for Coors, he wanted Coors, and I would have died of humiliation if someone I knew saw me buying Coors, so I didn't. What kind of beer snob am I? The kind that snorts coffee up her nose when the guy at her supermarket admits they have a bottle of Utopias on the premises. It has been over two years since I've gotten a bottle of that...not that I'm counting.

Thanks to all of you for sharing your thoughts on displays of affection. It was appreciated.

Without further stalling, here is my take on love and affection.

The truth is, I am not comfortable with physical displays of affection, unless they are initiated by canines or small children. I can easily tell you the last few people who have hugged me, outside of my immediate family. Four of which work at my grocery store, and the last works at the animal shelter I adopted my girls from...and we are talking about the last year, almost two years here.

At best, I am a one armed, keep my personal space intact, hugger. At my worst, I stiffen up like a body in full rigor mortis and cringe. I don't want to be like this. I wish I could be a touchy-feely type gal, especially for my children, alas, I am not. Don't get me wrong, I hug and kiss my children. I enjoy getting to cuddle with them. In a crowded shopping mall I like slipping my arm through my husband's.

Was I not hugged enough as a child? Oh, yes I was. Perhaps too much. My mom is very affectionate. It thoroughly annoys her that I get skeeved out by physical contact. So, why am I the way I am? Who knows?

What I can say with certainty, is that I feel very affectionately about many people, but, unless they can interpret the warmth in my heart and my hand shake, they would never know. If ever we should meet bloggy pals...look, but, don't touch! Except for you Heather Lynn, for you I'll know to brace myself.

Affection...the touchy-feely factor

2010-02-17T09:31:00.000-08:00

Recently, I was called out on a blog I read about how comfortable I am with showing, and being shown, affection. So, today's post is two fold. First, I want you guys to tell me how affectionate you are, or are not. Then, I want you to tell me, if you have an opinion one way or the other, if I strike you as 'touchy-feely' sort of gal.

I am pretty interested in this topic, because this is one area of my life in which I have genuinely tried to change a bit. So, please tell me about yourselves, and I'll come back and weigh in with what I think is an honest introspective on my part, and a real post on the subject.

I can't say anything nice, so, what a great time for THIS

2010-02-16T16:21:00.000-08:00

All day today I racked my brains for something nice to say here, because, to tell you all the truth, this past weekend really sucked. I came up with zilch, a short amusing anecdote about my son demanding eggs, just so you all would know I was alive. Still, I have nothing nice to say, but, I do have something I want to talk about.

Jen over at Diagnosis: Urine is talking about race today. She is pondering the hills and valleys of moral and philosophical parenting. She has a daughter who is 6, maybe 7 now, who is wondering why only black people have a month dedicated to their history, and why white people haven't done enough good things to earn a month of their own yet. I'll admit it, I laughed. It wasn't just cute and funny, it was beautiful. A child's innocence is innately beautiful in my eyes.

She also has one of her twin boys who doesn't think he likes dark skinned people. She is really worried about this. Honestly, I don't mean to make light of her concern, because I've been there. It was several years ago with my oldest child. He went through a phase where he became acutely aware of the differences in people and what attributes made him unique. It started with outward differences, and progressed to wanting to learn about his heritage and all of the different cultures it is comprised of. It was very stressful and scary for me as a parent at that time though. The fear that I had somehow screwed up, and that my child wouldn't be the loving, accepting child I wanted him to be.

One of the differences between my situation and Jen's, is that my son disliked white people. Now, I want to point out that this period in time was immediately after 09/11 and my son, a mere baby (four year old) at the time, took a lot of shit at the Baptist school he was enrolled in at the time. He and my neighbor's children (their last name was Abdullah) all took a lot of shit. They were made a spectacle of during a speech from a visiting pastor, trying to explain to the children at school what happened on 09/11 and why it happened. The situation, like many when race and prejudice become involved, was a cluster fuck.

My husband and I stressed that it wasn't okay to judge other people. Care about the person, not their skin/hair/eyes/Gods...show respect, but, let your heart guide your emotions. In short, we did the best we felt we were able to do to explain the situation...and then we backed away. We outlined what our expectations for his behavior were, and assured him that he could feel whatever it was he was feeling as long as he stayed within our expectations of good manners and respect. After a couple of months, his fascination faded. He doesn't remember it now, if he does he gives no indication, and his own friends are a group so diverse that I am certain we did the right thing.

My own feelings about race were influenced by my parents. I remember being at the zoo as a child and seeing a black man kiss a white woman, I remember how uncomfortable it made my mother. I remember feeling from my mother's reaction that there was something very wrong about it. It is easy to think of my father's roots. The Southern Baptist stronghold his family came from. The very thinly veiled prejudice against dark skinned people. My parents always said the right words (almost, always) but, words can have an emptiness about them. I ended up marrying a Muslim from Iran.

While I won't lie and say that it didn't hurt to hear my son say that he hated me because I was white. I will say that nobody ever told me that parenting would be easy, or that I would ever have all the right answers. I'm glad that time has passed for us. I'm grateful that I have that badge on my motherhood sash, because I learned from it, and I grew from the experience...just like my son.

Tell me how you dealt with this situation with your own family. Let me know at what age you encountered this issue. I'm curious. I want my children to make their own decisions. I want them to grow unfettered by their mother's beliefs. I want them to believe in the principles they choose to be guided by and to know why they believe in them.

Send your hate mail to me, and your encouraging words to Jen.

The glamour, which is my life.

2010-02-16T08:59:00.001-08:00

Hercules: Mommy, I want a snack.

Me: What would you like? We have bananas, apples, applesauce, crackers?

Hercules: No, I want two eggs scrambled. Make sure they are well done, please Mommy.

Apparently I've turned into a short order cook without realizing it. That child was dead serious. I thought he was playing until he returned a few minutes later wanting to know where his eggs were.

Bubble Bobble...if you search cheat codes, Google laughs at you

2010-02-12T15:58:00.000-08:00

The game Bubble Bobble has ruined my life. Really. I know that those of you who know me on Facebook are saying, "That's Farmville, Viv." Nope, it's Bubble Bobble, the ancient game for Nintendo NES that I downloaded thinking it would be simple enough for my three year old to play on the Wii, and it is. Except, when he starts losing, he pauses the game and demands that you beat the levels for him. Sadly, he is only good up to about level 6. After that, he beats me over the head with the Wii controller that must have that soft silicone sleeve for just this reason. Maybe not just this reason, it makes a mean teething toy for a baby...just as interesting as car keys and more sanitary...because you can boil them. It seems I've fallen a little off my topic of conversation here, if you are wondering where I am, I'm not making grand plans for Valentine's Day, I'm sucking at a 20+ year old video game, that I can now remember not liking back in the day. I know you all are jealous. If I weren't me, I would be jealous too.

Okay, so I have to go call my sister now to let her know that my son found a manta ray on Facebook so she can adopt it and add it to her Fishville tank...and you guys thought *I* was bad? I've created a monster. Just kidding Sis, you know the kids uber love you for being the 'cool' one.

This is not an episode of your favorite show

2010-02-09T12:21:00.000-08:00

***Proud Family Public Service Announcement***

Proud Children, please be informed that we do not live in an episode of Caillou...we CHANGE our clothes everyday.

Thank you,

The Mgmt (your loving but irritated mother)

My seven year old has now done this two weeks in a row...put the same clothes on that he took off the night before...and he wore them to school again. Why? Why would a child do this? He has an entire closet full of clean clothes. He had an outfit picked out by me, hanging in the front. So what is the reason here? After last week when I honestly didn't notice what he had done, until his sister ratted him out, I've been much more committed to scoping him out in the mornings. So, I asked him why? "It was easier Mom, my clothes were right next to my bed, and I didn't even get them dirty yesterday...or today!" My next question was why I didn't notice. "I put my jacket on before I came downstairs so you wouldn't see." Aaaaarrrrrggghhhh!!! What is up with boys?

Last Friday he wore a pair of his brother's jeans to school...and I didn't notice that either. They were two sizes too small, which translated to him not needing a belt and being prepared for a flood at the same time. I need sleep. Sleep would help me hone my skills to detect such wardrobe treachery. Then again, if I were to ponder this on a well rested, sharp mind, it might bother me even more than it does now. For the present, I've warned him that I'll elect for him to wear a uniform if I catch him at it again. Grrrr....

Sunday, Super Bowl Sunday

2010-02-08T06:24:00.000-08:00

Last night's game was fantastic. I am still mourning for Dallas, but, I have to hand it to the Saints. Just about everyone thought the Colts would win, but, the Saints brought it and won. Yay! Who doesn't love an underdog? Colts fan, you say? Screw 'em. Just kidding, it was a phenomenal game.

Yesterday, before the game, I cracked the whip over small children, who STILL haven't done the chores I asked them to complete over two weeks ago. Standing over them drill sergeant like is effective just as long as I don't have anything else to do, like...laundry, dinner, baths, ironing, cleaning. Last night I had to start dinner, and as soon as I walked away, they were done trying. *grrr* Nice, doesn't work. Mean, doesn't work. Rewards short of a trip around the world aren't effective. Punishments short of death and dismemberment aren't effective either. How do you all get and keep your children motivated? Tell me! Tell me, please!

Today I am cleaning up 'Tornado Proud Children' that ripped through my living room last night while I was too involved in the game to notice. Yes, I do let my children stay up to watch the Super Bowl if they want to, but, I make them go to bed on time on election nights, so it all balances out. They took full advantage last night, but, my seven year old grabbing my hands and jumping up and down screaming, "We won! We Won! We so brought it, and we WON!!!" Made the whole thing worth it.

Last night I was really enamored with The Who and their halftime performance. I think I even posted on FB about it. This morning on the radio in the car, the morning show guy, who apparently also posted about The Who on FB last night, saying they sucked, replayed the audio...for all of the now sober Super Bowl revelers this morning. *ahem* I hate to admit to being wrong, but, I was wrong. While I think that the difference in audio quality between my television and my car stereo probably had something to do with the drastic difference...wowza. I do however stand by my declaration that they were heads above The Stones and Paul...they were impressive to watch, but, not totally on key...and I'm, uh, tone deaf.

Finally, I leave you with this...it was way past bedtime and I was ready to hit the hay, my daughter sleeps in my bed, and the conversation went like so...

Me: "Hey there TLL, do you want to go to bed with me?"

TLL: "Yes! Yay, yay, yay! I get to go to bed with you" She laughed, smiled, and tugged me up the stairs.

BB: "I'll bet you're not used to that level of excitement. Don't get used to it, she'll outgrow it soon."

Now, I don't know if my 12 year old son meant this as off color humor, and I don't plan to ask, but, ouch!

Just call me Rip

2010-02-06T06:27:00.000-08:00

Good morning! Guess what I did last night? I slept. For seven and a half hours, during which, I only had to get up three times. I feel so much better this morning than I have in a very long time. It was wonderful.

Right now, my one year old is screaming, I'm washing sheets from my bed as the same one year old opened her diaper tabs and wet it, twice, last night. Still, I'm smiling! Sleep is such an unbelievably wonderful thing.

Do any of you believe in life after death, as in rebirth? I'm not quite there yet, but, just in case, I would like to let it be known that I want to come back as a koala bear. They sleep like 23 hours a day, and spend the other hour munching on eucalyptus leaves which make them high. Screw being rich and famous, put me in a temperature controlled zoo somewhere, thank you very much!

Don't look inside my head, it isn't pretty

2010-02-04T17:13:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted in a couple of days, so where have I been? I've been home. Stressing. I am very badly in need of a few hours of uninterrupted rest. I think I've slept roughly 2 hours out of the last 48. I can barely function. I have double vision, a splitting headache, dizziness, and about four more loads of laundry to nurture my failing washer and dryer through.

My children brought home their report cards. My oldest child managed to keep his grades up with A's and B's, with a single C in Home Ec, not surprising given his proclivity to never wash anything...ever. LB brought home his first straight A report card, and JB brought home Honor Roll grades. I am pretty pleased.

My husband is still down South stressing over his job. I am still up here worrying about things over which I have no control, but, I seem unable to stop myself.

I am maudlin. Depressed, maybe. I can't do anything about it right now, so, I'm going to push forward. Talking to a doctor would require finding one. Then I would have to be comfortable enough to discuss my health. I'm just not there, not yet.

Everything seems to be slipping out of my grasp as of late. I think it probably centers around extreme exhaustion, both mental and physical. There isn't an end in sight, unless you are counting 18 years until I send my Baby Girl off to college.

My life right now is just unspeakably hard. I am alone and lonely. It is one thing to be single and alone. You can go out and meet someone, if you are alone, it is by choice. Married and alone is different. It's worse. I guess I am acutely aware of this as Valentine's Day approaches and I find myself looking forward to watching Fran Drescher host The Nanny, for the week on Nick. My husband shares a house with his landlord and her daughter, if he is without adult company, it is because he chooses to be, and he most assuredly doesn't get where I'm coming from. After all, he gets to spend his weekends out shopping with his landlord???

I am having a difficult time accomplishing anything at the house. I am trying to paint, but, it is nearly impossible with the babies and H demanding my constant attention. I also can't clean, or do anything really, unless I am willing to listen to one or more of them cry uncontrollably for my attention. I can recall the days that I would watch the clock, waiting until my husband came home so I could fold laundry, or take a shower. I don't bother thinking about it now, "he'll be home in six weeks," doesn't have the same ring as, "he'll be home by six."

I have three of my six who seem to be coming down with a cold, and my ears are starting to itch. Fun times are in store for us I do believe.

An ode to, the messes you can make, if only you try

2010-02-02T11:40:00.000-08:00

It was funny really, I saw that the subject of Knucklehead's blog off this week was Dr. Seuss and I said, "no flipping way," I could do that. Then I saw one of my FaceBook friends and fellow bloggy moms comment about rewriting Dr. Seuss to better reflect life with children...and I thought, now THAT I can do.

You can think up some messes.

That's what you can do.

You can think about sticky

or think about glue.

You can think about wet.

You can think about slick.

You can think up an ick.

Oh, the messes you can think!

Oh the messes you can think up if only you try!

If you try, you can think up a juice cup dripping by.

And you don't have to stop.

You can think about glop.

Glop. Gloop. Poop.

Nasty glop that you'll set your bottle on top.

You can think about legos.

You can think about Eggos.

You can play a long time with eggos in legos.

You can think about Kevin in the Home Alone movie.

All the havoc he wreaked that you find so groovy.

Think of red markers.

Think of the white wall.

Think up a plan.

Think of how loudly your mother will bawl.

You can think about night, a night when you're up.

The adults are asleep but the three babies are up.

You can think about day, the very next day for God's sake.

Mother's eyes are bleary but you'll make sure she stays awake.

Destroy! Destroy and break. Ruin and destroy.

How many spilled gallons will an indoor lake make?

You can wonder...

How many pages of this book can I chew

before my mother turns blue?

There are so many messes that a toddler can make!

Would you dare drop this special ring in the toilet and flush?

And what would you do if you mother began to cry boo-hoo?

Oh the messes you can make!

Think of the soda, when if dropped just right,

will spurt out of the can and splatter all over the ceiling fan,

we do this once each day- and on Saturdays, twice.

Messes! You can make any mess that you can think...

Think of a puddle of pee on the floor,

in which puddle of pee stands me!

Think of your sister's kite.

Think of tangling those strings with all your might.

Think of your grin when Sissy sees her plight.

Think! Think up a mess.

Think up a pile of broken rubble

On which you can pour that whole thing of bubbles.

And litter! Think of litter.

And think about how spilling it makes your mother so bitter.

Why is it that tons of litter makes your mother grimace and act so bitter?

And why is it that so many things can't be set right?

You can think about that until Saturday night.

Think spills and think slicks

and think goo and think goop.

Oh, the messes you can think up if only you try!

Am I even your mother?

2010-02-01T18:58:00.000-08:00

Often I find myself lamenting my oldest daughter's lack of appreciation for the art of sarcasm, after all, it may be my finest virtue. Just when I am about to give up on her, she comes through. Last night, the baby was fussing, and I was talking to her, trying to calm her down, "such a sleepy baby," I cooed, "you're just tired, you want to go to sleepy, but, you just don't know how."

At that point, Jelly Bean pushed past me rolling her eyes. "If that is the problem, let me help you out. Baby Girl, you close your eyes, shut your mouth, and lay down." Then she looked at me, "now she knows how to go to sleep...I'm sure that knowledge will help."

On one hand she was sassy, and I probably should have reminded her to mind her manners a bit better, but, I was too busy pumping my fist in the air to celebrate. That's my girl!

A trip down my memory lane

2010-01-30T19:37:00.000-08:00

Okay, I'm feeling kind of nostalgic all of a sudden. As a result, you guys are going to be treated to a few stories from my my past. There will be plenty in these stories to offend, but, I think they are pretty hysterical. Read at your own risk.

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Once upon a time, what feels like a bajillion years ago, I worked third shift at a gas station. I loved that job. It was the craziest retail job I've ever held, and I've pretty much done it all. I started out in a department store, went management, and hated it, because there were too many factors outside of my control in an operation that large. I put in my resume with a company that has a large chain of convenience stores because a friend of mine was working in one of them, and her job rocked....I wore pantyhose, heels, and had dry cleaning....she wore jeans, sneakers, and a smile. I got the job, and I rocked it.

The nightly drama was freaking awesome. The witching hour, otherwise known as after alcohol sales cease, is very entertaining. The strippers, hookers, cab drivers, and police officers comprised the majority of our clientele. I have a wicked sense of humor, but, it is dry and a tad bitchy. That shift was better than anything else I've ever seen for comedic value.

It was around three in the morning when a very drunk woman and her guy stumbled in. She was a redhead, and I had her pegged as a dancer from the moment she tripped in. I turned them down for alcohol, and they were pretty good natured about it. The woman crooked her finger at me, "I wanna show you some'in," she slurred. I figured she was trying to give me money to sell them the beer, so I stayed put.

"Oh, you want me to show you over there?" She walked over to the counter and threw her stiletto pump clad foot, up on my counter. She was wearing a short skirt without panties. "See," she carolled, fingering two tiny silver hoops, "I just got my clit pierced tonight, aren't they pretty? Do you want to touch them?"

No, no I did not. Though, I did make my district manager listen to this story. At the point where he turned scarlet and covered his ears, I threatened to show him the security tape instead.

*The guy she was with then, ending up being one of my best friends, though, the first time I heard, "I'm In Love With a Stripper," I knew it would forever be my ringtone for his number.

***********************

It was bright and early in the morning and I was working, my shift was drawing to a close. I was just waiting for enough change so I could make my deposit. A hooker walked in the door. She was wearing a black lace shirt and skirt, completely see through, with nothing underneath, and dollar store flip flops. She had a large army bag over her shoulder.

My motto was live and let live, but, her behaviour was hinky, not doped up, just shifty. I watched her walk up and down the aisles throwing items in her bag. When she finally hit the register area, she asked for an ice cup. I gave it to her and watched her fill it, when she returned to the register to pay for her $.10 cup, I asked if she was planning to pay for the rest of her stuff.

She freaked. She threw the dime at me and started to run. I jumped the counter, a feat I still can't figure out how I managed, and I took off after her. After about a block, I was close enough to grab the strap on the bag. I wasn't letting go, and neither was she. We ran a mile and a half like that, until she finally dragged me out into the middle of traffic. There must have been three cabs following us, with their blinkers on, when the police finally showed up.

The officer's first words were, "why are you ladies fucking up traffic?" Half of the stuff she had ripped off from my store (and a dozen others on the same street) she had tossed into the bushes as we ran, but the ice cup she paid for? They had to put that on the roof of the control car when they cuffed her.

**************************

Back in the day, before most gas stations were equipped with electronic gear that measures the height of gas in the holding tanks, we had a very special way of obtaining that information...we would sprinkle baby powder on a very long stick, where the powder remained, we marked the height of the gas.

I was sticking the tanks when I saw a guy running out the door with a cheeseburger in his mouth and two cases of beer under his arms. It was quite obvious he was stealing it. He looked me dead in the eye, "don't you fucking try and stop me bitch," he screamed, as he ran past my gas stick, I picked it up off the ground, and 'accidentally' crushed his balls with it. The 'get away' car dragged him for a half a block before they were able to haul him into the car. He got away with half the cheeseburger, he dropped the beer and bit off the other half of the burger when I made contact with the family jewels.

People like that don't need to reproduce anyway.

**************************

It was another early morning when a girl walked in, obviously rolling. "Don't judge me!" She shouted over and over as I watched her pick up her necessities. A bag of hard candy, a bottle of gatorade, and a Vick's inhaler. When she hit the counter she pulled a five dollar bill out of her purse. When I unrolled it...powder flew everywhere.

I handed her the change. "Are you just going to leave all that there," I asked, I thought sarcastically, "you must have enough for another line." She surveyed the counter, and slipped her ID out of her pocket and began scraping the dust into a neat little line...turning the key pad for debit cards over so that the powder that had settled there too, would fall on the counter. "Hey," she said, "lemme hold that bill I just gave you for a minute."

***************************

Finally, I leave you with this one. After all of the above incidents, the one that I found myself in trouble for was innocent. A police officer was in the store, as was customary on his shift, when it was quiet, he would wander in to shoot the shit.

The topic of the night was tattoos. "I have an amazing tiger tattoo," he said.

"Really? I do too!" I enthused.

"Well, where is yours?" he wanted to know. I told him it was on my chest, and he acknowledged that his was in the same place. He pulled at his vest, "can you see it?" I couldn't though.

He started to unbutton his shirt and proceeded to take off his vest so I could see his ink. I was in shock, his tat and mine were just about identical, though on different scales. I unbuttoned half of my shirt and undid the clasp on my bra so that I could, somewhat demurely, show him my tattoo.

At that point, I walked around the counter and started to stock the cooler, and he followed me, chatting more about tattoos as I got some work done. Show and tell was over.

I thought nothing of it until they gave me a written reprimand...turns out there weren't any cameras in the back of the store, and when two people walk off camera after beginning to undress, the obvious conclusion isn't a shared love of all things feline...or maybe it is.

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Thanks for putting up with my stroll down memory lane. I hope I haven't embarrassed you, and that at least a couple of you chuckled. I for one am glad that I finally wrote these things down, when I'm old(er) and gray(er) it will be nice to look back and laugh, because truth is always stranger than fiction.

Me and my temper, temper

2010-01-29T17:21:00.000-08:00

Tonight after dinner, I took my 7 year old on a walk to the gas station up the street to buy candy. Not only is candy usually forbidden, but this stuff was the non organic variety...ooooohhh. I did decide though, that we would walk, burn off a couple of calories before we ate any.

The walk there, about 10 minutes and mostly uneventful, on the walk home however, I lost my temper. Not with my son, but, rather some daft bimbo who couldn't understand why the car in front of her wasn't making a right turn...so she jumped the curb and nearly ran us over. As she was screaming expletives at me, I lost it. I shocked my son by responding, "it's a fucking crosswalk, and you're supposed to yield." Frankly I was kinda proud I kept it to a minimum...sorta, because the blood was roaring in my ears and I was reminded of another time that I was that upset and angry.

Several years ago, I was at a bar with a few of my co-workers. I ended up sitting across the bar from a rather obviously shit faced guy and his slightly more sober buddy. He sent me a couple of drinks. I sent the bartender over with instructions to reciprocate, thank, and not allow any more to be sent. Obviously, Dude confused my polite 'buzz off' with playing hard to get. He walked around the bar and sat down next to me. I got up and moved. Twice. He followed.

Finally, he made a grab for me, and I swatted him away. Being seriously drunk, and leaning back, so that his stool was on two legs, put him at a serious disadvantage, and my little push was all he needed to go down. He smacked his face on the foot rest around the bar and broke his nose. He got up swinging. I ducked and he crashed into the bar, hard enough that it looked like his jaw was broken.

Various and sundry people responded to the call, and he was somewhat patched up. He maintained that I had hit him, which I did...sorta. Finally it came down to one question, "do you want to press charges," they asked him.

"No, what are you fucking kidding me? My wife'll fucking kill me."

I am pretty sure that was the last time I was even close to being as angry as I was with that woman tonight.

This makes me sad

2010-01-29T09:54:00.000-08:00

An old friend of mine is going through an extremely difficult time right now. I've been following through her status updates on FaceBook. She has two daughters and while I knew that she was divorced, I didn't know that her ex husband is from India.

Apparently, he sought passports for their daughters, for which they have 50/50 custody. He was granted the right to obtain the passports from a judge in their county. She is panicked that her husband will take the children and never come back. Rightly so it seems, her latest posts are about Indian law in regard to international parental child abduction...as in it isn't a crime there. Can you imagine?

Maybe this hits home for me more deeply than some, as my husband is from Iran, and we have all seen the Sally Field movie. While, I know now that my husband would *never* do this...I'm not sure I would have been able to say this with as much confidence when I was younger, dumber, and blinded by love.

As it were, several years ago we hit a rough patch, and separated for a time. I recall someone asking me if I was afraid he would run away with our children. I remember laughing, pretty hysterically at the time and saying, "the only way I think he would go back to Iran is if the judge granted him anything more than supervised visitation...and then he would run to get away from the children." Which really isn't a dig at my husband, he would tell you the same thing if you asked him. My husband is a very loving father, but our children scare the hell out of him, and exhaust him, the latter probably influencing the former.

Anyway, the moral of the story is this? How can you protect the rights of both parents where conflicting interests is a problem?

Three reasons why I shouldn't be allowed to think

2010-01-27T17:14:00.000-08:00

Those of you who play FarmVille, on FaceBook, did you notice the big BBQ grill you can now buy in honor of the culmination of the football season? Does it not feel strange to put that grill next to your dairy farm? I did it anyway.

Last night, I broke down and asked my kids if they had any candy stashed away. My son said that he had just eaten the last forbidden Milky Way, but, he asked if I wanted him to go to the store before heading to the bus stop today to get me one. I said no, and that he was absolutely not allowed to cross our street. He claimed our street isn't very busy. I reminded him the high school kids around here, drive like bats out of hell. "There aren't any high school kids on our street," he said, "you're the only one who looks like they could be a high school kid around here." Send me some positive vibes people, because now that I have a child that realizes careful flattery of the people who matter, makes all the difference...I'm in trouble.* what movie am I referencing here ???

I have corrupted my sister. She sent me an email today asking me to feed her fish in FishVille on FB this afternoon, because she would be at work. It was just what I needed this morning, to start my day with a smile. Those games are like crack people...LIKE CRACK!

9-5 material I am not...updated

2010-01-26T08:08:00.000-08:00

Lately my husband's job situation has become quite tenuous again. I've decided that I don't care, which of course isn't true. I care a lot, being uninsured again scares the hell out of me. Ditto to starving to death. However, if he lost his job, he would most likely have to come home. Then, I further fantasized, to keep my panic attacks at bay, that if he came home, he could collect unemployment, and I could go back to work, thereby giving myself the vacation I so richly deserve.

There are only a few flaws with this plan. After thinking about it pretty seriously, I have no desire to return to a professional job. I am a classic overachiever in my work life, I've never put in a 40 hour week unless I was seriously ill. 80-90 hours a week is about the average of where that bar was set. I don't miss my job. I miss interacting with people, I miss the way it challenged me. The job itself sucked. No, if it came right down to it, I might be willing to look for a bartending gig, two or three days a week...but, not a real job...unless it were an absolute last resort.

Even if I take my feelings for the workforce out of the equation, there is the fact that my husband is not homemaker material. He doesn't do laundry, only does dishes under duress and badly at that, he has a tendency to forget about our children, and has never...in the 15 years we've been together...used a mop or a vacuum cleaner. Leaving him in charge would be an invitation for disaster, perhaps death by salmonella poisoning, or even suffocation via dust. Not a good idea at all.

I had someone approach me, that I used to work for, testing my waters about going back to work. After some soul searching, the answer is unequivocally, emphatically...NO!

***********************

And, after even further thought, the greatest part of my job right now (apart from my kids, of course) is being able to waste valuable time deciding which actor should play which character in a movie from a book that isn't even being made, and being accountable only to myself for taking time out for frivolous fun.

What is observational humor anyway?

2010-01-25T08:01:00.000-08:00

Observational humor? Crikey, that sounds like I want to duck out of my unofficial commitment to unofficially play along with Homemaker Man in Knucklehead's Bloggy Idol. I won't duck out though, because I can't fall any flatter than I did with my parody, that apparently nobody could come up with something nice to say about. So...here goes.

Is it just me, or does it always happen that when you venture out in public when you're slumming, you are bound to run into people that you haven't seen in years? If I leave the house in my 'cleaning clothes' I can almost guarantee that I will run into the guy I dated in high school, the one that has heard that I have six kids, but, is now sure of it...because damn don't I look like it right about now?

Just yesterday, I ran to the grocery in my toilet cleaning garb. I stood in line thinking, "that sure looks like my best friend's little sister," in front of me in line. *My bonus blast photo, the one of me in the red dress and, yes WME, choker was the last time I remember seeing her* So, I wondered if I should ask. Then I remembered that not only could my hairspray not be located that morning, but, I was wearing a ratty, holey tee shirt. So, I convinced myself that couldn't have been her. Last night, I was on FaceBook, and she posted to my wall, asking if I had been at Whole Foods. Yes, I admitted that I had been there, but, hadn't been sure if it was her, so I didn't say anything. When I asked her why she didn't give me a shout out, her reply was, "I wasn't really looking my best, so I thought it would be cool if you didn't recognize me." Heh. My kinda girl, huh?

When I do take my time, apply make up, and wear something that could be construed as mildly attractive...who do I ever run into that knows me? Worse than nobody, I'll run into my grandmother or another member of the family wondering why in the hell my old ass, with six kids, needs to be parading around the drug store like a hooker.

So, why do I pull clothes out of my 'bar tending' collection? Because, the last damn time I was there, I saw HIM, or HER (my high school arch rival) and I would like to show off the good things I got out of gaining 40 pounds and having six kids...my tits. I would like them to take back the pity f#*k comment, or the palpable relief that they don't have kids, and never will...now. But, the next time I see them? I'll be wearing sweat pants and a Disney tee shirt...so they won't have to. Curse all the bad luck. What the hell is up with this, you all know what I'm talking about, right? Please tell me that you have been there too.

The Disillusionment Post

2010-01-22T20:13:00.000-08:00

I'm bummed, blue, down in the dumps, sad, out of sorts...whatever you want to call it. I have spent the last couple of days trying to get back on the horse, so to speak. I've tried reading my Janet Evanovich books, the one where Stephanie sleeps with Ranger, twice. I've watched 8 Mile and ogled Art Alexakis courtesy of YouTube. I stayed in my PJs, drinking Mountain Dew (so forbidden here at my house) while watching The Nanny all day. Nothing. Nothing has helped.

Then, in a conversation, it came up that Robert DeNiro is short. WTF? No!!! I couldn't accept that, I mean, in my fantasies, I can wear heels when I'm with him. It was so unfair. I wanted to cry.

Then I got to thinking. How many other objects of my lustful affection aren't as tall in life as they are in my mind? Well, I'll tell you, because if I'm going to be disillusioned, so the hell will all of you. Eminem? He is 5'8" so is it any wonder that 8 Mile sucked at making me happy? Art Alexakis is 5'10" which is better. Robert DeNiro is five feet, nine and a half inches...I guess I could wear low heels, but, not being able to bring out the FMPs will be a serious downer in my dreams. Finally though, I came across Charles Shaugnessy...who is just a half inch shy of that six foot marker. Guess who just replaced Robert DeNiro as my number one?

So, why am I tripping over the fact that these famous men that I'll never meet aren't tall? Surely it must be because I hear all the time how much I look like Mariah...NOT. I guess the reason is, because I'm not dead...yet. I may still be the first person to die from sleep deprivation though, the night is still young, and so are my children.

I leave you now to succumb to the lilting sound of the Brit's voice calling from the television upstairs.

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Updated:

If you are wondering what is up (no pun intended) with my height issues...it is pretty simple. Just about everyone I'm related to is short. This is in and of itself not much of a big deal. Unless you spend years as the headless Amazon in photos. After a few decades of being surrounded by people that make you feel like Hagrid amongst the students of Hogwarts, you start to really appreciate being around taller people, because they make you feel little and dainty...and that is a welcome change indeed.

I love short people, don't get me wrong...but, in my fantasies, I am *not* headless.

I got this as an email today...it was something I needed to see

2010-01-22T09:30:00.000-08:00

I don't care if you lick windows,

take the special bus or occasionally pee on yourself.

You hang in there, sunshine - you're friggin' special.

Every sixty seconds you spend angry, upset or mad,

is a full minute of happiness you'll never get back.

Today's Message of the Day is:

Life is short, Break the rules, forgive quickly, kiss slowly, Love truly,

Laugh uncontrollably, and never regret anything that made you smile.

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we're here, we should dance.

The big baby sitting dilemma

2010-01-20T06:30:00.000-08:00

Recently, I've been doing some poking around to try and find out about the babysitting rules and regulations in our area, because I think my son is ready. My son is far more trustworthy than most of the adult sitters we've tried. He won't allow dietary infractions for Hercules. He and my youngest two are bonded thicker than thieves. He knows where everything is. He can handle just about any situation like a pro...or at least, just like I would. He has his red cross certification. He is dependable and responsible. I, uh, won'tleavemyhusbandhomealonewiththekidsunlessmy oldestsonisheretoo...there, I said it.

So what are the rules? There are none. Our state doesn't specify an age. I'm chewing this one over, making my little pro/con list. So far, the only thing in the 'con' column is that he sure seems kinda young. Looking back, I worked as a mother's helper the summer I turned 10. The following year I started babysitting in earnest.

If I ask myself (WWMDD) what Mama Duggar would do, I can totally justify this. The jury is still out on my decision though.

Stellar moments in parenting...example one

2010-01-19T17:36:00.000-08:00

Warning: While this post will not be explicit, it will be partly sexual in nature. Click away accordingly.

When my oldest son was around five or six, he had a favorite remote control tank. He loved that toy, but, he lost one of the treads, and without the tread the tank wouldn't operate. I arrived home one evening from work, and I found him, and his three best friends playing with the tank.

"Mom! Look Mom, I fixed my toy!" The favorite toy was presented to me for inspection. I scarcely glanced at the tank, but, congratulated my son for finding the lost part, then hurried inside to change out of my work clothes.

After I changed, I went back outside to supervise the boys playing in the yard. It wasn't long before the other mothers joined me on the front porch. We were talking when BB brought the tank to me, and pleaded with me to put the tread back on, as it had fallen off again. It wasn't until I took the tank and tread from him, that I realized that something was amiss. My precious boy and his little friends had spent the afternoon playing with that tank and the c*#k ring they had been using as an impromptu tread. Humiliation warred with relief, as I had been very aware that it had gone missing, several weeks, possibly a couple of months, prior to this incident.

I am nearly certain that none of the other mothers were wise to what had gone down, and I forced myself to put the 'tread' back on the tank and send him on his way. That night we did baths before dinner.

And Jen? Were you really worried about the Astroglide?

Bonus Blast

2010-01-19T11:55:00.001-08:00

A bonus 'Blast From the Past' photo that I came across today, on FaceBook. I am the devil with the red dress on, ahem, so to speak. I still have that dress, it is made of only the finest rayon/poly blend. Now that I have the picture, perhaps I can part with the dress.

I'm no Jackson Browne

2010-01-18T14:32:00.000-08:00

Over at Knuclehead's there is a blog off going on. Over at Homemaker Man Manor, there are unofficial entries being written to amuse us, his readers. Here at the Proud House, I couldn't help myself and I decided to chime in with a parody of my own. Here it is folks.

Ready or Not, lyrics by me

Someone's gonna have to explain it to me
I'm not sure how it happened
My baby's leaving in the morning
And he's having trouble packing up his jeans
His time away keeps getting longer
Although he always comes back home
I guess we'll reach some understanding,
When we see what the future will bring

I met him in a little restaurant,
One of those typical Italian scenes
I gave him my very best come on
And he had no trouble getting into my jeans
Then we were constant companions,
I marveled at his dignity,
Soon he told me that he loved me
And he made a home with me

My baby's leaving in the morning
He says he's got a lot on his mind
They sure didn't give me any warning
That he was gonna be gone all the time

He says he doesn't care if he never spends a
Another night on his own
He wants to be a father
Take a look in my eyes and tell me brother
does it look like I'm ready

I told him I had never lived alone
And probably never would
All I wanted was a companion
And he told me that he understood
But he wanted a new career
A dream come true of his own
Next thing I remember he was packing up
And leaving to be out on his own

My baby's leaving in the morning
He says he's got a lot on his mind
They sure didn't give me any warning
That he was gonna be gone all the time

Bless my soul he's got a new job and he's living somewhere else all alone
Bless my soul he's got a new job and he's living somewhere else all alone

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Jackson Browne's original Ready or Not

Someone's going to have to explain it to me
I'm not sure what it means
My baby's feeling funny in the morning
She's having trouble getting into her jeans
Her waist-line seems to be expanding
Although she never feels like eating a thing
I guess we'll reach some understanding
When we see what the future will bring

I met her in a crowded barroom
One of those typical Hollywood scenes
I was doing my very best Bogart
But I was having trouble getting into her jeans
I punched an unemployed actor
Defending her dignity
He stood up and knocked me through that barroom door
And that girl came home with me

Now baby's feeling funny in the morning
She says she's got a lot on her mind
Nature didn't give her any warning
Now she's going to have to leave her wild ways behind
She says she doesn't care if she never spends
Another night running loose on the town
She's gonna be a mother
Take a look in my eyes and tell me brother
If I look like I'm ready

I told her I had always lived alone
And I probably always would
And all I wanted was my freedom
And she told me that she understood
But I let her do some of my laundry
And she slipped a few meals in between
And the next thing I remember, she was all moved in
And I was buying her a washing machine

My baby's feeling funny in the morning
She says she's got a lot on her mind
Nature didn't give her any warning
But she's feeling better about it all the time
She says she's ready for some meaning
After all of her running around
Well bless my soul, she's got a rock-and-roll bandman
Thinking 'bout settling down

Blasts from the past

2010-01-14T11:58:00.001-08:00

Over at Mommy Wants Vodka, she is doing something quite fun. She posted what she believes to be some embarrassing pictures of her growing up. She challenged her readers to do the same. So, I went through some of my old photo albums to see if I embarrass me and, sure enough I do.

Let the fun begin...

Black leggings and red push socks...now, I know you are saying to yourselves, "but, Viv, it was Halloween, you're off the hook." Alas, the only components of that costume were the cape, horns, and pitchfork. For those of you with eagle eyes, you might have noticed the 'pocket rocker' on the end table...dates me just as much as those darn socks.

Halloween a few years later. Now, in my mind I was a sexy, young, French maid...in reality, I looked more like Cousin It with those bangs.

Those are me with my American cousins. I am the oldest. Can you not see that lovely swim suit on an 80 year old woman? What was wrong with me?

Further proof that I should never wear a swimsuit. That was me, swimming instead of playing tennis for my lousy half credit of gym that I pulled in my HS career. Huge neon flowers over my abdomen, really young Viv, really? I think that the button fly Calvin Klein jeans complete the ensemble well, no?

Finally, I bring you this. Me, dressed for that same half credit of tennis...WITH MY SHIRT TUCKED INTO MY ELASTIC WAIST SHORTS...and two boys I don't remember...at all.

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So, how many of you guys out there are game to do the same? Leave me the link so I can come visit and admire the skeletons in your closets!

Because I care

2010-01-14T04:54:00.000-08:00

Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to leave me a comment, or to send me an email. The last time I pleaded for people to say hello, few answered, but, this time you delighted me. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Also, more than one person pointed out that they aren't given an option to comment one my blog, if a girl is hankering for some feed back, that could sure bring her down! Have any of my other bloggy pals had issues with this, or has fate only smitten my blog?

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My children have a new resolution too, they just don't know it yet. This year they are going to have more respect for our home, their belongings, and for me. For far too long, I have allowed them slack when they would cry for their Daddy, letting it serve as an excuse for me to let things go. They are taking advantage of that. They have come to expect that it is appropriate to take advantage of me. No more.

I am tired of everything they have getting trashed. With a Tasmanian devil of a three year old, and an eighteen month old explorer, anything that is stored at any less than four feet of height, is fair game. My older children though, should recognize their obligation to care for their things. They should exhibit enough pride in their belongings to care for them appropriately, by putting and keeping them somewhere safe. No longer will I replace things that have been eaten by dogs or broken by babies.

Clothing. The laundry situation at my house is out of control, and here are a few reasons why. First and foremost, my washer has been recently 'fixed' but that 'fix' only brought about limited relief. I can only wash on the first two settings. I can no longer use the coin laundry as my crutch because my Hubby is rarely here to watch the children so that I might. My children are allergic to putting their dirty clothes in baskets, I have to unearth them from under beds, in the far back corners of closets, and in cabinets. It's ridiculous, and I'm not doing it any longer. I'll wash what makes it in the basket only.

Chores, have ceased to exist in my children's minds. They are being reinstated as of today. No chores...no play time. They will be allowed to wallow in self pity in their pigsty upstairs if they won't cooperate. Perhaps that will give them incentive to clean up. I have let them camp in my room for the last time while I pull all nighter in order to clean their stuff. I warned them last month when I did it, it appears they didn't listen. I am not going to cave.

I am tired of back talk. I have listened to the last, "what did I say that was wrong?" My children are an exceptionally bright bunch. They are not however, smarter than their mother...yet. Therefore, I am going to stop playing the fool. There is acceptable and unacceptable. They are going to recognize that I'm done with their mouthing off. Period. I have cut these children much slack because of the adjusted home situation, with Hubby being gone, but, they've had plenty of time to readjust, too much, in fact. A new leaf just turned over, and it is high time I get my children to recognize that.

My husband and I sacrifice a lot for our children. Perhaps too much. The reason that we live 350 miles apart is because the school situation would be, we feel, detrimental to them. I don't expect our children to recognize what we do and be grateful for it. I do expect that I, as their mother, shouldn't allow for them to make a difficult situation harder. Their carelessness, and irresponsibility is my job to turn around, or else, it will haunt them for the rest of their lives. What may be hard for me to do now, is a gift that they will cash in on, ten fold, in their futures. Times are changing at the Proud House. They are changing for the better.

What is this I hear?

2010-01-12T14:09:00.000-08:00

Say what? National Delurking Day? Sweet! I will let you in on a little secret, last year on Delurking Day, I commented on like two of the ten blogs I was reading at the time because I am a very shy person. Those of you who are snickering, that is the truth. I am an actress (in my mind) and there are 'stages' in my life, this blog is one of them. There are a few places where I feel comfortable, unembarrassed, and totally at home. This blog is one of those places. When on stage, I can be the person that I am normally too introverted to be. I can let the same personality that my family associates with me loose, and take command of my stage. I love it.

Do me a favor though, if you are out there reading and I don't know it. Tell me. Leave me a comment today, or email me (the link is on my profile) and say hello. I would appreciate it. I'm one of those people that has to work up the nerve to say hello to a stranger, and when they don't respond to my, "good morning," or whatever, it makes me feel terrible, please, make my day today!

Finally...I know what I want to do in 2010

2010-01-12T10:13:00.000-08:00

There are a few things that I am 'resolving' to do in 2010. Looking at the coming year, I knew that I would throw that old stand-by, 'lose weight' on my list of resolutions, but, I wanted to find some things that had more meaning to myself and to my family. I want to seriously reduce the number of convenience foods we eat. Though I do buy mostly organic foods, I've been buying mostly organic junk foods, and I want to change that. I also want to do away with snack sized packaging. Am I really so lazy as to pay triple the cost for something that I could portion out into containers? Apparently, I have been. Can't I take just a few more minutes and make my own chicken nuggets instead of paying $12 a pound for those little suckers? Yes, I can, and in 2010, that is exactly what I'm planning to do.

I'm hoping that 2010 will kick 2009's butt. That won't happen by my idly sitting around and wishing. The only way to make 2010 that great year that I've been yearning for, is to get off my rear and make it happen. I am going to put my all into being a better SAHM. With that needs to come some serious organization, and some real work on my domestic skills (think about how inept I am at cleaning and cooking) and I think that I am finally ready to rise to the challenge.

So far today, I've made two carrot cakes, one for the kids to devour after school, and another for dessert. That helped me with another dilemma that I've stressed plenty about, but, done nothing to correct...food waste. I utilized the rest of the ginormous bag of Costco carrots that I know I would have otherwise thrown away. Tonight we are having homemade chicken nuggets, carrots, and baked beans for dinner.

So here is to 2010, and me being proactive, which I don't come by easily. Good thing I've never been afraid of work.