When I first had kids I joined a mom's club. The next best thing after playgroup was MNO (Mom's Night Out). But some of us interpret that differently. I would leave, "Goodnight ladies", and then I would get a six-pack and drive to Las Trampas. I would put my feet up, sip some brew and watch the owls hunt. Then I would go home, pump and dump, and pass out. If I didn't do that, then I would take my husband's Mercedes and drive 130 mph from San Ramon to Fremont and back again, with the sun-roof open and blasting The Stones.
We traded the Mercedes in for a Honda and we both turned 40. Yuck. I had a MNO this evening and the most rebellion I could scrounge up was a trip to the local watering hole (after the mom's visit was over). The scene was ridiculous, I drank half a beer and bailed.
Is this it?
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Friday, December 3, 2010
I Support Violence Against Children
Of course I do not support violence against children. Sigh. But if you haven't been on Facebook yet today let me tell you what's going on. There is currently a campaign on Facebook right now encouraging people to change their profile pictures to a favorite cartoon character to make a stand against child abuse. Below is the status update explaining this phenomenon.
"Change your FB profile picture to a cartoon from your childhood. The goal? To
not see a single human face on FB until Monday, December 6th. Join the
fight against child abuse; copy & paste and invite your friends to
do the same."
Let me tell you why I am refusing to do this, even though the majority of my friends and family are participating in this event. I do not want to equate the cartoons of my childhood with child abuse. It disturbs me.
"The Goal? To not see a single human face.....". That is a horrible goal! Humans commit the crime of child abuse, not fictional cartoon characters.
Want to make a stand against child abuse? Put a human face on it. Not a victim's face, an offender's face.
I am not really suggesting anyone do this, but I believe it would be way more appropriate to change your profile picture to the picture of a child abuser. Maybe a picture of your own abuser. The majority of crimes against children are done by a family member or "friend".
It's a very real possibility that a lot of Facebook members have a picture of their offender. Do you want to equate that person with your favorite cartoon character? Do you want one of your friends to look at your profile picture of a cartoon and be invaded by unpleasant memories?
You can't control how another person feels or perceives, I realize that. I know that everyone who is participating in this has only the best intentions in their heart. Otherwise you wouldn't be my Facebook friend, right? I am just telling you that I feel, strongly, that refusing to participate in this particular campaign will be more effective in the long run.
What did I do today to prevent child abuse? I kept myself healthy, I talked and listened to my kids, and I took time to check in with their teachers. Think globally, but start locally.
This time of the year is supposed to be gleeful and joyous. But it can be stressful, demanding, depressing and very disappointing. Do you want to avoid child abuse? Give yourself, or a parent you know a break.
Below are some websites from people who work hard everyday to prevent child abuse and take care of victims.
Stop it Now!
First 5 California
Child Abuse Prevention Council
Child Abuse Prevention Association
I promise the next thing I write will be funny.
"Change your FB profile picture to a cartoon from your childhood. The goal? To
not see a single human face on FB until Monday, December 6th. Join the
fight against child abuse; copy & paste and invite your friends to
do the same."
Let me tell you why I am refusing to do this, even though the majority of my friends and family are participating in this event. I do not want to equate the cartoons of my childhood with child abuse. It disturbs me.
"The Goal? To not see a single human face.....". That is a horrible goal! Humans commit the crime of child abuse, not fictional cartoon characters.
Want to make a stand against child abuse? Put a human face on it. Not a victim's face, an offender's face.
I am not really suggesting anyone do this, but I believe it would be way more appropriate to change your profile picture to the picture of a child abuser. Maybe a picture of your own abuser. The majority of crimes against children are done by a family member or "friend".
It's a very real possibility that a lot of Facebook members have a picture of their offender. Do you want to equate that person with your favorite cartoon character? Do you want one of your friends to look at your profile picture of a cartoon and be invaded by unpleasant memories?
You can't control how another person feels or perceives, I realize that. I know that everyone who is participating in this has only the best intentions in their heart. Otherwise you wouldn't be my Facebook friend, right? I am just telling you that I feel, strongly, that refusing to participate in this particular campaign will be more effective in the long run.
What did I do today to prevent child abuse? I kept myself healthy, I talked and listened to my kids, and I took time to check in with their teachers. Think globally, but start locally.
This time of the year is supposed to be gleeful and joyous. But it can be stressful, demanding, depressing and very disappointing. Do you want to avoid child abuse? Give yourself, or a parent you know a break.
Below are some websites from people who work hard everyday to prevent child abuse and take care of victims.
Stop it Now!
First 5 California
Child Abuse Prevention Council
Child Abuse Prevention Association
I promise the next thing I write will be funny.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Happy Thanksgiving
I was reminded by an actual live person this morning that I have a blog. And she read it, and I think she liked it. Except for my re-post of the guest blogger. So that encouraged me to come home and, well.....instead of writing something new, due to time constraints, I am publishing a piece I know people have enjoyed. Happy Thanksgiving!
That's right, just in case you are new to this blog you may have missed the fact that I am going to go see Chelsea Handler live this weekend. No kids. Good friends, good food, potent alcohol and a night in a fancy hotel. I am not going to tell you where Chelsea is playing, what night she is playing or what hotel I am staying at..........just in case I have a stalker. I will give you a review when I come home, and after I have recovered.
Please don't waste your time getting too jealous of me. I deserve this. I adore my life, at home with my 3 kids and managing the household but I need a break sometimes to keep up my sense of humor.
This week for instance I was convinced my kids had Swine Flu. What a coincidence they would get sick after a visit from my brother and his wife who live in San Diego, right next to Swine Flu central. Fortunately it turns out to be nothing but a couple of common colds and ear infections. So I dope them up with vitamins and amoxycillin and we head to the mall.
For years I could wear the same clothes over and over again but once you hit motherhood you actually need new clothes. I am not talking about maternity clothes, that's obvious, but you actually get too big for some clothes and too small for other clothes as you lose your baby fat and don't get me started on what happens to your ever-changing shoe size. Then your kids will actually gnaw on and tear your clothing and stain your favorite outfits with who knows what. So I am not exaggerating when I say I need a couple of new outfits.
Taking a 2, 3 and 4 year old to the mall is usually one of my least favorite things to do but somebody has to do it. And the fact that I managed to find a $48 skirt for $18 is worth a little pain.
As soon as we get to Macy's Bekah and Mike find a sofa and sit down. I am stunned! I expect them to stay with me but not actually sit and behave. This is looking really good. I am super happy. Jake is in the stroller munching on Cheerios and I actually find a skirt and 2 shirts right away. My luck is improving. I ask Mike and Bekah to follow me to a different part of the store and they listen, and they stay with me.
As I rummage around looking for a pair of jeans that will make my legs look thin, I hear a voice ask, "What brand of stroller is that?". I look up and see a cute mom with 2 girls. So I tell her the brand and then she just stares at me. I recognize the look on her face. It's the please talk to me and don't make me go home by myself and be alone with small children look. I know that feeling, I don't want to abandon her in her time of need, but I am working on borrowed time here. My kids are behaving and who knows how long that's going to last. But I can't leave her. So I ask, "How far apart are your girls?" Less than 2 years apart.
I knew it. Us moms that have kids less than 2 years apart can find each other anywhere. Across a crowded room with rainbows and hearts coming out of our eyes. She didn't know that was the reason she was talking to me because she is right in the middle of it, but I knew. Her youngest is 3 months old and her oldest just turned 2 years old. Now I was torn. I had a mission, find some clothes that didn't make me look fat, feed my kids, and get home in time for naptime. But now I just found an overwhelmed mom in the mall who needs company. So I took a deep breath and talked to her for a few minutes. As soon as Jake started throwing Cheerios everywhere and trying to wipe his boogers on clothes, and Mike really wanted to kiss her sleeping 3 month old, (which is sweet but germy), and Bekah was getting jealous that I was talking to other little girls, it was time to pull the plug.
I headed to the dressing room. In the past I have grabbed clothes, bought them, and then tried them on at home, and then returned the ones that don't fit. But I am feeling brave and we get the giant dressing room that is fully enclosed so nobody can sneak under the stall walls. Macy's is having a massive sale so the dressing rooms are packed with women.
Once in the dressing room I actually let Jake out to run around since it's fully enclosed and I start to disrobe.
"Mommy, I see your panties."
"Of course you do, I just took off my pants.". I could have sworn I heard a giggle outside our stall. I take off my shirt.
"Mommy you're fat."
"Michael!"
"Mommy you're fat", Bekah chimes in, she has to do everything Michael does.
"Bekah and Michael, that's not nice."
"But Mommy you are fat." Now I can definitely hear laughing outside our dressing room.
"Ok that's enough you are lowering my self-esteem.". More snickers
"What's self-esteem?"
"You are making me feel bad about myself by calling me fat."
"But you are fat.". More laughter. Sigh.
"You are fat because you had 3 babies in your pouch." Ok somebody actually snorted. They laughed hard enough to snort.
"Like a kangaroo." Bekah chimes in.
"I didn't have 3 babies at once and it's not a pouch, it's a tummy.". And I don't care how much I work out and lose weight and do sit-ups I do, I still have a pouch of skin around my belly-button.
So now Mike takes this opportunity to grab that excess skin and try to fold it into a taco and start kissing it. And saying,
"But Mommy your tummy is so cute and soft and cuddly and you had babies inside it, mwah, mwah, mwah "(those are kissy sounds).
At this exact moment Jake realizes that the door only locks on the inside and he can leave this joint. So he turns the handle and starts to open the dressing room door,
"Noooooo!!"
I lunge at the door just in time and slam it shut with the palm of my hand. In the meantime I knock over Mike and Jake has grabbed my leg and is trying to bite me.
"Jake no biting!" Nobody is trying to hide their laughter now and I want to dissappear.
I slam the stroller in front of the door and lock all 4 brakes.
"Mommy you pushed me down!"
"I didn't push you down, I tripped over you because you were standing right on top of me!"
"Get off the floor and go sit next to your sister! Look how good Bekah is."
"She is licking the mirror."
"Bekah! Don't lick the mirror, that is disgusting!"
I have managed to get my clothes back on and Jake has figured out he can't move the stroller away from the door and he is in a screaming rage. Nobody is laughing now. I have to wrestle him back into the stroller and that is like wrestling with a midget on PCP.
I am sweating as I back the stroller out of the dressing room and nobody will look me in the eye as they all try not to laugh.
At this point I still have to buy my clothes, feed the kids, do naptime, pay work bills, clean house, laundry, dinner, bathtime and bedtime.
Do you see why I think I deserve a night out?!
That's right, just in case you are new to this blog you may have missed the fact that I am going to go see Chelsea Handler live this weekend. No kids. Good friends, good food, potent alcohol and a night in a fancy hotel. I am not going to tell you where Chelsea is playing, what night she is playing or what hotel I am staying at..........just in case I have a stalker. I will give you a review when I come home, and after I have recovered.
Please don't waste your time getting too jealous of me. I deserve this. I adore my life, at home with my 3 kids and managing the household but I need a break sometimes to keep up my sense of humor.
This week for instance I was convinced my kids had Swine Flu. What a coincidence they would get sick after a visit from my brother and his wife who live in San Diego, right next to Swine Flu central. Fortunately it turns out to be nothing but a couple of common colds and ear infections. So I dope them up with vitamins and amoxycillin and we head to the mall.
For years I could wear the same clothes over and over again but once you hit motherhood you actually need new clothes. I am not talking about maternity clothes, that's obvious, but you actually get too big for some clothes and too small for other clothes as you lose your baby fat and don't get me started on what happens to your ever-changing shoe size. Then your kids will actually gnaw on and tear your clothing and stain your favorite outfits with who knows what. So I am not exaggerating when I say I need a couple of new outfits.
Taking a 2, 3 and 4 year old to the mall is usually one of my least favorite things to do but somebody has to do it. And the fact that I managed to find a $48 skirt for $18 is worth a little pain.
As soon as we get to Macy's Bekah and Mike find a sofa and sit down. I am stunned! I expect them to stay with me but not actually sit and behave. This is looking really good. I am super happy. Jake is in the stroller munching on Cheerios and I actually find a skirt and 2 shirts right away. My luck is improving. I ask Mike and Bekah to follow me to a different part of the store and they listen, and they stay with me.
As I rummage around looking for a pair of jeans that will make my legs look thin, I hear a voice ask, "What brand of stroller is that?". I look up and see a cute mom with 2 girls. So I tell her the brand and then she just stares at me. I recognize the look on her face. It's the please talk to me and don't make me go home by myself and be alone with small children look. I know that feeling, I don't want to abandon her in her time of need, but I am working on borrowed time here. My kids are behaving and who knows how long that's going to last. But I can't leave her. So I ask, "How far apart are your girls?" Less than 2 years apart.
I knew it. Us moms that have kids less than 2 years apart can find each other anywhere. Across a crowded room with rainbows and hearts coming out of our eyes. She didn't know that was the reason she was talking to me because she is right in the middle of it, but I knew. Her youngest is 3 months old and her oldest just turned 2 years old. Now I was torn. I had a mission, find some clothes that didn't make me look fat, feed my kids, and get home in time for naptime. But now I just found an overwhelmed mom in the mall who needs company. So I took a deep breath and talked to her for a few minutes. As soon as Jake started throwing Cheerios everywhere and trying to wipe his boogers on clothes, and Mike really wanted to kiss her sleeping 3 month old, (which is sweet but germy), and Bekah was getting jealous that I was talking to other little girls, it was time to pull the plug.
I headed to the dressing room. In the past I have grabbed clothes, bought them, and then tried them on at home, and then returned the ones that don't fit. But I am feeling brave and we get the giant dressing room that is fully enclosed so nobody can sneak under the stall walls. Macy's is having a massive sale so the dressing rooms are packed with women.
Once in the dressing room I actually let Jake out to run around since it's fully enclosed and I start to disrobe.
"Mommy, I see your panties."
"Of course you do, I just took off my pants.". I could have sworn I heard a giggle outside our stall. I take off my shirt.
"Mommy you're fat."
"Michael!"
"Mommy you're fat", Bekah chimes in, she has to do everything Michael does.
"Bekah and Michael, that's not nice."
"But Mommy you are fat." Now I can definitely hear laughing outside our dressing room.
"Ok that's enough you are lowering my self-esteem.". More snickers
"What's self-esteem?"
"You are making me feel bad about myself by calling me fat."
"But you are fat.". More laughter. Sigh.
"You are fat because you had 3 babies in your pouch." Ok somebody actually snorted. They laughed hard enough to snort.
"Like a kangaroo." Bekah chimes in.
"I didn't have 3 babies at once and it's not a pouch, it's a tummy.". And I don't care how much I work out and lose weight and do sit-ups I do, I still have a pouch of skin around my belly-button.
So now Mike takes this opportunity to grab that excess skin and try to fold it into a taco and start kissing it. And saying,
"But Mommy your tummy is so cute and soft and cuddly and you had babies inside it, mwah, mwah, mwah "(those are kissy sounds).
At this exact moment Jake realizes that the door only locks on the inside and he can leave this joint. So he turns the handle and starts to open the dressing room door,
"Noooooo!!"
I lunge at the door just in time and slam it shut with the palm of my hand. In the meantime I knock over Mike and Jake has grabbed my leg and is trying to bite me.
"Jake no biting!" Nobody is trying to hide their laughter now and I want to dissappear.
I slam the stroller in front of the door and lock all 4 brakes.
"Mommy you pushed me down!"
"I didn't push you down, I tripped over you because you were standing right on top of me!"
"Get off the floor and go sit next to your sister! Look how good Bekah is."
"She is licking the mirror."
"Bekah! Don't lick the mirror, that is disgusting!"
I have managed to get my clothes back on and Jake has figured out he can't move the stroller away from the door and he is in a screaming rage. Nobody is laughing now. I have to wrestle him back into the stroller and that is like wrestling with a midget on PCP.
I am sweating as I back the stroller out of the dressing room and nobody will look me in the eye as they all try not to laugh.
At this point I still have to buy my clothes, feed the kids, do naptime, pay work bills, clean house, laundry, dinner, bathtime and bedtime.
Do you see why I think I deserve a night out?!
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Bedtime Antics
I don't know about you but, once that obligatory bedtime routine is executed, and all the bedroom doors are shut, I am off-duty. As long they don't open their door and yell mom, and I don't smell any smoke, then I am enjoying me time. Except tonight.
I tried to ignore the antics, until plaster from the ceiling started to rain on my head. The windows were shaking, the blinds were swinging and my cat looked terrified. I finally trudged upstairs to find 3 individual broadway acts going on. Except it was more like a combination of Vaudeville and mixed martial arts.
I witnessed singing, stuffed animal throwing and wrestling. I yelled at them to go to bed but without much enthusiasm. I started to realize that if the three of them can do this much damage, wait until we have slumber parties.
I tried to ignore the antics, until plaster from the ceiling started to rain on my head. The windows were shaking, the blinds were swinging and my cat looked terrified. I finally trudged upstairs to find 3 individual broadway acts going on. Except it was more like a combination of Vaudeville and mixed martial arts.
I witnessed singing, stuffed animal throwing and wrestling. I yelled at them to go to bed but without much enthusiasm. I started to realize that if the three of them can do this much damage, wait until we have slumber parties.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Beer and Politicians
I know most people think I am a crazy liberal. But I do have a fair criteria for picking politicians. Can I have a beer with them?
I could totally have a beer with Arnold, John McCain, Reagan, Nixon (ok the last 2 are dead). I used to think that I could have a beer with Palin, but then she started talking and I realized I would rather break a beer bottle on her face.
Tonight the Gubernatorial debates were televised. I tried, tried, tried to be neutral. But hands down I would much rather have a beer with Jerry Brown. Just for the record I did shake hands with him when I was a child. His hands are basketball player large and he fit both me and my brother's hand in his. He also told me I was pretty and since most of my childhood I was mistaken for a boy, even after I started wearing a bra, this went straight to my heart. Ok so let's put all the favoritism aside and look at Meg Whitman..........
So the bitch turned Ebay around , that's awesome. She can run a HUGE company, that's no joke, I get it. But her voting record in her own words is "atrocious". Belly up to my imaginary bar and it's acceptable if you wake up at the age of 23 years old and say, "Damn! I have had the priveledge of voting since I was 18 and I am such an asshole for not taking advantage of that. ". Belly up to my bar at the ripe old age of Meg Whitman and display her erratic voting record and announce you are running to be the Governor of California.......I will not buy you a drink.
I am getting tired so I need to cut this short. Meg Whitman has spent, so far, $71 million of her personal fortune on her campaign. Blink, blink, pace the room, go pee, open a beer and sit down and think.... how much is my personal fortune. I bet you anything your personal fortune does not have room for $71 million in disposable cash. If you are a good person your disposable cash would go towards our suffering public schools, if you are a semi-decent person that cash would go for plastic surgery and if you are struggling with morals, that amount of cash could buy a lot of hookers and crack.
And I am so open-minded that I realize hookers have got to pay their mortgage and crack dealers need to pay rent. But Meg Whitman does not deserve to be Governor of the state of California. And if I was a real writer I would not end with this paragraph...........but my cat is licking his ass within ear shot and I need to sign some permission slips and go to bed.
I could totally have a beer with Arnold, John McCain, Reagan, Nixon (ok the last 2 are dead). I used to think that I could have a beer with Palin, but then she started talking and I realized I would rather break a beer bottle on her face.
Tonight the Gubernatorial debates were televised. I tried, tried, tried to be neutral. But hands down I would much rather have a beer with Jerry Brown. Just for the record I did shake hands with him when I was a child. His hands are basketball player large and he fit both me and my brother's hand in his. He also told me I was pretty and since most of my childhood I was mistaken for a boy, even after I started wearing a bra, this went straight to my heart. Ok so let's put all the favoritism aside and look at Meg Whitman..........
So the bitch turned Ebay around , that's awesome. She can run a HUGE company, that's no joke, I get it. But her voting record in her own words is "atrocious". Belly up to my imaginary bar and it's acceptable if you wake up at the age of 23 years old and say, "Damn! I have had the priveledge of voting since I was 18 and I am such an asshole for not taking advantage of that. ". Belly up to my bar at the ripe old age of Meg Whitman and display her erratic voting record and announce you are running to be the Governor of California.......I will not buy you a drink.
I am getting tired so I need to cut this short. Meg Whitman has spent, so far, $71 million of her personal fortune on her campaign. Blink, blink, pace the room, go pee, open a beer and sit down and think.... how much is my personal fortune. I bet you anything your personal fortune does not have room for $71 million in disposable cash. If you are a good person your disposable cash would go towards our suffering public schools, if you are a semi-decent person that cash would go for plastic surgery and if you are struggling with morals, that amount of cash could buy a lot of hookers and crack.
And I am so open-minded that I realize hookers have got to pay their mortgage and crack dealers need to pay rent. But Meg Whitman does not deserve to be Governor of the state of California. And if I was a real writer I would not end with this paragraph...........but my cat is licking his ass within ear shot and I need to sign some permission slips and go to bed.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Hurricane Katrina 5 years later
I remember that August well. My oldest was 15 months old and I was hugely pregnant with my daughter. Mike was playing with a Hot Wheels track and I was watching super hottie Anderson Cooper on CNN while folding laundry.
That was Anderson Cooper's epic coverage of the Super Dome in New Orleans, with all the stranded victims of Hurricane Katrina. As he talked to the camera a hugely pregnant woman shuffled behind him. I gasped. Here I am cool, comfortable, safe and well-fed watching a woman as pregnant as me sweating, with no access to food or water. I started bawling.
Michael is the emotional barometer in our home and he was immediately concerned. Just then my husband opened our front door which faced our living room. And this is where it gets funny. My dear husband saw his crying pregnant wife, holding his son and Erik actually took one step backwards. He stood on the threshold of our home, one foot in and one foot out, and stole a quick glance over his shoulder. He was thinking of making a run for it!! Erik was struggling hard to think what he had done to make me cry and how he could escape punishment. What a chicken.
I explained to him why I was crying, and it wasn't until he realized he was not guilty of anything that he felt safe walking into the house and shutting our front door. In his defense I was a little psycho when I was pregnant.
Now I have a 6 year old, an almost 5 year old and a 3 year old. I am so happy to not be pregnant during another summer! But I still wonder about that other pregnant woman. Did she and her baby make it? Is her child going to start Kindergarten next year like my daughter Bekah? Does she, or did she have more kids? Does she still live in New Orleans? I can only pray that she is safe now.
That was Anderson Cooper's epic coverage of the Super Dome in New Orleans, with all the stranded victims of Hurricane Katrina. As he talked to the camera a hugely pregnant woman shuffled behind him. I gasped. Here I am cool, comfortable, safe and well-fed watching a woman as pregnant as me sweating, with no access to food or water. I started bawling.
Michael is the emotional barometer in our home and he was immediately concerned. Just then my husband opened our front door which faced our living room. And this is where it gets funny. My dear husband saw his crying pregnant wife, holding his son and Erik actually took one step backwards. He stood on the threshold of our home, one foot in and one foot out, and stole a quick glance over his shoulder. He was thinking of making a run for it!! Erik was struggling hard to think what he had done to make me cry and how he could escape punishment. What a chicken.
I explained to him why I was crying, and it wasn't until he realized he was not guilty of anything that he felt safe walking into the house and shutting our front door. In his defense I was a little psycho when I was pregnant.
Now I have a 6 year old, an almost 5 year old and a 3 year old. I am so happy to not be pregnant during another summer! But I still wonder about that other pregnant woman. Did she and her baby make it? Is her child going to start Kindergarten next year like my daughter Bekah? Does she, or did she have more kids? Does she still live in New Orleans? I can only pray that she is safe now.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
My Summer Vacation by Charlotte
I took some major time off from my blog and I missed writing, and offending and entertaining my friends. I'd like to give you a run-down on my summer before I go back to my usual erratic posts.
June
* Kids did great with their swim lessons even though Jake and Bekah's class was monopolized by some helicopter parents. That means they hovered over the pool and bossed the swim coach around. All 3 of them: mom, dad and grandmother. The poor little boy was wearing a swim vest and goggles, neither of which fit properly. It was killing me! Poor little guy. My only advice to the swim coach was, drag Jake's ass into the pool if he tries to run away.
* Took my savages to Disneyland for their first time. Lots of family joined us and we dominated the park. My daughter is fearless, my sons are wimps. Mike heard the first chord of organ music in The Haunted Mansion and ran screaming for the door. Jake was catatonic for an hour after going on The Pirates of the Caribbean. Bekah went on Tower of Terror twice! She's 4 years old.
July
* Husband was on-call Fourth of July weekend. Super suck.
* Took my 3 monkeys to the county fair by myself. Hot and expensive but I am not afraid to hit the beer booth. Best money spent was shooting water balloons out of a sling-shot, at each other. I have better aim than they do (evil laugh) that's what they get for waking me up at dawn. Jake was on my team and Bekah and Mike had their own, ineffective team. We drew such an audience of people laughing that the booth's owner kept giving us free water balloons. We got him a whole new line of customers. It was really fun. One woman was laughing so hard she had to sit on the grass so as not to pee her pants.
*Kids did sports camp, craft camp, no girls allowed camp and a music class.
* I decided to take the kids camping for a weekend by myself. Not really, my Dad and Step-mom and other family were there to pick up some slack. My reasoning was that Erik would have a lovely weekend by himself and would be refreshed.
*We spent the whole weekend in the lake swimming. Jake practically hyperventilated when I tried to swim out to the buoys in the middle of the lake. I started to turn back and my dear Dad said,"No! Spend 5 minutes by yourself he needs grow out of this!". Thanks Dad. It was so nice to swim out past the pee warmed water and shiny slick of sunscreen,to the middle of the lake where it was nice and cool and quiet. Totally cleared my head.
* I was exhausted the next day and packed up camp around my sleeping kids. I then poured them into semi-clean clothes and packed them into the van. I told them we would stop for milk and donuts if they let me drive home with no stops or fighting. I was so excited thinking that I would dump them on my refreshed husband and take a giant nap. When I got home Erik was laid up with a sprained ankle..........no rest for the wicked.
*Mike flooded our downstairs. Our cat drinks from the bathroom sink and Mike turned it on full-blast, plugged the sink and then came back upstairs to snuggle with us in bed. While Erik and I are laying in bed listening to our 3 kids sing songs about farts we had no idea our bathroom was flooding beyond the walls and onto the hallway carpet. Such a lovely thing to come downstairs and see before I have even had a cup of coffee.
*Keep your records updated, I called the number my husband gave me for our insurance guy and it was phone sex chat-line!
*Happy ending: home owner's insurance is buying us new downstairs carpet. I have decided to let my 6 year old live. Then I had a huge good-bye to the old carpet playgroup here with my friends and all their kids. At least 15 kids were here. Good times.
August (last weekend of July)
*My brother Bill and his woman, Ari, came to spend a couple of nights. They were trying to catch a military flight out of Travis Air Force Base for Europe (the long way). Bill is a Navy Seal. Lots of family in and out all day feeding them brunch, lunch and grilled a couple of tri-tips. Tons of fun.
* After they left their travels took them to Spain and Morocco. They stayed here on there way home for a couple of more nights. I love having them here because they are very hands-on with the kids and not only are a huge help but really tire out my kids!
*The same day Bill and Ari went home Erik's grandmother came to stay a couple of nights. She came with me to Mike's camp talent show and Mike booed a little girl and made her cry. I wanted to fucking die!! I dragged him out of the room and told him how he had hurt her feelings and was never allowed to boo again for the rest of his life. And he said,"Even at a football game?". And I said maybe. Then I made him apologize to her and by that time he was in tears.
*I took Grandma-in-law and kids to visit a cousin of hers in Marin. They were super nice and had 2 kids of their own. He is V.P. of Wordpress so I didn't mention I had a blog on Blogger and I told my Grandmother-in-law not to say anything either.
*The next day tons more family came for a bbq and then sister-in-law took her grandmother home with her.
*Erik was on-call this entire time. It sucked.
*Hooked up with friend of over 30 years and took our kids to Gilroy Gardens. Fun!
*Jake has taken to climbing the outside of the stairs. Like a rock wall. The first time I found him I couldn't even reach him because he had climbed so high. I ran upstairs and dragged him over the railing to safety. I have weaved a crib bumper through the spindles but that's just slowing him down. Any ideas besides barbed wire or broken glass?
*Last night bbq here, tonight bbq at friends, tomorrow more bbq at friends. And then back to school on Monday. Three different schools, three different schedules.........wish me luck.
June
* Kids did great with their swim lessons even though Jake and Bekah's class was monopolized by some helicopter parents. That means they hovered over the pool and bossed the swim coach around. All 3 of them: mom, dad and grandmother. The poor little boy was wearing a swim vest and goggles, neither of which fit properly. It was killing me! Poor little guy. My only advice to the swim coach was, drag Jake's ass into the pool if he tries to run away.
* Took my savages to Disneyland for their first time. Lots of family joined us and we dominated the park. My daughter is fearless, my sons are wimps. Mike heard the first chord of organ music in The Haunted Mansion and ran screaming for the door. Jake was catatonic for an hour after going on The Pirates of the Caribbean. Bekah went on Tower of Terror twice! She's 4 years old.
July
* Husband was on-call Fourth of July weekend. Super suck.
* Took my 3 monkeys to the county fair by myself. Hot and expensive but I am not afraid to hit the beer booth. Best money spent was shooting water balloons out of a sling-shot, at each other. I have better aim than they do (evil laugh) that's what they get for waking me up at dawn. Jake was on my team and Bekah and Mike had their own, ineffective team. We drew such an audience of people laughing that the booth's owner kept giving us free water balloons. We got him a whole new line of customers. It was really fun. One woman was laughing so hard she had to sit on the grass so as not to pee her pants.
*Kids did sports camp, craft camp, no girls allowed camp and a music class.
* I decided to take the kids camping for a weekend by myself. Not really, my Dad and Step-mom and other family were there to pick up some slack. My reasoning was that Erik would have a lovely weekend by himself and would be refreshed.
*We spent the whole weekend in the lake swimming. Jake practically hyperventilated when I tried to swim out to the buoys in the middle of the lake. I started to turn back and my dear Dad said,"No! Spend 5 minutes by yourself he needs grow out of this!". Thanks Dad. It was so nice to swim out past the pee warmed water and shiny slick of sunscreen,to the middle of the lake where it was nice and cool and quiet. Totally cleared my head.
* I was exhausted the next day and packed up camp around my sleeping kids. I then poured them into semi-clean clothes and packed them into the van. I told them we would stop for milk and donuts if they let me drive home with no stops or fighting. I was so excited thinking that I would dump them on my refreshed husband and take a giant nap. When I got home Erik was laid up with a sprained ankle..........no rest for the wicked.
*Mike flooded our downstairs. Our cat drinks from the bathroom sink and Mike turned it on full-blast, plugged the sink and then came back upstairs to snuggle with us in bed. While Erik and I are laying in bed listening to our 3 kids sing songs about farts we had no idea our bathroom was flooding beyond the walls and onto the hallway carpet. Such a lovely thing to come downstairs and see before I have even had a cup of coffee.
*Keep your records updated, I called the number my husband gave me for our insurance guy and it was phone sex chat-line!
*Happy ending: home owner's insurance is buying us new downstairs carpet. I have decided to let my 6 year old live. Then I had a huge good-bye to the old carpet playgroup here with my friends and all their kids. At least 15 kids were here. Good times.
August (last weekend of July)
*My brother Bill and his woman, Ari, came to spend a couple of nights. They were trying to catch a military flight out of Travis Air Force Base for Europe (the long way). Bill is a Navy Seal. Lots of family in and out all day feeding them brunch, lunch and grilled a couple of tri-tips. Tons of fun.
* After they left their travels took them to Spain and Morocco. They stayed here on there way home for a couple of more nights. I love having them here because they are very hands-on with the kids and not only are a huge help but really tire out my kids!
*The same day Bill and Ari went home Erik's grandmother came to stay a couple of nights. She came with me to Mike's camp talent show and Mike booed a little girl and made her cry. I wanted to fucking die!! I dragged him out of the room and told him how he had hurt her feelings and was never allowed to boo again for the rest of his life. And he said,"Even at a football game?". And I said maybe. Then I made him apologize to her and by that time he was in tears.
*I took Grandma-in-law and kids to visit a cousin of hers in Marin. They were super nice and had 2 kids of their own. He is V.P. of Wordpress so I didn't mention I had a blog on Blogger and I told my Grandmother-in-law not to say anything either.
*The next day tons more family came for a bbq and then sister-in-law took her grandmother home with her.
*Erik was on-call this entire time. It sucked.
*Hooked up with friend of over 30 years and took our kids to Gilroy Gardens. Fun!
*Jake has taken to climbing the outside of the stairs. Like a rock wall. The first time I found him I couldn't even reach him because he had climbed so high. I ran upstairs and dragged him over the railing to safety. I have weaved a crib bumper through the spindles but that's just slowing him down. Any ideas besides barbed wire or broken glass?
*Last night bbq here, tonight bbq at friends, tomorrow more bbq at friends. And then back to school on Monday. Three different schools, three different schedules.........wish me luck.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Awards and Why I don't Do Them
I am not one of those mommy bloggers who gives cute stuff away and awards their friends with heartfelt awards. Why? Because I suck. I am lazy and unorganized.
This chick Angie who has her shit way more together than I do, gave me an award and I am very grateful. Please check out her blog, she's cute, sarcastic, is funny and drinks.
Coming soon: My kids will go back to school and I will have time to blog. I want to tell you about my summer and otherwise bore or entertain you, and indulge myself.
Right now I have the news on and I guess our troops are leaving Iraq. My bro, who is a Navy Seal, was supposed to go to Iraq next month. Now I wonder if he is still going. It would be great if he stayed home and impregnated his wife instead of going to a shit-hole and getting his ass shot off. I think this calls for a cold one.
This chick Angie who has her shit way more together than I do, gave me an award and I am very grateful. Please check out her blog, she's cute, sarcastic, is funny and drinks.
Coming soon: My kids will go back to school and I will have time to blog. I want to tell you about my summer and otherwise bore or entertain you, and indulge myself.
Right now I have the news on and I guess our troops are leaving Iraq. My bro, who is a Navy Seal, was supposed to go to Iraq next month. Now I wonder if he is still going. It would be great if he stayed home and impregnated his wife instead of going to a shit-hole and getting his ass shot off. I think this calls for a cold one.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Your Baby Is An Asshole: babies under the influence
Tripped over this blog while on twitter. This is right up any N.E.O. Mom's well worn alley. Pictures of cute babies in silly situations with offensive text. The best part is to click the links within each blog post, makes it even more hilarious.
Your Baby Is An Asshole: babies under the influence
Your Baby Is An Asshole: babies under the influence
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Writer's Block
I am experiencing a brain freeze, a writer's block. The text below is spew from my frontal lobes. I usually type this out and come back after the kids are in bed and fill it in. But I am not feeling the creative juices right now. Is it because I am old, tired, taking too much Vitamin P. ? I have a ton of stuff floating in my brain. My thoughts run just above my eyeballs like the headlines stream across the bottom of your t.v. screen when you are watching your favorite cable news show. I am just unable to filter those thoughts productively right now.
So interpret at your own risk:
Not sure what to write about anymore. waht's off limits. mykids are getting older, much closer to reading, and they have issues that they don't need to hear their mom espousing on a public blog. we went camping alone my hubs sprained his ankle. bro is coming chuck mangione. jake's clinginess. anger management facebook disneyland. bekah at the gym mike being awesome comradierie, racism, politics, tea party weight loss cooking 40th books swimming while camping step bro Val and Kristin
So interpret at your own risk:
Not sure what to write about anymore. waht's off limits. mykids are getting older, much closer to reading, and they have issues that they don't need to hear their mom espousing on a public blog. we went camping alone my hubs sprained his ankle. bro is coming chuck mangione. jake's clinginess. anger management facebook disneyland. bekah at the gym mike being awesome comradierie, racism, politics, tea party weight loss cooking 40th books swimming while camping step bro Val and Kristin
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Summer is for Re-runs
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I finally made it back to my blog only to release a re-run. In my defense I gotta go bake a cake for a bbq and this particular entry makes me laugh.
My brother Bill, pictured above, found a list of, "...things women wish men knew." and he decided to add his own commentary. It's hilarious but I still had to edit some of it because it did get pretty nasty. My brother's comments are the one's labeled "dude".
I finally made it back to my blog only to release a re-run. In my defense I gotta go bake a cake for a bbq and this particular entry makes me laugh.
My brother Bill, pictured above, found a list of, "...things women wish men knew." and he decided to add his own commentary. It's hilarious but I still had to edit some of it because it did get pretty nasty. My brother's comments are the one's labeled "dude".
1. Saying "I love you" immediately before, during, or following sex doesn't count.
Dude; Take what you can fucking get, if I'm saying it, it counts, unless I'm lying to you, which is gonna be a lot if you keep saying stupid shit like that.
2. Real men drive stick shift.
Dude: Just when the fuck did you become an expert on real men? You cry
during Grey's anatomy and sit when peeing, I don't give a fuck if Idrive a dumptruck and park it on your lawn or a vespa and do race tracks in your driveway, I am the judge of what a real man is, and while were on that subject your brother is a putz.
3. I will leave if you lie.
Dude. Pack your shit.
4. You are cute in raglan-sleeved T-shirts (two-toned baseball undershirts).
Dude. I am never cute and never describe me as such. And what the fuck,….make up your mind do you want to date a real man or a twelve year old from some perverse little league.
5. I'm convinced I'm pregnant and obsess about it for a minimum of 24to 48 hours before my period, even when I have no rational reason to think so.
Dude. I mean honestly, what the fuck do I even say to that, keep that shit to yourself.
6. I love it when you hug me from behind and whisper in my ear.
Dude. I love it when you blow me after the Chargers lose.
7. "Fine" is never an appropriate response when I ask you how I look.
Dude. Remember after we spent the holidays at your mom's house and you asked me that question and I said you looked plump? Cuz I remember,the neighbors remember, I think the goddamn dog remembers. You are wrong, Fine is a wholly appropriate response.
8. Most of the time when I fantasize, it's about you.
Dude ummmm……. Yup ditto here.
9. I'm terrified of becoming my mother, even though I admire her.
Dude see answer to question # 3
10. I get turned on simply seeing that I have an e-mail from you.
Dude. When did I email you?
11. I expect you to call me.
D. You also expect me to be nice to your alcoholic father and your enabling neurotic mother, I won't even go into your dipshit borrowing money putz brother, so calling you is the least of my worries but thanks for bringing it up.
12. Only rock stars are allowed to wear leather pants.
Dude. You can tell me what to wear at our wedding and any funerals I attend. Short of that just compliment me on my daring sense of style and be happy I deal with your shit.
13. I'm scared of losing my independence.
Dude. You go to the pisser in pre-planned groups, and the only independent chick in history I can think of was Amelia Aerhart and you see where that got her.
14. I'm more forgiving of you than I really should be.
Dude. You're not Katie Holmes and I'm not a Scientoligist so let's pull the reality train over and get you a ticket.
15. Oral sex is your get-out-of-the-doghouse-free card. Manolo Blahnik shoes also do the trick.
Dude. I aint got no problem tongue whipping the Ham wallet but I would rather whack off with a hand full of broken glass then ever go shoe shopping with you again.
16. You did something bad. I seem cool with it. I'm not. (See directly above.)
Dude. Check, I will ignore you by going to Déjà vu (strip club in San Diego) until you are feeling more into it.
17. If I'm not having sex with you, I'm . . . a.) . . . having a fat day. b.) . . . not feeling "connected" to you. c.) . . . blackmailing you to get something I want.
Dude. You are using sex to get something you want they have a name for that and that name is whore.
19. When I compare my flabby tummy to a kangaroo pouch, say nothing.
Dude. Unless by nothing you mean G'day Mate.
20. You look hot in hooded clothing items.
Dude So you have a secret sexual fantasy about the Unabomber, JesusChrist what else.
21. You should never tell me what to do.
Dude. If I didn't tell you what to do you would be sitting in your room late for work in your underwear trying to figure out how to use the goddamn alarm clock.
22. My breasts love much licking and sucking.
Dude This is the least crazy thing you have said all day.
23. . I'm in heaven when you hold my hand.
Dude. I hold your hand because if I didn't you would walk straight into oncoming traffic and fucking die, that is a semi truck, the guy driving it is on crack, he will kill you, wake up.
24. I need to hear how you feel about me. Often. Tell me now.
Dude. Sssshhh be quiet there about to say the score on the Chargers game.
25. Surprises, especially gifts for moi = more loving.
Dude. If I truly fuck up I will get you flowers, if the surf was really good though I will probably just get them from the grocery store.
26. I want to be the best thing that ever happened to you—and for you
to recognize this.
Dude. When I first moved to Hawaii I bought a 69 ford econoline van for 300 hundred dollars, it was awesome it could fit ten surfboards, had three on the tree and a max speed of 60 mph downhill in neutral, I can honestly say it was the greatest vehicle purchase of my life. Wait what was the question again.
27. If I'm not feeling loved, I will start looking.
Dude. you get like this for four days every month call me I'll be atDéjà vu again.
28. I like it when you tell me what you're thinking, even if you don't know yourself.
Dude. O fucking kay this is what I want you to do, write down exactly what you just said and then read it out loud to yourself. If that does not sound like absolute gibberish I will let you buy me one complete getup from urban outfitters.
29. Celebrating our anniversary, even if it's only been a few months,earns major bonus points.
Dude. Not going to Thailand on a cocaine fueled hooker binge should earn me major bonus points, and by the way I have no idea when my own birthday is let alone anniversaries you should probably get me a calendar.
30. I love it when you're sweaty.
Dude. But you don't like it when I have body odor, you are a fucking walking contradiction.
31. A lady should always be greeted with kisses.
Dude. Fair enough.
32. I like porn.
D. You like passionate late night cinemax porn. I like Max Hardcore porn, there is a colossal difference.
33. I love holding your bum in the palms of my hands.
Dude. Strange enough that is where I keep my wallet.
34. Even nice girls like hushed dirty talk in public.
Dude. I talked dirty to you and I thought you were gonna call the cops,you talked dirty to me and I couldn't stop laughing, how about we just watch that Max Hardcore I was talking about earlier.
35. I remember everything about our relationship.
Dude. All in all I'll give you that one.
36.You should know all this and more without my telling you.
Dude. You just had to end on a crazy note.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Men and My Sports Bra
Being an old married hag I have to admit I live vicariously through my babysitter. Saint Sarah is young, pretty, and has way more energy and patience than I do. She is also single and 24 years old. That means I already had a driver's license when she was born.
Recently Saint Sarah was complaining about men, seriously afraid she was going to be an old maid. I tried to comfort her, telling her that true love sneaks up on you. I told her that Erik and I didn't go on an actual date until 2 years after we met and I was 33 years old when we got married.
I advised her that men are pretty much useless until they get closer to the age of 30, and even then they still need a lot of maintenance. Just wait, I told her, as I swept the room with my arm, you could have all this.........and then my 5 year old peed on her lap.
After we cleaned her up,I once again tried to comfort her. Look I went out with a younger guy once. He was 20 and I was 21 years old. One night we were supposed to go out on a date. I picked him up, took him to the liquor store and bought him a 12 pack of beer and then he broke up with me in his driveway.
I drove home to my roommate in shock. But instead of comforting me she started to laugh hysterically, "He used you to get beer!!". I joined in the laughter, she was right, this dude wasn't worth a broken heart let alone a mild annoyance, I was just killing time with him anyways.
Saint Sarah seemed to be amused by this story, and as far as I am concerned there are very few men on this planet that deserve to breathe the same oxygen that she does.
Well while we are on the subject of embarrassing moments.... I had a huge struggle at the gym earlier this week . I had a fabulous, sweaty workout, I was so proud. But while in the locker room I hit an obstacle. I peeled off my sweaty clothes, placed my glasses in a safe place and then attempted to take off my sports bra. I have been doing some lifting lately so my arms were like spaghetti and as I went to pull off my sports bra it got stuck. It got stuck on my face. I was naked, naked, naked except for a sweaty bra stuck on my face. I couldn't see and I could barely breathe. Eeeek. I decided that after one deep breath if I couldn't get that bitch off my face I would ask for help....and then I would quit this gym.
I faced the wall, counted to ten, took a deep breath and then ripped that thing off of me. Phew...
If you have any embarrassing moments you would like to share with us than please bring it!!
Recently Saint Sarah was complaining about men, seriously afraid she was going to be an old maid. I tried to comfort her, telling her that true love sneaks up on you. I told her that Erik and I didn't go on an actual date until 2 years after we met and I was 33 years old when we got married.
I advised her that men are pretty much useless until they get closer to the age of 30, and even then they still need a lot of maintenance. Just wait, I told her, as I swept the room with my arm, you could have all this.........and then my 5 year old peed on her lap.
After we cleaned her up,I once again tried to comfort her. Look I went out with a younger guy once. He was 20 and I was 21 years old. One night we were supposed to go out on a date. I picked him up, took him to the liquor store and bought him a 12 pack of beer and then he broke up with me in his driveway.
I drove home to my roommate in shock. But instead of comforting me she started to laugh hysterically, "He used you to get beer!!". I joined in the laughter, she was right, this dude wasn't worth a broken heart let alone a mild annoyance, I was just killing time with him anyways.
Saint Sarah seemed to be amused by this story, and as far as I am concerned there are very few men on this planet that deserve to breathe the same oxygen that she does.
Well while we are on the subject of embarrassing moments.... I had a huge struggle at the gym earlier this week . I had a fabulous, sweaty workout, I was so proud. But while in the locker room I hit an obstacle. I peeled off my sweaty clothes, placed my glasses in a safe place and then attempted to take off my sports bra. I have been doing some lifting lately so my arms were like spaghetti and as I went to pull off my sports bra it got stuck. It got stuck on my face. I was naked, naked, naked except for a sweaty bra stuck on my face. I couldn't see and I could barely breathe. Eeeek. I decided that after one deep breath if I couldn't get that bitch off my face I would ask for help....and then I would quit this gym.
I faced the wall, counted to ten, took a deep breath and then ripped that thing off of me. Phew...
If you have any embarrassing moments you would like to share with us than please bring it!!
Friday, May 21, 2010
Make Me Laugh
I have been dealing with some shit lately. I strive to write funny, sometimes thought-provoking, but mostly funny posts. I am drawing a blank. And I really need to laugh.
So I am going to try something new. I am going to put this linky thing at the bottom of this post and I want you to add a link to either something funny on your blog or just a link to something you find hilarious.
Go ahead, make me laugh (Clint Eastwood voice). See, I am just not funny right now only dorky.
So I am going to try something new. I am going to put this linky thing at the bottom of this post and I want you to add a link to either something funny on your blog or just a link to something you find hilarious.
Go ahead, make me laugh (Clint Eastwood voice). See, I am just not funny right now only dorky.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
No Excuse, Support Exists
A side effect of being a mom, and especially a stay-at-home mom, is isolation. When my oldest was born I was so lucky to have an awesome neighbor whose 2nd son was born the day after my firstborn. We talked on the phone, we walked in the mornings, we traded dinners, we watched trashy reality t.v. together. I thought this whole mothering thing was a piece of cake.
Then my friend moved 2 states away. I had never felt so alone in my life. I found a mom's club and even though I eventually got kicked out because of my big mouth, I am still close friends with these women. I have known them now for 5 years and they have been a huge support.
Now I have 3 kids. Just a few months ago my oldest was diagnosed with ADHD and Sensory Processing Disorder and my youngest was diagnosed with Pervasive Developmental Disorder (which is basically Autism). I felt the same way that I did when my friend moved away, alone.
I cried and felt sorry for myself and drank too many beers and yelled at my kids and refused to have sex with my husband. And then I sucked it up and started looking for help.
So we all know about 9-1-1 and 4-1-1 but have you heard of 2-1-1? This number is somewhere in between 9-1-1 and 4-1-1, if you aren't having a full blown emergency but need more info than a phone number, than 2-1-1 is for you. Crisis intervention, family counseling, parenting classes etc. Free of charge.
Through them I was able to find out about CARE Parent Network. They hooked me up with another mom who has a son with ADHD and a son with Autism!!! That's better service than an online dating website, and it's free. This mom called me before mother's day when I just happened to be wine-tasting in Napa. I told her I couldn't talk at the moment and she said she was extremely jealous. But she called me back this evening, and Erik had taken the kids to the gym, so I was actually able to talk on the phone. We talked for an hour. We had a lot in common.
This hour long conversation was informative, but mostly therapeutic. The kind of phone call where you are scrambling for a pen to write down what she has to say, but where you also can just take comfort that somebody has walked a mile in your shoes. And she is still standing.
I am not the only parent in this family, I am not a single mom and Lord above I never want to be! So on my husband's day off I am dragging him to a Saturday full of parenting classes. Classes for parents of children with special needs; that's us.
After my firstborn got kicked out of his second preschool I found the ever so amazing School Of Imagination. My friends always tell me that I should be their spokesperson because I praise them so often. I can't help my enthusiasm, I love this school. Your kid could be as difficult as you can imagine, and they will nurture and bring out the best. School of Imagination also offers parenting seminars and other community outreach projects. One of these seminars are what we will be attending on Saturday.
A dear friend of mine, Danica, accused me of being so blue lately. Meaning my blog posts haven't been light hearted and funny. I agree. I have been dealing with some shit, I want perfection for my kids. And Danica isn't shallow by any means! I know she just turns to my blog for humor to get her through the day.
:
Here is a joke just for Danica: What's the difference between a heterosexual woman and a bisexual woman?
4 drinks.
Then my friend moved 2 states away. I had never felt so alone in my life. I found a mom's club and even though I eventually got kicked out because of my big mouth, I am still close friends with these women. I have known them now for 5 years and they have been a huge support.
Now I have 3 kids. Just a few months ago my oldest was diagnosed with ADHD and Sensory Processing Disorder and my youngest was diagnosed with Pervasive Developmental Disorder (which is basically Autism). I felt the same way that I did when my friend moved away, alone.
I cried and felt sorry for myself and drank too many beers and yelled at my kids and refused to have sex with my husband. And then I sucked it up and started looking for help.
So we all know about 9-1-1 and 4-1-1 but have you heard of 2-1-1? This number is somewhere in between 9-1-1 and 4-1-1, if you aren't having a full blown emergency but need more info than a phone number, than 2-1-1 is for you. Crisis intervention, family counseling, parenting classes etc. Free of charge.
Through them I was able to find out about CARE Parent Network. They hooked me up with another mom who has a son with ADHD and a son with Autism!!! That's better service than an online dating website, and it's free. This mom called me before mother's day when I just happened to be wine-tasting in Napa. I told her I couldn't talk at the moment and she said she was extremely jealous. But she called me back this evening, and Erik had taken the kids to the gym, so I was actually able to talk on the phone. We talked for an hour. We had a lot in common.
This hour long conversation was informative, but mostly therapeutic. The kind of phone call where you are scrambling for a pen to write down what she has to say, but where you also can just take comfort that somebody has walked a mile in your shoes. And she is still standing.
I am not the only parent in this family, I am not a single mom and Lord above I never want to be! So on my husband's day off I am dragging him to a Saturday full of parenting classes. Classes for parents of children with special needs; that's us.
After my firstborn got kicked out of his second preschool I found the ever so amazing School Of Imagination. My friends always tell me that I should be their spokesperson because I praise them so often. I can't help my enthusiasm, I love this school. Your kid could be as difficult as you can imagine, and they will nurture and bring out the best. School of Imagination also offers parenting seminars and other community outreach projects. One of these seminars are what we will be attending on Saturday.
A dear friend of mine, Danica, accused me of being so blue lately. Meaning my blog posts haven't been light hearted and funny. I agree. I have been dealing with some shit, I want perfection for my kids. And Danica isn't shallow by any means! I know she just turns to my blog for humor to get her through the day.
:
Here is a joke just for Danica: What's the difference between a heterosexual woman and a bisexual woman?
4 drinks.
Monday, May 10, 2010
The Ugly Voice
Disclaimer: I do not want pity or praise. I just want you to read this and comment. I want a yes or no answer, and/or feedback.
I am writing this because after almost 40 years on the planet I have finally realized I am not that unique. I do not have experiences or thoughts that are singularly mine. So I just want to know if this happens to you?
Every time I go to the gym I encounter major resistance.....from myself. And when I am on a roll I go to the gym 4 days a week. But the whole time I am getting ready, the whole way there and the whole damn time I am working out, there is an ugly voice in my head. I have to ignore and fight this voice, and she is a bitch!! This is what she says:
"Why are you going to the gym when you should be cleaning your house?"
"Too bad you don't have cuter work-out clothes."
"You should pack healthier snacks for your kids."
"Why bother going to the gym you barely have enough time to work-out?"
"You should shower before you go because you smell/your hair is frizzy/your face is oily."
Once I am at the gym she gets really mean:
"Stop running you are sweating/jiggling/your stomach is showing/you have camel toe."
"You can only run 6 miles per hour? That's pathetic."
"Oh great there is that super skinny chick who has more kids than you do."
"Why are you doing sit-ups when your favorite beverage is beer?"
"Do you think that doing sit-ups is really going to get rid of the flabby tummy and stretch-marks?"
"Lifting weights is not going to hide the fact that you have breastfed 3 kids."
"Your husband is working his ass off and you are in the hot tub reading a book....just because it's a parenting book doesn't make it better."
"Quit the gym and save the cash for a makeover."
"Well at least you don't weigh 300 pounds like that woman over there."
And she doesn't shut her trap until I am actually in the shower. Once the endorphins kick in from the exercise she finally shuts the fuck up. The gym is not the only place she shows up to talk shit to me, but that's the only place where she has a megaphone.
Does this happen to anybody else?
I am writing this because after almost 40 years on the planet I have finally realized I am not that unique. I do not have experiences or thoughts that are singularly mine. So I just want to know if this happens to you?
Every time I go to the gym I encounter major resistance.....from myself. And when I am on a roll I go to the gym 4 days a week. But the whole time I am getting ready, the whole way there and the whole damn time I am working out, there is an ugly voice in my head. I have to ignore and fight this voice, and she is a bitch!! This is what she says:
"Why are you going to the gym when you should be cleaning your house?"
"Too bad you don't have cuter work-out clothes."
"You should pack healthier snacks for your kids."
"Why bother going to the gym you barely have enough time to work-out?"
"You should shower before you go because you smell/your hair is frizzy/your face is oily."
Once I am at the gym she gets really mean:
"Stop running you are sweating/jiggling/your stomach is showing/you have camel toe."
"You can only run 6 miles per hour? That's pathetic."
"Oh great there is that super skinny chick who has more kids than you do."
"Why are you doing sit-ups when your favorite beverage is beer?"
"Do you think that doing sit-ups is really going to get rid of the flabby tummy and stretch-marks?"
"Lifting weights is not going to hide the fact that you have breastfed 3 kids."
"Your husband is working his ass off and you are in the hot tub reading a book....just because it's a parenting book doesn't make it better."
"Quit the gym and save the cash for a makeover."
"Well at least you don't weigh 300 pounds like that woman over there."
And she doesn't shut her trap until I am actually in the shower. Once the endorphins kick in from the exercise she finally shuts the fuck up. The gym is not the only place she shows up to talk shit to me, but that's the only place where she has a megaphone.
Does this happen to anybody else?
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Mother's Day 2010
Since I am a mommy blogger I am obligated to write something on Mother's Day.
I celebrated on Friday by going wine-tasting with my N.E.O. Mom friends in Napa. That was awesome!
Saturday my 4 year old daughter and 5 year old son had dance recitals. That was awesome!
Today, Mother's Day, not so awesome.
My husband has been oncall all weekend, I have barely seen him. My kids were beastly today and it was pouring rain, trapping us inside. I could have gone to the gym but the time I got my act together the daycare was closed. They closed early for Mother's Day.
I dragged everyone to the grocery store, during the brief time Erik was home, so we could have some together time and get out of the house. A husband is almost as bad at the grocery store as 3 kids.
I planned to make an amazing dinner, because I love to cook. But Erik got called back to the hospital, so I cancelled it.
I let the kids play in the mud once it stopped raining, bathed them and put them to bed. Bekah was inconsolable, crying for her father. I ran out of patience. Now I feel like shit for yelling at her and want to wake her up and apologize.
But this Mother's Day is still marginally better than the Mother's Day we took the kids to Hooters for dinner.
Happy Mother's Day.
I celebrated on Friday by going wine-tasting with my N.E.O. Mom friends in Napa. That was awesome!
Saturday my 4 year old daughter and 5 year old son had dance recitals. That was awesome!
Today, Mother's Day, not so awesome.
My husband has been oncall all weekend, I have barely seen him. My kids were beastly today and it was pouring rain, trapping us inside. I could have gone to the gym but the time I got my act together the daycare was closed. They closed early for Mother's Day.
I dragged everyone to the grocery store, during the brief time Erik was home, so we could have some together time and get out of the house. A husband is almost as bad at the grocery store as 3 kids.
I planned to make an amazing dinner, because I love to cook. But Erik got called back to the hospital, so I cancelled it.
I let the kids play in the mud once it stopped raining, bathed them and put them to bed. Bekah was inconsolable, crying for her father. I ran out of patience. Now I feel like shit for yelling at her and want to wake her up and apologize.
But this Mother's Day is still marginally better than the Mother's Day we took the kids to Hooters for dinner.
Happy Mother's Day.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Spring Numbers
For the new readers of this blog I would like to inform you that every year I take pictures of my kids when their ages run concurrently. Since my oldest 2 are 17 months apart and my youngest 2 are 15 months apart, every spring they are very close in age, until my oldest's birthday in June. This year I am the proud owner of a 3,4 and 5 year old.
I used to do this big production where I cut out pieces of cardboard in the shapes of their ages and covered them with wrapping paper. I started off having them hold them, but then found it was easier to tape them to the wall above their heads.
This year I got almost no cooperation from them at all.
At first Mike completely refused, then Bekah and then Jake. This may be my last year doing this. I know the grandparents will be very disappointed.
Their tshirts say "I'm 3/4/5 what's your excuse?" My plan was for them to line up against the wall so you could read their tshirts. Whatever.
Summer Camps 2010
After picking up my 2 oldest kids from school, I informed them of all the wonderful camps and activities I spent the whole morning signing them up for. My 5 year old proceeded to give me an alternate list of camps that he would prefer to attend. All the way home from school he cracked himself up with these perfect camps:
Fart Camp
No Underwear Allowed Camp
Killing Sharks with Nerf Guns Camp
Weirdo Camp
Butt Camp (just in case you didn't get enough of Fart Camp), and
Wrestling With No Shirts On Camp
Sigh...........
Fart Camp
No Underwear Allowed Camp
Killing Sharks with Nerf Guns Camp
Weirdo Camp
Butt Camp (just in case you didn't get enough of Fart Camp), and
Wrestling With No Shirts On Camp
Sigh...........
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
A Writing Exercise
Once again I have landed myself in the hospital. Long story short; I tripped, fell on my face, the scrapes became infected with cellulitis and here I am getting I.V. antibiotics. To keep myself from begging the nurses for narcotics I have decided to choose a writing exercise. I like this one:
"List five products your father used, or uses, and write a longer piece about, at least, one of them. "
1) Swisher Sweets Cigars, that came in that red carboard box.
2) McDonald's Playland.
3)Brut Cologne
4) Polaroid Camera
5) Morton's Salt and Pepper shaker
I was born in 1970 and my brother was born in 1973. My mother and father got a divorce when I was just barely three years old. This action made my father a swinging single Dad, smack dab right in the middle of the Seventies.We spent every other weekend in his lackadaisical custody and his nappy headed daughter and snot-nosed son never slowed his MILF(mothers I like to F) hunting prowress. In fact it only greatly honed his skills. We were used as bait.
My Dad would pick us up on a Friday night with a Swisher Sweet Cigar lodged in his mouth. Rarely smoked, just chomped upon. And thank G-d for that because when lit they smelled anything but sweet, gag. Once those extra large cigar boxes were emptied of cheap cigars they were filled with fishing gear, nails and paperclips, and change for the Benicia toll bridge, these littered the floor of his truck. In his home the boxes were used to store pictures and receipts.
But I digress, when it was his weekend, he promptly picked us up and took us out to a fine Scottish dining establishment. McDonald's. But it had to have an outdoor Playland.
Once we parked his truck, with ladder on top, in the parking lot he would spit out his cigar and splash on some Brut cologne. Another completely offensive, yet comforting odor, from my childhood. I asked my Dad once how Brut cologne was made. My father told me that it came from a special gnat's armpits in Europe.
For years this answer haunted me. Many a sleepless night I wondered how they extracted this exotic pheromone from a gnat's armpit. Did the cologne lab technicians put the tiny gnat on a crucifix with I.V. needles and tubing sticking out of his armpits, draining away the precious scent? Or did they just catch the gnats with a very fine net, ground them with a mortar and pestle and then use a sieve to extract all liquids? Was the special armpit scent so strong that it overpowered the other liquified body parts, or did they have to extract only that particular fluid? And if it was so labor intensive to gather this manly scent then why was it so cheap?
Anyways, we would get our Happy Meals and eat at the picnic tables in the McDonald's Playland. My Dad would generously sprinkle his french fries with the Morton's salt he kept in the glove compartment of his truck.
After eating our food Billy and I would take off to play and my Dad would start prowling. McDonald's was an excellent place for single Moms to take their kids after work on a Friday night. My Dad was pure genius for figuring this out, because he was usually the only single Dad there. My Dad would approach his victim and put his foot up on the bench where she was seated and then lean on his knee and start chatting her up. If she shot him down, or seemed disinterested, my Dad would just move onto the next single mom. He was shameless! The next victim could be sitting less than 2 feet away but that did not deter him.
By the time me and Bill were started to get bored or tired my Dad would have at least one set of digits from a fine young mom. And the topper? He would take a polaroid picture. Two polaroid pictures. One of the cute mom and her kids which he would give to her and then one of all of us (he would use the timer setting) and he would keep that one. When we were back in the truck my father would write her name, the names of her kids and her phone number on the back of the polaroid for future reference.
Genius.
If she was lucky he would call her up for a date on a weekend when he was missing the company of his kids.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Facebook Politics
It's Easter morning. My dear husband let me sleep in and then he took my place in bed when I got up. I staggered downstairs for some coffee. Checked on the monkeys who were doing various monkey activities and then I sat down with my laptop.
My Aunt Kitty posted something about Sarah Palin in her Facebook status. Palin is speaking at CSUS (Stanislaus) at $5oo. a head. You wanna get my panties in a bunch? Just mention Sarah Palin. And I am not the only one who feels that way, because Aunt Kitty's friends started chiming in about what an idiot Palin is. But then my dear sweet Uncle Ron (Kitty's brother), is a conservative (my label, not his) and starts to relate a different point of view. And in his defense, makes an excellent point that we are attacking her on her personal views and not her political actions.
This was a great mental exercise for me, to remind me why I don't support Palin, that's it's not just because her voice makes me want to stick ice picks in my ears. And since I spent 30 minutes organizing my thoughts, I realized I had better put my mini-article on my blog. It took me 30 minutes instead of 5, because as soon as my kids get a whiff of me actually concentrating on something, they descend from the ceiling to harass me!
I had to bribe them with cookies at 9:30am, so I wouldn't sound like a shrill, pissed off, brainless liberal.I explained why I don't support Palin, but I also put some issues where I agree with her because I try to be fair. I mentioned Harry Belafonte, because he was also a guest speaker at Stanislaus State and that dude is even too liberal for me. Below is what I wrote on my Aunt's profile page:
"I am an idiot, but I don't put it out there and try to run for political office. I try to keep my idiocy to myself, and I don't always suceed at that.
I also do not like Harry Belafonte, America should not be like any country but America, we are the best.
As for political views, I have to say Palin is the most consistent on fiscal responsibility, except charging rape victims for their rape kits is repulsive. How would you like to get that bill in your mail?
Areas I agree on with Palin (and it makes me nauseous to admit this in public): fiscal responsibility, she's tough on crime, and has a mostly open mind on education (except for creationism). She supports automatic death penalty for child murderers, I can't argue with that. And I know everyone thinks I am a crazy liberal but I believe in the right to bear arms and eco-responsible hunting. You kill it you eat it, and you better make a jacket too. Sarah shoots wolves from a helicopter, that's effed up.
On social issues I am the polar opposite of her. I am unapologetically pro-choice,and pro-gay marriage. I dont' even understand how you can argue that evolution and global warming are anything but fact. And for goodness sake if my teenage daughter turned up pregnant, I would take myself out of the public spotlight. Sarah or her husband should have quit their job and reformed their family structure. Not drag their kids and newborn special needs son around the country.
Sorry Aunt Kitty for blowing up your profile."
So what is your family doing this fine Easter morning?
My Aunt Kitty posted something about Sarah Palin in her Facebook status. Palin is speaking at CSUS (Stanislaus) at $5oo. a head. You wanna get my panties in a bunch? Just mention Sarah Palin. And I am not the only one who feels that way, because Aunt Kitty's friends started chiming in about what an idiot Palin is. But then my dear sweet Uncle Ron (Kitty's brother), is a conservative (my label, not his) and starts to relate a different point of view. And in his defense, makes an excellent point that we are attacking her on her personal views and not her political actions.
This was a great mental exercise for me, to remind me why I don't support Palin, that's it's not just because her voice makes me want to stick ice picks in my ears. And since I spent 30 minutes organizing my thoughts, I realized I had better put my mini-article on my blog. It took me 30 minutes instead of 5, because as soon as my kids get a whiff of me actually concentrating on something, they descend from the ceiling to harass me!
I had to bribe them with cookies at 9:30am, so I wouldn't sound like a shrill, pissed off, brainless liberal.I explained why I don't support Palin, but I also put some issues where I agree with her because I try to be fair. I mentioned Harry Belafonte, because he was also a guest speaker at Stanislaus State and that dude is even too liberal for me. Below is what I wrote on my Aunt's profile page:
"I am an idiot, but I don't put it out there and try to run for political office. I try to keep my idiocy to myself, and I don't always suceed at that.
I also do not like Harry Belafonte, America should not be like any country but America, we are the best.
As for political views, I have to say Palin is the most consistent on fiscal responsibility, except charging rape victims for their rape kits is repulsive. How would you like to get that bill in your mail?
Areas I agree on with Palin (and it makes me nauseous to admit this in public): fiscal responsibility, she's tough on crime, and has a mostly open mind on education (except for creationism). She supports automatic death penalty for child murderers, I can't argue with that. And I know everyone thinks I am a crazy liberal but I believe in the right to bear arms and eco-responsible hunting. You kill it you eat it, and you better make a jacket too. Sarah shoots wolves from a helicopter, that's effed up.
On social issues I am the polar opposite of her. I am unapologetically pro-choice,and pro-gay marriage. I dont' even understand how you can argue that evolution and global warming are anything but fact. And for goodness sake if my teenage daughter turned up pregnant, I would take myself out of the public spotlight. Sarah or her husband should have quit their job and reformed their family structure. Not drag their kids and newborn special needs son around the country.
Sorry Aunt Kitty for blowing up your profile."
So what is your family doing this fine Easter morning?
Friday, April 2, 2010
World Autism Awareness Day
In the last year both of my sons have been diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorders. ADHD and PDD are both on the spectrum. Please go to this link because I need to haul my flabby ass onto the treadmill at my gym. Even though I would love to sit here and explain it to you myself, skip the work-out and eat cookies, I just shouldn't.
Anyways, as I was saying. It's been a challenging year, and Hell it's only April 2nd!! My dear boys are receiving the help they need, and my family has access to amazing resources. Not all families are as fortunate.
April 2nd 2010, that is today, is World Autism Awareness Day . Now that you know this all you need to do is wear blue. That's it.
Dig out your favorite blue jeans and remember 1 out of 110 kids have an Autism Spectrum Disorder.
It's also my husband's 40th birthday so buy him a beer next time you see him.
Happy Easter to all that do the bunny/Jesus thing and I hope everyone had a nice Passover.
Anyways, as I was saying. It's been a challenging year, and Hell it's only April 2nd!! My dear boys are receiving the help they need, and my family has access to amazing resources. Not all families are as fortunate.
April 2nd 2010, that is today, is World Autism Awareness Day . Now that you know this all you need to do is wear blue. That's it.
Dig out your favorite blue jeans and remember 1 out of 110 kids have an Autism Spectrum Disorder.
It's also my husband's 40th birthday so buy him a beer next time you see him.
Happy Easter to all that do the bunny/Jesus thing and I hope everyone had a nice Passover.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Bad Genes
I have sat on my ass, wasting time for 2 hours this morning! I kept my sweet 4 year old home from school for one more day to make sure she is 100% healthy, and she is entertaining herself. I could have done a lot of stuff in 2 hours instead of watching Max and Ruby with her, and screwing around on the Internet. But I am really, really anxious.
My dear, sweet, responsible husband, and I, have an appointment with a developmental pediatrician today. We are seeing her to come up with a plan of action in regards to our 5 year old's atrocious school behavior. And I feel like I am in trouble. I feel like I am being called to the Principal's office. And trust me I know exactly what that feels like.
I know because in first grade I got sent to the Principal's office for running away from school (and conning a friend to join me) because the teacher made me write lines. The lines were, "I will be quiet in class". Instead I wrote, "I will not shut-up in class" and then at recess me and Heather snuck off when the yard duty wasn't looking. It was really bad because they thought we had been kidnapped. That is the one and only time I have actually seen a person's face turn purple. The principal was a substitutePrincipal and he was sooo mad. As an adult I realize now what I put everyone through.
In the second grade I got sent to the Principal's office for refusing to pledge allegiance to the flag because of the phrase "under G-d". There is supposed to be a separation of church and state in America. I am still right on that one. I love G-d, and our flag, and I get goosebumps when I hear our anthem sung. I just get a bad feeling when we combine patriotism and religion. My mom was really embarrassed.
In the third grade they started the state testing (here in California) that our kids are tortured with now. And it was a big deal, just as it is now. When it came to gender, mark male or female, I made my own bubble, wrote the word "Other" next to it and filled it in. In my defense that wasn't my idea. Another girl dared me to do it, and I just can't resist a dare. Holy Crap that principal was mad. But he didn't call my mom. I came home and told my mom as a preemptive strike, and she laughed, and said, "I am so glad he didn't' call me and tell me that over the phone because I would have just laughed.". Phew, what a relief.
Remember in grade school when they would make you chew those red tablets that would stain the plaque on your teeth, to show you where you weren't not brushing adequately? I refused to do that. My reasoning being that my parents tax money could be better spent on academics, instead of wasting time picking up other parents slack when it comes to their children's poor dental hygiene. That teacher lasted one year at that school. That was 4th grade.
I could go on and on and on. But I need to shower and find an outfit that makes me look like a concerned parent. The point I am trying to make by sharing these anecdotes is I know exactly where my oldest child's behavior comes from. But if you ask me I just say, "He's exactly like my brother Bill.".
Sorry Mom.
My dear, sweet, responsible husband, and I, have an appointment with a developmental pediatrician today. We are seeing her to come up with a plan of action in regards to our 5 year old's atrocious school behavior. And I feel like I am in trouble. I feel like I am being called to the Principal's office. And trust me I know exactly what that feels like.
I know because in first grade I got sent to the Principal's office for running away from school (and conning a friend to join me) because the teacher made me write lines. The lines were, "I will be quiet in class". Instead I wrote, "I will not shut-up in class" and then at recess me and Heather snuck off when the yard duty wasn't looking. It was really bad because they thought we had been kidnapped. That is the one and only time I have actually seen a person's face turn purple. The principal was a substitutePrincipal and he was sooo mad. As an adult I realize now what I put everyone through.
In the second grade I got sent to the Principal's office for refusing to pledge allegiance to the flag because of the phrase "under G-d". There is supposed to be a separation of church and state in America. I am still right on that one. I love G-d, and our flag, and I get goosebumps when I hear our anthem sung. I just get a bad feeling when we combine patriotism and religion. My mom was really embarrassed.
In the third grade they started the state testing (here in California) that our kids are tortured with now. And it was a big deal, just as it is now. When it came to gender, mark male or female, I made my own bubble, wrote the word "Other" next to it and filled it in. In my defense that wasn't my idea. Another girl dared me to do it, and I just can't resist a dare. Holy Crap that principal was mad. But he didn't call my mom. I came home and told my mom as a preemptive strike, and she laughed, and said, "I am so glad he didn't' call me and tell me that over the phone because I would have just laughed.". Phew, what a relief.
Remember in grade school when they would make you chew those red tablets that would stain the plaque on your teeth, to show you where you weren't not brushing adequately? I refused to do that. My reasoning being that my parents tax money could be better spent on academics, instead of wasting time picking up other parents slack when it comes to their children's poor dental hygiene. That teacher lasted one year at that school. That was 4th grade.
I could go on and on and on. But I need to shower and find an outfit that makes me look like a concerned parent. The point I am trying to make by sharing these anecdotes is I know exactly where my oldest child's behavior comes from. But if you ask me I just say, "He's exactly like my brother Bill.".
Sorry Mom.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
My Take on American Idol
I feel the need to comment on American Idol but my husband is doing work. And when I spout off about American Idol on Facebook people unfriend me.
The first singer was that teen-aged girl that sang Kelly Clarkson. Torture!! Boringggg. This is when I miss Paula, because then she would say, "But you look pretty.".
I love that Siobhan chick!! She is the one who sang House of the Rising Sun because that's her Dad's favorite song. I thought she did an awesome job! And then Simon ripped on her. Who pissed in his Cheerios?
That one chick is trying too hard to look like Pat Benatar. Her hair bugs me and I thought she was a snooze fest. But the judges liked her so what the fuck do I know?
That chick with the really cool blond, curly hair sang Carole King and she sang it too fast. I like her too, I don't want her to fail.
I hope I don't have to repeat this every week, but if you are going to sing Stevie Nicks, Pat Benatar, Heart etc. don't fuck it up. Just don't. The judges loved that weepy girl who sang Rhiannon (one of my favorite songs in the universe) and I thought it was too shrieky.
I liked the girl named Kaitlyn mostly because I have a niece named Kaitlyn. But the song she chose was just too old for her. She needs to sing something bubbly. The judges agreed with me but they really didn't need to tear her a new asshole on live television............that was kind of harsh.
Siobhan and dread locked single mom are my favorite contestants this year. She sang Tracy Chapman tonight, which is a no-brainer perfect song for her. I thought for sure Simon was going to say that was a "too safe" song choice but he didn't!!
I am into mandolins and banjos and all that but I thought that frosted hair wanna be Blondie sucked! But the judges loved her too! I guess I just couldn't get the original "I Fall to Pieces" out of my head.
Tomorrow night are the men and they are no Adam Lamberts. The only guy I like was the Hispanic guy with the tattoo on his neck. He didn't go home did he? I can't even remember what happened last week. Shit if my short-term memory is this bad at 39, what am I going to be like when I am 89?
Oh nevermind, Erik looked it up for me and that guy is still on the show and so is the guy who should never wear a shirt. We are so nerdy sitting here with our dueling laptops.
The first singer was that teen-aged girl that sang Kelly Clarkson. Torture!! Boringggg. This is when I miss Paula, because then she would say, "But you look pretty.".
I love that Siobhan chick!! She is the one who sang House of the Rising Sun because that's her Dad's favorite song. I thought she did an awesome job! And then Simon ripped on her. Who pissed in his Cheerios?
That one chick is trying too hard to look like Pat Benatar. Her hair bugs me and I thought she was a snooze fest. But the judges liked her so what the fuck do I know?
That chick with the really cool blond, curly hair sang Carole King and she sang it too fast. I like her too, I don't want her to fail.
I hope I don't have to repeat this every week, but if you are going to sing Stevie Nicks, Pat Benatar, Heart etc. don't fuck it up. Just don't. The judges loved that weepy girl who sang Rhiannon (one of my favorite songs in the universe) and I thought it was too shrieky.
I liked the girl named Kaitlyn mostly because I have a niece named Kaitlyn. But the song she chose was just too old for her. She needs to sing something bubbly. The judges agreed with me but they really didn't need to tear her a new asshole on live television............that was kind of harsh.
Siobhan and dread locked single mom are my favorite contestants this year. She sang Tracy Chapman tonight, which is a no-brainer perfect song for her. I thought for sure Simon was going to say that was a "too safe" song choice but he didn't!!
I am into mandolins and banjos and all that but I thought that frosted hair wanna be Blondie sucked! But the judges loved her too! I guess I just couldn't get the original "I Fall to Pieces" out of my head.
Tomorrow night are the men and they are no Adam Lamberts. The only guy I like was the Hispanic guy with the tattoo on his neck. He didn't go home did he? I can't even remember what happened last week. Shit if my short-term memory is this bad at 39, what am I going to be like when I am 89?
Oh nevermind, Erik looked it up for me and that guy is still on the show and so is the guy who should never wear a shirt. We are so nerdy sitting here with our dueling laptops.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Pure Randomness
I have no particular subject to write about at this moment. My blogging/writing/creativity is suffering because I am no longer breastfeeding and my kids don't nap. When I first started blogging I would create blog posts in my head while breastfeeding, and then type them out during nap times. Those segments of "leisure" time no longer exist and now my brain is constantly preoccupied with monkey activities, or planning monkey activities. When I sit at my computer now I just play Farmville or some other time-waster on Facebook. Or I harass evil conservatives on Twitter or annoy the shit out of my mom friends by sending out stupid emails. Or I make up radio stations on Pandora, and then delete them later on.
I usually think of something brilliant to write just as I am falling asleep but when the morning rolls around I have already forgotten what it was. Now that my kids mostly sleep through the night, I don't remember those thoughts at 3am, because I roll-over and go back to sleep, or pee and then go back to sleep, or elbow my husband in the ribs to make him stop snoring and then go back to sleep. Instead of getting up to nurse, change a diaper, eat a bowl of cereal etc. etc.
I am not completely ready to give up blogging though. Not yet. I do have some random stuff in my head to share.
Remember that big ass earthquake that just happened in Chile? I had the news on that morning while my Dad was visiting and we were discussing it before my father slaughtered me at Scrabble. 3 days later I was driving in the van with the monkeys and Mike pipes up, "Mom where is your salami?"
"Salami?!"
"Yes, your salami, when is it going to come to San Ramon?"
"Salami?!! Mike what are you talking about?!!"
"Mom the big wave!! When is it going to hit us?"
I started to laugh so hard I swerved, and almost hit the center divider on San Ramon Valley Blvd.
"Honey that is a Tsunami, not a salami!"
Today Mike proclaimed that he is the master of all farts. I took a deep breath and composed a poker face and told him that was inappropriate. But seriously since Mike lives off of Dino nuggets and fruit he really is the master of all farts, so it was hard not to laugh. I just marvel at what his brain comes up with.
My youngest is thriving in speech therapy. In just a short time he went from gibberish and grunts to short sentences, and he is much easier to understand. The only quandary is that now he can ask for stuff and it's so wonderful to hear him talk that you just want to give it to him. Unfortunately he has learned how to ask for cookies, cupcakes, candy, or to go outside when it's raining etc. and it just breaks my heart to have to say no. I know how hard he works to communicate, and it is such a joy to hear his cute voice, but of course I still have to set the same rules with him as I do with Mike and Bekah. But shhhh, sometimes I do sneak him candy from my PMS stash.
Speaking of Jake his speech delay is significant enough to require special education preschool. I know it's what he needs but no parent wants to have their child need special education. I am just praying he will catch up with his peers by Kindergarten. And yes even though I am a dirty hippie Liberal, I pray. How can you be a mother and not pray? Even moms who are atheists pray, and if they say they don't pray, they are lying through their teeth!
So here is something that makes me angry..........how come nobody told me how sassy and bossy 4 year old girls can be?! When Mike turned 4 he went from a satanic 3 year to a really sweet 4 year old. I expected my daughter to do the same. But noooooo, she went from oppositional-defiant 3 year old to back-talking tyrant 4 year old. And I am actually kind of angry at my mom friends for not warning me. I know that sounds irrational, but damn what's the point of being in a mom's club and going outside of my comfort zone to make new friends if you all aren't willing to throw me a bone when it comes to new milestones. I am mostly kidding. I should know by now that every day, is a new day, when you are a parent. Just when you get used to a certain behavior their little brains and bodies go through a growth spurt and leave your aging ass, and brain, behind in the dust.
For example, I served my hazel eyed monster her breakfast the other morning and she actually said, "This is not what I ordered" and pushed her plate away. You know in cartoons when the person is so angry their face turns bright red and steam comes of their ears? That was me!
"Ordered?!! I am not a waitress!"
And that is not an insult to waitresses, because I am not smart enough to be a waitress. I would take somebody's order and get lost on the way to the kitchen, and then when I find the kitchen, I would forget the order. But I didn't take Bekah's "order" back to the kitchen. I remembered something I heard on Dr. Laura (OK her views on morals and politics don't mesh with mine but she occasionally has useful advice), when you feel like screaming, just sing. So I sang a lovely song to Bekah about how she had better eat her toast or she will be really hungry and cranky at school because I am not making anything else. Holy shit, it worked.
I have tried the singing instead of screaming a few more times with success. Only once has it backfired and Mike decided to sing a song back to me about how his mom is so stupid and mean and never lets him do anything fun. Which immediately made me scream for him to go on a time-out and I "forgot" about him for 15 minutes. I wonder what Dr. Laura would think about that?
Right now I am at the gym. I was just going to sit down and write something really quick and then work-out and shower and then watch Mike's Hip Hop class. It's the highlight of my week. A group of 5-8 year old boys doing Hip Hop. Freaking hilarious! One kid actually did the caterpillar. I have never seen a sober person do that outside of a bar. Well I got the writing down but now I have been summoned by the childcare staff to come get Bekah because she is refusing to go on a time-out, and kicked a teacher. Nice. I need to think of a song about how you should not abuse child care staff because we pay a lot of money to belong to this gym. Anyways........
I usually think of something brilliant to write just as I am falling asleep but when the morning rolls around I have already forgotten what it was. Now that my kids mostly sleep through the night, I don't remember those thoughts at 3am, because I roll-over and go back to sleep, or pee and then go back to sleep, or elbow my husband in the ribs to make him stop snoring and then go back to sleep. Instead of getting up to nurse, change a diaper, eat a bowl of cereal etc. etc.
I am not completely ready to give up blogging though. Not yet. I do have some random stuff in my head to share.
Remember that big ass earthquake that just happened in Chile? I had the news on that morning while my Dad was visiting and we were discussing it before my father slaughtered me at Scrabble. 3 days later I was driving in the van with the monkeys and Mike pipes up, "Mom where is your salami?"
"Salami?!"
"Yes, your salami, when is it going to come to San Ramon?"
"Salami?!! Mike what are you talking about?!!"
"Mom the big wave!! When is it going to hit us?"
I started to laugh so hard I swerved, and almost hit the center divider on San Ramon Valley Blvd.
"Honey that is a Tsunami, not a salami!"
Today Mike proclaimed that he is the master of all farts. I took a deep breath and composed a poker face and told him that was inappropriate. But seriously since Mike lives off of Dino nuggets and fruit he really is the master of all farts, so it was hard not to laugh. I just marvel at what his brain comes up with.
My youngest is thriving in speech therapy. In just a short time he went from gibberish and grunts to short sentences, and he is much easier to understand. The only quandary is that now he can ask for stuff and it's so wonderful to hear him talk that you just want to give it to him. Unfortunately he has learned how to ask for cookies, cupcakes, candy, or to go outside when it's raining etc. and it just breaks my heart to have to say no. I know how hard he works to communicate, and it is such a joy to hear his cute voice, but of course I still have to set the same rules with him as I do with Mike and Bekah. But shhhh, sometimes I do sneak him candy from my PMS stash.
Speaking of Jake his speech delay is significant enough to require special education preschool. I know it's what he needs but no parent wants to have their child need special education. I am just praying he will catch up with his peers by Kindergarten. And yes even though I am a dirty hippie Liberal, I pray. How can you be a mother and not pray? Even moms who are atheists pray, and if they say they don't pray, they are lying through their teeth!
So here is something that makes me angry..........how come nobody told me how sassy and bossy 4 year old girls can be?! When Mike turned 4 he went from a satanic 3 year to a really sweet 4 year old. I expected my daughter to do the same. But noooooo, she went from oppositional-defiant 3 year old to back-talking tyrant 4 year old. And I am actually kind of angry at my mom friends for not warning me. I know that sounds irrational, but damn what's the point of being in a mom's club and going outside of my comfort zone to make new friends if you all aren't willing to throw me a bone when it comes to new milestones. I am mostly kidding. I should know by now that every day, is a new day, when you are a parent. Just when you get used to a certain behavior their little brains and bodies go through a growth spurt and leave your aging ass, and brain, behind in the dust.
For example, I served my hazel eyed monster her breakfast the other morning and she actually said, "This is not what I ordered" and pushed her plate away. You know in cartoons when the person is so angry their face turns bright red and steam comes of their ears? That was me!
"Ordered?!! I am not a waitress!"
And that is not an insult to waitresses, because I am not smart enough to be a waitress. I would take somebody's order and get lost on the way to the kitchen, and then when I find the kitchen, I would forget the order. But I didn't take Bekah's "order" back to the kitchen. I remembered something I heard on Dr. Laura (OK her views on morals and politics don't mesh with mine but she occasionally has useful advice), when you feel like screaming, just sing. So I sang a lovely song to Bekah about how she had better eat her toast or she will be really hungry and cranky at school because I am not making anything else. Holy shit, it worked.
I have tried the singing instead of screaming a few more times with success. Only once has it backfired and Mike decided to sing a song back to me about how his mom is so stupid and mean and never lets him do anything fun. Which immediately made me scream for him to go on a time-out and I "forgot" about him for 15 minutes. I wonder what Dr. Laura would think about that?
Right now I am at the gym. I was just going to sit down and write something really quick and then work-out and shower and then watch Mike's Hip Hop class. It's the highlight of my week. A group of 5-8 year old boys doing Hip Hop. Freaking hilarious! One kid actually did the caterpillar. I have never seen a sober person do that outside of a bar. Well I got the writing down but now I have been summoned by the childcare staff to come get Bekah because she is refusing to go on a time-out, and kicked a teacher. Nice. I need to think of a song about how you should not abuse child care staff because we pay a lot of money to belong to this gym. Anyways........
P.S. I picked Bekah up from the daycare at our gym and I was furious. She had refused to go on a time-out for disobeying the staff and then proceeded to kick the staff. And as soon as Jake saw me then I had to pick him up as well because he started crying. We went for a walk to the van to put my gym bag away and I told Bekah she had better go back and apologize to her "teacher" or she will get no tv when we get home and no dance class tomorrow. That worked.
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