Sleep is for the weak!

My goodness...it seems I never make the time to get on here and blog anymore, but due to insomnia (a by-product of working as a bartender) here I am, giving all of you the fantastic opportunity to get another little piece of me.  I really should be in bed right now, considering I have class in less than 7 hours, and yet...something tells me that I need to write. 

By the way my dearest readers, I have a new website!!!

www.vodkaandmotherhood.com  Take your time to click on this link and you will be pleasantly suprised at the new spot.  :) Update your favorites as well!

Terrible Two's My Ass!

Whoever said "terrible twos" must have never had a child.  With both of my children, two was my favorite.  I mean, they were still talking with lisps, still very soft, cuddly, and cute. Sure, they said no and had a few minor meltdowns, but in the scheme of things, were still of the opinion that Mommy and Daddy make the rules and I am supposed to follow them.  I swear, when each of them turned 3, it was like an internal lightswitch was automatically flipped from off to on.  I have no idea how this happened; all that I know is that my children went from being loving, sweet-hearted, even-tempered little humans into whiny, meltdown every 15 minutes, "NO WAY!", crazy, hitting, angry little monsters. 

Has this happened in your house? 

What the hell happened?  This kid is 3.  Just so that you know.  He is challenging his mother, and winning!

I know it's not natural to actually beat your children, but I'm telling you, I've Ally McBealed some serious ass whoopings in my head.  I firmly believe that all mothers have this happen to them.  I think we're fine as long as we don't actually go through with the images. 

My little angels know just how to push Mommy's buttons.  And this tattle-taleing shit has got to stop as well.  "Mommy, Sissy won't let me play with her lion."  "Mommy, Bubba just got into the Play-Doh."  "Mommy, Bubba just bit me"  That one was my favorite.  Because they were playing "The Fox and the Hound"  and he was pretending to be a dog who bites.  I tell my kids that if someone is bleeding or otherwise seriously injured, come let me know.  Other than that, I expect you to be able to work things out between yourselves. 

Damn.  I love my kids.  They are the most wonderful, amazing, beautiful, funny, creative, genius things in my life.  They are all the most terrible, life-damaging, insanity challenging, time crunching, hair-pulling, vodka-drinking (oh wait, that's me), self-questioning, well, you get the point.  Unless you count their father.  That's a whole different blog.  :)

Twists and turns

My life is complicated.  No, not my marriage or my kids or anything.  Just the path that I am walking down.  I have a tendency to plan out these large, complicated goals for myself, and then find a reason why I can't actually accomplish them.  I graduate in December, which is awesome.  What's the problem you ask?  Well, what the hell am I going to do with myself after that?  Does anyone else out there find themselves in this situation?  I had a plan last year.  I was going to go to law school and fight for justice for those who can't fight for it themselves.  Then I realized just how much time that was going to take away from my kids.  Ya'll know I can't miss that much T-Ball!!  Plus there's the cost.  Where on earth was I going to come up with that money?  The idea of missing out on so much of my kids' lives and not being able to provide for them for three more years...well, that was just too much for me. 

So I changed my plan.  I decided that I would go and work for a government agency that would pay for me to get my Master's of Social Work, get my clinical hours in, and then be able to do private practice therapy, which is still a pretty darn good living.  Now I'm questioning that too.  I interned at this agency for a short period of time, and realized that I just can't do that kind of work.  It is too heart breaking and doesn't do enough problem solving for me.  I still want to do the Master's thing, and I know that I'll do it, but now I'm concerned about how I'm going to get there.  It's a scary thing, uncertainty.  I'm used to it, but it doesn't make life any less scary. 

I hope I pick the right path this time...I'm tired of running into walls.  Although the climbing over is good for my thighs. 

Money matters....

Money means a lot.  It can mean the difference between healthcare or no healthcare.  (For me its a no healthcare, lol).  It can mean McDonald's or Olive Garden.  It can mean electricity on or off.  It also means a lot of fights and heartache.  A world without money would not turn round very well, but sometimes I wonder if all the headache about money is truly worth the headache.  I have gotten pretty good at controlling our money outflow in our household.  It's that input that keeps getting to me.  My hubby works extra hard to get his ass out there and bring us in the dollars, but it just seems that those dollars are getting shorter and shorter these days. 

I've been blessed enough to not have to work for the last 5 months or so, but I recently picked up a new bartending job because we are stretched beyond our input, once again.  I've even become one of those crazy coupon ladies that you see on TLC.  And the kids don't get it.  Hell, Emily thinks that we're rich!  She even told me so!  Apparently money is of no consequence to them, and why should it be?  They shouldn't have to worry about Mom and Dad not being able to pay for the fun stuff.  Most of the time they don't...they're just happy to be loved by everyone in our house.  They have what they need, and a lot of what they want. 

So why can't I get over it?  I know that I'm blessed, beyond measure, but is it really so wrong to not want to have to worry about the dollars in the bank?  I know that our future is right around the corner, and I know in my heart that we will not have to live like this forever. I know that we have a plan, and we're going to get there.  Right now I think I need to spend a little more time volunteering, because seeing the lives that I do when I volunteer helps me remember that I am SOOOOO beyond blessed.  Life could be much worse, in so many ways.  So many people are out there struggling even more than I am, so I need to just get over myself, give my family a big kiss, and keep on walking.  :)

I'm BAAACK!!

It's been awhile my friends.  I am sorry, life has been crazy!  As if you didn't understand.  :)  I've been catching up with my kids and husband, school, work, all the things that keep me from writing this blog.  I've had to take two trips home to California, which shook me to my core.  But here I am, back in all my mommy glory!

The kids are doing well...crazy as ever, but well.  Emily just finished up her Pre-K and Ethan is finally potty trained!  YEA!!!  We are trying to figure out daycare for the summer, because daddy is busy busy busy, and mommy is working as well as doing my internship and two summer classes.  This next month is going to be C-R-A-Z-Y.  But it should be well worth it.  Once summer is done, one more semester and I will be officially a college graduate.  Who knows where life will go from there, but I will have a bachelor's degree.  The plan is to go to work and get my Master's at the same time, but really, does life ever go as planned?  Maybe that's just me. 

My kids are playing Brother Bear right now, which consists of them yelling at each other over who is which bear.  They crack me up.  I'm going to meet a friend and take them out of the house to the kids museum here in town.  Gonna wear them out good, so that they'll go to bed early tonight.  Ha~yeah right.  I have to say, life is a crazy train that I jumped on board and I'm just riding until I reach whatever destination God takes me.  We're still struggling, but I think that the struggle is the part that makes it all worthwhile.  One of these days we will look back and say, "Look what we made it through.  Wasn't that crazy?  You remember the time...." 

Live it!  Love it!  Have a blast everyone! 

Time out time!

I am sitting at my computer, looking around my house and thinking that I'd rather be at the bar right now.  Ha!  Yeah, right.  Like I have time for the bar.  My list of things to do today is rather long and intimidating, although I have already done a 20 minute presentation in class as well as meet with my advisor.  Not to mention the fact that I took my dad to pick up coffee and grabbed some protein shakes at GNC.  I do still have to clean my house and run some errands today, plus the T-Ball game this evening.  Oh yeah, and I have to get creative with some penises.  (I'm having a passion party tomorrow night  yea!)

Have you ever had to argue with someone about something that you know is right, but they refuse to even entertain the option?  I did that this morning.  No, it wasn't my children, although Ethan and I have that same argument about green vegetables every evening.  You all know that I am in college, and that I graduate in December.  I was all prepared for my final semester to be a relaxing 12 hour, easy semester.  But lo and behold, Texas Tech will not accept my Speech transfer credit as the communication hours that I need.  That's what the meeting with the advisor was about.  I sat in the office, tears threatening to spill over onto her desk, and yet she unwaverinly tells me that it's just not going to happen.  C'mon!!!  I have a 4.0 GPA and waaaaaaay too many credit hours to number.  Let me have this one!  I'm so frustrated that I have to spend another $800 for a class that, in my opinion, will no better prepare me for my career. 

And so I lose.  Which sucks for me.  But I suppose I will take the stupid class, get my A, graduate, and wave goodbye to Lubbock and Texas Tech as I drive into the sunset toward California.  Ugh.  I mean, it sounds great, really, just not the whole take that extra class part. 

I'm gonna go put on some music and dance with my mop now.  Lady Gaga therapy, here I come!!

Spring break equals spring cleaning!!

Wow.  Spring break is over.  I can't believe how fast time goes by anymore.  It seems that my elders were correct when they told me that the older I got, the faster it would fly.  I try to tell my kids that, but they react with the same nonchalance that I had when I was a kid.  Plus, I'm Mom.  What do I know? 

We had a great spring break this year.  I spent time with both kids, together and one on one.  We also made some new friends who happen to live extremely close.  Married, with three kids, so we've got lots of commonalities.  Love it!  We've been visiting a lot over spring break.  Oh, and my daughter is totally in love with her son.  It's hilarious.  She told me yesterday that he is her boyfriend.  HA!  I threatened to tell him what she said and she turned red as she begged me to keep my mouth shut.  Hilarious!

Because it was spring break I though that I would get my house cleaned.  You know, all nice and tidy and such.  I even had the great idea of having a yard sale.  I pulled everything out of the shed and the house that I could, bought some doughnuts and lemonade for the kids to sell to customers, and woke up early on the morning of the sale.  As I was getting everything ready I realized that there were ominous looking clouds looming above my head.  I decided not to worry about it, as I had already gotten everything out of the house.  I mean, it hasn't really rained all season, so why would this day be any different?  I continued arranging all of our old crap that we were trying to push off onto unsuspecting customers, I realized that I had not had one customer. 

Usually by around 9 there are plenty of earlybirds at a yard sale.  This Saturday though, nothing.  What was going on????  Where was everyone?  I felt a drop of rain on my cheek.  Oh hell no.  But yes, it sure was. 

The rain started coming down for about 1-2 minutes.  It left fat water droplets on everything, including the electronics.  I looked at my yard sale in dismay and made a decision.  Fuck this.  I started grabbing TV's and stomped into the house.  Shit!~  I was cussing out the world as I carried everything back inside.  This is what I get for trying to clean my house.  Now my house looks like an episode of Hoarders rather than the sparkling clean image from a Betty Crocker magazine.  The Salvation Army is coming to pick up most of it tomorrrow.

I did manage to sell a bunch of the old crap on craigslist later on that day, which made me feel a tad bit better about spending my spring break on a useless task.  I still plan to get this house cleaned, but as I look around at my life and all of the stuff that's in it, I realize that even if I get rid of everything, my husband will surely come home with a truckload of stuff to replace it.  And so it goes.

Information station...no thanks!

I have realized that most of my readers do not like the informational articles that I post.  What's the matter?  Already bombarded by the torrent of terrible news each day?  I suppose I'll keep ya'll happy and stick with the stuff you like...humor about myself and my kiddos.  :)

So yesterday was crazy.  That's right, crazy.  It was a mommy day that equals bitter-sweet.  We had a packed day, so we got started early.  We woke up at around 9 (hey, that's early for the first day of spring break), and got ready to go to the gym.  I did some paperwork when I realized that my class wasn't until 11:30 and the kids finished up with tooth brushing and hair getting did.  We jumped in the car at about 10:30 when I realized that we hadn't gotten a present for the birthday party we were attending later. 

ZOOM!  I start to back the car out of the driveway when Ethan says," MOMMY!!!  You haf to buckle me up!!" 

Oops!  I stop the car and reach into the backseat to get him safely tucked into his booster.  I continue to back down the driveway and make it to the mall in record time.  We run (literally) through the mall in a mad search for Claire's.  My daughter picks out some overpriced little girl goodies and we run (literally again) back out to the car, after a quick stop into Victoria's Secret of course.   

We get back into the car and hit it down the road toward the gym.  I get the kids into their little classroom, which is awesome by the way.  I even want to play in there!  Anyway, I go into the workout room and start up an hour and a half FIESTA! workout.  It was pretty amazing, just so that you know.  If you have a chance to do it, do it.  Once the workout is over I smell and look terrible, so I go into the ladies room to refresh myself a bit, which doesn't really work.  I go and grab the kids and we rush home.

At home, I jump into the shower after throwing a crappy lunch together for the kids.  I wash the stank off of myself and thrown some clothes on. 

"EMILY!!  Are you dressed for T-Ball????"

Of course not.  So we rush to find a red shirt, because of course their uniforms STILL aren't in.  She's been borrowing Ethan's shirts, because we seem to have a shortage in her closet. Yup, my 5 year old can wear my 2 year old's clothing.  He is huge.  I grab some snacks for Ethan during the game, throw Emily's hair into some messy pigtails and off we go.

We get to the game and my husband is already there.  He's been at work all morning, but made time to come watch Em play.  :)  He and I take turns chasing our 2 year old around and trying to coach our little catcher, who played pretty damn well, I'll have you know.  We watch the Rangers play their little hearts out, struggling to catch up with the other team, which seems to have a neverending lineup of star hitters.  The game is over and we didn't win, but the team is upbeat, nevertheless.  We walk away from the tournament and drive home to get ready for the birthday party. 

Emily whines about wanting to wear her T-Ball uniform to show her friend, and then we argue about why it's not really very good birthday party attire.  Plus she was staying the night with her friend and I needed to throw the red shirt and pants into the washer.  I finally get her to put on a cute striped green shirt with some blue jeans, fix her hair yet again, and once again we make our way toward another destination. 

We get to the birthday party, filled with kids, most around 7 and under, who are eager to bowl, eat, and play the assortment of games that lights an entire section of the building we are in.  The kids get their bowling shoes on and play a couple of rounds of awful bowling.  Remember, these are little kids, so they can barely make the ball all the way down the aisle.  My son even got one stuck at one point.  Oh, and did I mention that he ran down the aisle a couple of times, busting his head at least once?  That kid is a walking concussion.  Once we got a ramp for them the games finally got moving.  They had a blast, and all of the adults, who outnumbered the kids by about 3:1, had fun watching them. 

Well, mostly.  Ethan was entertained for about 10 minutes.  After that, he decided that my workout at the gym that morning had not been enough.  He proceeds to run away at every available chance, and I have to chase him down and bring him back.  This continues throughout the party...birthday cake, presents, everything.  I even had to enlist the help of the staff at one point in order to locate my little delinquint.  By the end of the party, Ethan is so tired that he probably won't go to sleep later, if you know what I mean.  We gave Emily her kisses goodbye (this is her first real sleepover), and I walk away wondering if she will miss us tonight. 

Did I tell you that Ethan is PISSED?  He is so mad that he doesn't get to go with his sister.  In his mind, this is complete bullshit.  He ALWAYS goes with sissy!!  "Why can't I go??????? I want to go with my sissy!!"

We calm him down by way of rock music and the gentle sway of the car as we drive toward our house.  We decided that since Emily was gone, what a great night to have a date night!  My dad agrees that if Ethan is asleep, he'll have no problem keeping an eye on him for a couple of hours.  So we try to get Ethan to fall asleep.  Alas, no.  It is not to be.  The child who has not slept in a full day is STILL pissed off that Emily is not home and he is.  So he cries.  And he whines.  And he fights.  And finally...wait, is he.....fast asleep. 

By this point, I don't know if I want to go on a date; I am so ready to fall on my pillow.  My husband convinces me that it will be fun, so I get dressed and we head out.  We go to our favorite restaurant and eat some delicious Iron Chef looking food (I'm telling you, this place is phenomenal).  I am stuffed and tell him that I want to go home and put myself into a food coma.  He says, "No!  We're going OUT!"  Sweet man.  He takes me to an indoor mini putt putt golf course and we have a blast playing.  We haven't been out on a real date like this in SOOOO long.  We even took those goofy pictures together.  You know, the 4 pictures on strip with goofy faces?  Yeah, it was fun.  We play a game of table hockey and I smash my finger hard enough for it to go numb, and so we end the night. 

As my head hit the pillow I realized just how worn out I am.  And yet, I feel happily fulfilled.  What a day, what a day.

Whew!

Have you ever been to a workout class at the gym?  If you haven't, I'm certain that you have at least seen those late night infomercials touting their new kick-ass workout series.  You know, the ones with the cute tiny hot chicks and the muscled up guys who make it look oh so easy.  Bastards.  I swear...it's like they know exactly what will sell us!  All of us poor chubby mommys who just want to lose a bit of that baby fat that never went away.  Maybe that's just me. 

Anyway, I decided to start going to classes at the gym.  My kids are getting really big...the whole "It's just baby weight," thing is getting old, even to my ears.  Plus, when my daughter says things like," Your legs wouldn't look like that if you would work out all the time Mommy"  first I feel like slapping her, but then I realize she's right.

So on Monday, I took my saggy butt in all it's cellulite glory to the Power Hour class at my gym.  I wasn't sure what to expect, but I knew I needed it, so I put on a sports bra and some yoga pants with an old tank top, grabbed my water bottle and made it there right before the class started.  I get into the class and I can see that I am surrounded by seasoned class takers.  SHIT!  Why couldn't these people all be newbies like me?  They've got like 40 pounds on each side of their weight bars and I grab the 5 pounders, because I just have this feeling that I definitely won't make it with anything more. 

As we get started, I realize just how out of shape I am.  The teacher keeps telling us to "come on!  You can do it!!"  And I do it, but at about 20 minutes into the workout (this last for an hour by the way) my legs are literally trembling as I attempt to keep up with the ridiculous amounts of squats, lunges, and lifts.  I look in the mirrors that seem to be everywhere around me and I see this crazy red mess of  a fat girl looking back at me as sweat drips down her forehead.  Wait, is that me???  Holy crap.

45 minutes in I realize that I have made it through most of this workout.  I only had to stop a few times!  I think that the idea of not being able to keep up with everyone else was embarassing, so I stayed in it.  I pushed myself all the way through.  GO ME!!!!  I was so proud of myself as we were cooling down with some stretches. 

I made it through the rest of Monday, and the utter pain that I was in from that last workout.  I even got my fat ass out of bed this morning and went to a new class...ULTIMATE WORKOUT!!!  I'm really glad I went, because I feel much more loose than I did before class, but to be sure, every part of me was jiggling in the mirror with the same red face as last time. 

But I felt good!  I mean, really good.  I love to work out; it's such a mood enhancer, plus it gives me an excuse to eat a cookie or twelve.  Well, maybe not twelve, but still.  Stay on the lookout for some pics.  I am so serious about this weight loss thing.  I'm ready to be hot and sexy for the summer.  Anybody want to join me?  Think of this as a weight loss challenge...

The tooth fairy

My daughter lost her first tooth yesterday.  It was a dramatic event, to be sure.  Now, she already has one missing from the top from an unnatural loss a year ago, but this one came out on it's own.  She was terrified.  I'm not kidding.  I'm sure every kid goes through their moments of terror, but this is my diva, so you know she was overwhelmed with emotion. 

Friday, her teacher wanted to pull it.  Emily said no, no, no.  So we get home and she is playing with it with her tongue all night.  I keep trying to get her to let me pull it, but apparently, it's gonna hurt.  This continues into Saturday, with Mommy continuously trying to get her to let me pull it out in a variety of different ways. 

That evening, I decide to try YouTube.  You know, to show her some videos about kids getting their teeth pulled.  She laughed and said, okay, it doesn't hurt them.  She was still unconvinced that it wouldn't hurt her.  And logic does seem that a tooth coming out should be painful, or at least to me it does. 

Sunday was a good day.  We finished planting our lawn in the backyard, the kids bounced on the trampoline, and we played t-ball for about an hour.  We had a great day!  Everyone had a good time and forgot about the tooth.  Until Sunday evening, when Emily started to cry and tell me that it was now hurting her.  I told her to come closer so that I could look at it. 

"Yup!  That tooth is definitely ready to come out!" I said to her with my hand gently rocking it back and forth.

She smiled, extra big this time, and quick as a flash I grabbed ahold of that little sucker and popped it out of her mouth. 

If you would have heard her scream, you would have thought I stabbed her in the leg with a kitchen knife.  I really wish I had had the presence of mind to grab the video camera first.  Her face is bright red, almost purplish at this point.  But wait, what is that?  Giggles?  This can't be! 

Emily is now delighted that her tooth is out!!  The drama is over as she laughs in a voice that would put a hyena to shame.  She looks in awe at her tiny baby tooth and says, "Now I get MONEY!!!"

As she rushes to put the tooth under her pillow I can't help but smile.  My baby really is growing up...and I'm loving every minute of it!

One Happy Girl

I am a happy girl.  Yes, that's right, I am a happy happy girl.  I look around my life and I feel blessed beyond measure.  My children are crazy kids, but I love them and am loved in return.  My husband is often a pain in my ass, but more often his love for me is all reaching.  My dad, well...I just love my dad.  He can make me smile and make me mad, often at the same time.  :)  The rest of my family is out of reach, but never out of touch.  We have our lights on, a heater, an air conditioner, two vehicles, one of which is paid off.  We have a home, pets who also love us, friends who are like family, and laughter.  We work hard, play harder, and try to live our lives to the fullest.  My education has inspired me in ways that I never would have imagined 3 years ago.  We have had fights and made mistakes, and learned from both.  We have had great times and bad times, and both have given us room to grow, as people, and as a family. 

I love that I can list all of the positive things about my life.  It is often easier to regard the negative and find it in every aspect of our lives.  The negative always stands out more than the positive, doesn't it?  I mean, I guarantee that I can remember all the bad things that happened this week, but the positive things are harder to recollect.  And so I try to stay positive.  Yeah, some days I lose sight of who I am and who I want to be.  Some days I am an asshole to everyone.  Some days I want a beer to fuzzy me up a bit.  And that's ok.  It's alright to have a shitty day, week, or even a year.  Life has a tendency to slap us around a bit.  But I always come back to the question, "Where do I find my happy place?"  For me, it is at home with my family.  I love laying in bed with my husband, wrestling around with my kids, having a family t-ball game in the backyard.  But my safety zone is with my family.  For some it is in a church, surrounded by God.  For others it may be at the beach, with the serenity of the ocean cascading in the background.  Close your eyes and picture it.  Now, after Tinkerbell sprinkles her magic fairy dust on you, you'll be able to fly!!!! 

HAHAHA!!!  Have a great day!

Bad mommy!

Ok, so I'll admit, I'm a procrastinator.  I have a tendency to put things off until the last minute.  I was a bad mommy this week and kept promising Emily that I would make her lunch.  Then I would forget.  Bad mommy.  So today, when she asked me where her lunch was, I told her that I would bring it to her at lunchtime.  I woke up at 10:00 and thought about it at 10:30.  I haphazardly threw a peanut butter sandwich, a plum, some craisins and pecans, and a cupcake into her lunchbox, thinking that their class doesn't eat lunch until 11 anyway (the school is literally right down the street). 

I look like shit at this point, no shower, nothing to evidence that I've been anything but a lazy bitch all morning.  I'm pretty sure I hadn't even brushed my teeth.  Now I'm not just a lazy bitch, but a nasty bitch too!  I throw on some jeans and hope that the coffee breath covers up the stank breath.  Grabbing her lunchbox I run out the door and race toward the school. 

I get into the school and notice her class sitting in the cafeteria, eating lunch.  Her teacher sees me with the lunchbox and is waaaaay too excited, but with cause.  Apparently another kid in Emily's class has the same lunchbox as her, and Emily thought that I had already brought her lunch.  Can you say meltdown?  She cried to her teacher because she thought mommy wasn't coming.  Teacher let her pass out the milks, which calmed her down, but I swear, you should have seen her face when she saw me come up behind her with her lunchbox full of goodies.  I saw God today, through my child's happiness of fulfilled promises.  She pushed aside her lunch tray full of mystery meat and grabbed her handpacked lunch with a smile that I don't get to see often enough.  It was beautiful.  She hugged me before I left and whispered,"Thank you Mommy!" in my ear. 

Oh happy day, you bad mommy!  As I drove home with my smelly breath and dirty jeans, I knew that I had just made one of those moments you don't recognize often enough in life.  Sure, I could have let her eat her lunch at school and made up an excuse for why I didn't come, but how would that have affected my child in the long run?  We can't always be everything for everyone, but we should be what we can.  And I think I just was.

What the hell?

So, some lady left her 12 year old kid at home for a week by herself.  Now, I don't care who you are but 12 years old is not old enough to be left in a house ALONE for a week!  This poor girl was so scared that she wouldn't even take a shower because the front door wouldn't lock properly.  What in the hell was this mom thinking?  I realize that 12 is old enough to be left alone for short periods of time.  It's even technically old enough, in most states, to babysit other children.  And perhaps this little girl is extremely mature for her age.  For me, however, 12 years old is not old enough to care for oneself for an entire WEEK!  Where was mommy, by the way?  Was she taking a little vacation in Vegas?  Business trip perhaps?  No, that crazy bitch took off to Washington to go and get married.  Should have known that it was for a guy, because we all know that guys should take precedence over our children.  I mean, they need a father, right????   Not that it really matters.  Regardless of where she went, she was playing with her child's life, both physically and emotionally.  You would think that even a truly fucked up mom would make sure that the door would lock before they left.  The mother's response to all the accusations?

Haines told police she "could not provide a reasonable explanation" for leaving the girl alone and "admitted making a 'mistake' and that she had been 'selfish,'" according to the affidavit. 

I guess that makes it all better, mom.  Gosh, it's so refreshing to see a parent admitting their selfish mistakes.  I hope that admission helps you get together your $100,000 bail! 

Please post any and all opinions!

The value of friendship

Everyone has those friends.  You know, the ones that you can not see for extended periods of time, but when you see them you instantly fall back into the old routine of banter, laughter, and conversation.  Most people are not blessed with many of these friends, and I am lucky enough to have more than a few.  I love the way I can go for months, sometimes even years without speaking to my besties but it doesn't matter.  It's like we never skipped a beat once we do talk again. 

In life we create relationships with people.  That is, essentially, what God designed us to do.  To love is to be loved, and the more relationships we build with others the more love we allow ourselves to give and receive.  Some people think that more people in your life will just overcomplicate it.  I say, yes, it takes hard work to be a part of a relationship.  Any relationship.  One must make an effort to connect, even if at random times, with those we wish to have in our lives.  But for me, the end result of relationships is usually worth it.  The harder I work at any relationship, the more rewarding it typically is. 

Don't get me wrong, I am not saying that every relationship is worth continually working toward.  Relationships, in all their beauty, are two-way streets.  If one person is driving their way down the road and trying to reach the other person, but the other person fails to put gas into their car and doesn't at least attempt to meet them halfway, the relationship will, in the end, be futile.  Some relationships are so dysfunctional that they are learning experiences, but short-lived. 

My relationships with my friends are complicated.  Some friends are high maintenance.  Some are low maintenance.  Some blow in for a season, only to be gone for the next.  Many are somewhere in the background, usually silent, but their presence always felt.  I love all of my friends from high to low, fights to laughter, long time friends and newer friends alike.

If you are my friend and you are reading this, know that I'm only a phone call away.  I might not answer the first time, but I will always call you back.  I love you even when I'm busy with the distractions of life, and know that I will never take your friendship or love for granted. 

Sometimes we all just need to pick up a phone and call!  Life is short and precious, but it is even more precious with people we love and who love us in it.  :)

Concealed Handguns on Campus????

Concealed Handgun Licensure being brought onto coleege campuses is a topic that affects millions of students and their lives.  Because of the extremity of this subject, many people are scared into jumping into their opinion without first educating themselves.  It is a heavy subject, to be sure, because it does involve so many people and their children.  As with any high profile subject, the people on each side have valid points that everyone should be aware of.

According to the proponents for CHL:

1.  We are not proposing "arming" students on campus.  We are simply allowing those who have already sucessfully completed training and already possess a CHL to continue to do so while on campus.  This includes police, ROTC, and professors. 

2.  Even though the odds are low that it will occur on you campus, you should still be proactive and be able to defend yourself if necessary.  We put fire alarms in our houses to prevent housefires.  We use seatbelts in our cars even though we probably won't wreck on our way to work.  Why should this be any different?

3.  Why would a rule of no guns allowed keep out criminals whose very intent is to break the law?  If a criminal wants to come on campus with a gun, they will do it, whether or not there are signs stating that guns are not allowed.  This actually makes college campuses more attractive to killers because they are easy targets with no means of self-defense.

4.  Any institution who cannot guarantee protection to it's visitors must not deprive those visitors of the ability to protect themselves. 

5.  According to crime statistics and inquiries to campus officials, there hasn’t been a single reported instance of shootouts, accidents or heated confrontations resulting from concealed carry on campus. In fact, Colorado State University’s crime rate has declined steadily since allowing concealed carry. While no one can irrefutably claim this is due to concealed carry, we can at least state with certainty that allowing concealed carry does not increase risks to a campus population and may even help (ConcealedCampus.com, 2011).


6.  There are plenty of crimes on campuses that are not necessarily gun related, but would be prevented by the ability to bear arms.  Currently 9 sexual assults are reported on campuses each day (ConcealedCampus.com).  These might have an opportunity to be prevented if the people who were being assaulted were able to carry a gun in order to protect themselves.


Those who are against CHL's on campus have this to say:

1.   Campus mental health professionals fear guns on campus would lead to an increase in suicides — the second leading cause of death among college students (Wermund, 2011).  To have handguns in easily attainable places, such as college dorm rooms is only giving more access to already unstable students.

2.  Campus police are worried about distinguishing between "the bad actor" and people defending themselves when both have drawn guns (Wermund).  This is a valid argument.  How would the police be able to distinguish one student from another if they both have guns pointed at each other?  What if the hero is then turned into the martyr? 

3.  With combustible materials present in science labs and hospitals across campuses, some have expressed concern that firing a gun in certain places "may have consequences well beyond what one may expect in other environments,(Wermund)."

4. Oklahoma chancellor of higher education Glen Johnston, quote from Yahoo News says, “There is no scenario where allowing concealed weapons on college campuses will do anything other than create a more dangerous environment for students, faculty, staff and visitors (The Tartan, 2011).”

5.  The overall environment is unsafer with a high ratio of guns on campus overall.  There is no reason to put more guns on campus when a campus is statistically a safer place than other well populated areas.  Giving more people access to guns is just adding fuel to a fire.

I have to say, after reading all of the arguments both for and against guns on campus, my mind has been somewhat changed.  The statistics truly show that when concealed guns are prohibited, the crime rate goes up, not down.  It drops significantly when citizens are allowed to carry guns.  If this same idea is applied to college campuses we may actually be safer with more guns on campus.  I don't, however, like the idea of just any Tom, Dick, or Harry to become vigilante gun carriers.  I think that if guns are allowed on campus, those who carry them must not only have a valid CHL, but there should also be new tactical advisory classes specifically for those who intend to carry while on a campus.  We must remember that the first and foremost concern is the safety of ALL students.  Just because the police have a low rate of hitting their targets as well does not mean that we should allow everyone to have a gun.  It is ludicrous to imagine that someone who simply goes to the basic training that is provided for CHL holders can now protect themselves and everyone else on college campuses.  If you intend to become the protector of students and faculty, there should be some sort of extra training required. 

And that's my opinion today!

I'm so full!

Okay, so I'm going to admit something to you.  I love food.  Seriously.  I love it.  But at the same time, I don't want to be unhealthy.  It's truly a pickle, which sounds good, by the way.  I like to exercise too, which is a good thing and usually balances my big ass out, but I don't think I'll ever be a size 2, no matter what I do. 

And it is so difficult to be a healthy mom when I am constantly barraged with food associated with my children!  I mean, what is with the girl scout cookies???  I love them, don't get me wrong, but why can't I just buy my 2 box quota and be done with it??  I don't need 25 boxes; I'd rather just donate my money or buy a t-shirt or something.  Which will be a 2XL by the time I finish these cookies, I'll have you know.  And the boy scouts have popcorn, right?  But not regular popcorn, no...this stuff is loaded with caramel, cheddar cheese, or butter.  Not to mention the cookie dough sales that the schools have.  And it's funny too, that everyone says wintertime is weight gain time, but isn't there a holiday every month? 

January has New Year's and the Super Bowl.  Try staving off calories during that.  Not gonna happen. 

February has Valentine's Day.  What is the gift of choice?  CHOCOLATE!  (My favorite, btw).
March has St. Patrick's Day, and you can't tell me that you won't drink at least one green beer.  Beer=calories.  It also=delicious. 

April has Easter, which means good home cooking plus all the candy in the kid's Easter baskets.  Someone remind me what a rabbit who lays eggs has to do with Jesus?

May has the Cinco de Mayo....hello every delicious type of Mexican food you can think of!  Plus Mother's Day, which means a dinner out, of course.

June has Father's Day, but it is also the real beginning of summer, which means barbeques full of meat, beans, and every type of mayonaisse based salad you can think of (potato, macaroni, broccoli, etc.)

July has the 4th of July, which is another barbeque and candy thrown at the local parade.  Then even more barbeques, am I wrong?

August might be the only month that doesn't have anything in it, but it DOES signify the end of summer, to which we must throw at least 1-5 get togethers and bbq some more.  :)  Hello again, potato salad!

September has Labor Day weekend, which means the entire weekend is full of bad choices including that final barbeque and campout with smores and more beer.

October has Halloween, and we all know that Halloween is the Chocolate Lover's Wet Dream.  (That would be me).  5 lbs, minimum, both of chocolate and on my ass.

November we throw in Thanksgiving, because, let's face it, who doesn't want to stuff their face with turkey, stuffing, every side we can think of, and grandma's homemade pie?  I know I'm already waiting!

December is Christmas, complete with parties at school, home, and everywhere in between.  Then you have Christmas day, with stocking candy and more FOOD!!! 

Let's not even get into all of the birthday parties that we attend as parents.  This means cake, cake, cake, oh and throw a little ice cream on top of that will ya?  Just a small piece for me, but nah, go ahead, we're celebrating, right? 

Sound familiar. I think you get my point.

The way I roll...

I love my family.  That's the way I roll.  Some people have amazing, connected families.  I wish I could claim that.  My brothers and sister and I are connected through love of each other and trials that we have shared, and my dad is great.  Ever senile, but still great.  My nuclear family has been extremely disfunctional my entire life, which doesn't surprise me, because there is no such thing as a normal family.  I do, however, tend to get overanimated when it comes to my mother.  It's so Freudian, isn't it?  Blame it on the mother.  That's where the problems lie.  People think that Freud was a whack job, and yes, he was, but the whole mother connection thing does have validation.  I don't think that we all have Oedipal complexes, but I do think that there is something to be said about the relationship that is formed or not formed between a child and their mother.  The fact that I still ache for a connection with my mother tells me that it cannot be taken lightly, regardless of the trauma that happens in a child's life.  The fact that I care so much about someone else's actions means that even when I deny giving a shit, I still do.

They tell you, "You can pick your friends, but you can't pick your family."  I say that is wrong, wrong, wrong.  I picked my husband.  I picked my friends, who are more like family to myself, my husband, and my kids than some of my blood relatives.  Maybe they picked me.  Who knows?  But the bond of mother and daughter can be broken.  It is flexible and bounds back from distress, to be sure, but I am now the mother.  My first instinct now is to my own children.  To protect them, love them, teach them, and to help them grow.  I feel that the most important thing for my children is to be loved, unconditionally. Yes, they piss me off sometimes.  It's bound to happen.  We will argue, we will fight, there will be yelling, and tears at points throughout their lives.  But the one thing that they will NEVER do is question my love for them.  I will spend my life showing them, through my actions, what unconditional love is.

Priceless

"Mommy, I want to paint," says my son with a serious look on his face. 

"No, bubba, we're not painting right now.  We can paint later.  We have a lot to do today."

"But MOOOOM!  I want to paint!  Please!" says Ethan even more intensely.

"I said NO! We don't have time!" I retort.

This argument goes on for about 5 minutes, after which my son disappears while I continue getting dressed for the day.  I'm already stressed out, because I have company and a full schedule for the day, none of which includes finger painting with the kids.  Ethan has other plans, however. 

As I rush around the house making sure that everything is together to go I realize that Ethan has disappeared.  Where is that kid?  I have to get him dressed.  I call for him and he yells that he is in his room.

I walk down the hallway toward his bedroom and open the door.  A sharp yell escapes my throat before I even know what just happened.  "SHIT!! ETHAN, WHAT DID YOU DO????"

"I painted!" he says joyfully jumping off the bed with glee. 

Imagine the scene.  An otherwise clean bedroom, with off white carpet, Cars sheets, a toy dragon, a fluffy green pillow, and a Tonka bulldozer, all covered in gigantic splotches of blue Crayola finger paints.  I can't even think right now.  There is paint seemingly everywhere.  It is dripping down the side of the sheets onto the floor, and OMG, what are we going to do about the CARPET???? 

We rush to grab some SpotShot Carpet Cleaner and scoop the blobs off the floor onto a paper plate.  I hurriedly spray the carpet cleaner onto the spots as I think to myself, "This is never coming out.  I'll never get back out deposit now.  Damn you child!!"

Ethan is screaming his woe to the world in the kitchen corner timeout area.  2 1/2 minutes later I call him into the room, red-faced, choking on his spit.

He is so beautiful that I can't muster up the anger that I had previously. 

"Bubba, where are we supposed to paint?" 

"On the, on the...hick, hick...on the paper," he says sweetly.

I go through explaining why Mommy got so mad and we proceed into the dining room to grab a piece of paper for him to finish his artwork on.  As I watch him settle into his chair at the table I start to laugh.  I realize that my son is just like me.  He wanted to paint.  The world told him no, but he wanted to do it.  So he did it.  He learned a lesson from it, and I don't think he'll ever paint his room without a dropcloth again, but he knew what he wanted and went for it. 

Most of the paint came out of the carpet, by the way.  It will forever hold a slight tinge of blue, and I'm certain that I won't get back my deposit now, but eh, oh well.  I mean....

Deposit: $400
Fingerpaints:  $7
SpotShot:  $4
A lesson in life: Priceless

All that this week???

Wow.  It is crazy time in Krystie town.  What I mean by that is that there is some serious time management under way at my house.  These weeks are getting crazier and crazier, and I realize this is my own doing, but wow!  My planner looks like a small child went through it with a highlighter and a ball point pen, but no.  That was definitely me.  :)

My daughter started T-Ball last week, which is great.  She loves it, she has a blast out there, she runs off all of her energy, but my lordy, it is three practices per week plus games.  I suppose it has something to to with being in Texas and all, but when I was a kid, we practiced maybe twice a week, and that was only when we didn't have games.  I knew that it was going to wear her out, but it's only week 2 and it is wearing me out!  It would be more convenient if I didn't have to drive 15 minutes each way to get her to practice.  Why couldn't they put teams in the order of their geographical location?  Yeah, right...they actually have a T-Ball DRAFT!  And did I mention that we had tryouts?  That's right.  For 5 year olds. 

I do have to say though, some of those kids are hardcore!  And you should see some of the parents.  My daughter's coach said that two of the coaches actually got into a fight during the draft.  There was even trading going on.  I love Emily's coach though.  He seems very down to earth and doesn't have that wild-eyed "I gotta win" look in his eyes.  He wants the kids to have fun, and so far, she definitely is. 

Did I mention that I'm still in school?  Full time?  Final year?  So, yeah, that's plenty of homework.  Plus my extracurriculars for the resume.  And I have to start working on my practicum.  My hubby is in school too, plus we run our own business.  If I didn't know how to use my planner, I would be completely fucked.  Can't wait until Ethan starts to play Pee Wee Football.  I have a feeling it will only get crazier the older they get.  But damn, you gotta love 'em.

On the up side, my crock pot is going to be getting a lot of use these next few months.  That and the barbeque.  :)  We'll be doing a lot of convenience cooking at home, which means I don't have to deal with it during the evening.  I guess that's one thing off the planner....twenty two more to go. 

It's all about me!

Does anyone know what narcissitic personality disorder (NPD) is?  Let me give you a definition. 

"Narcissistic personality disorder is a mental disorder in which people have an inflated sense of their own importance and a deep need for admiration. Those with narcissistic personality disorder believe that they're superior to others and have little regard for other people's feelings. But behind this mask of ultra-confidence lies a fragile self-esteem, vulnerable to the slightest criticism.

 

Narcissistic personality disorder is characterized by dramatic, emotional behavior, in the same category as antisocial and borderline personality disorders.

  

Narcissistic personality disorder symptoms may include:

• Believing that you're better than others
• Fantasizing about power, success and attractiveness
• Exaggerating your achievements or talents
• Expecting constant praise and admiration
• Believing that you're special and acting accordingly
• Failing to recognize other people's emotions and feelings
• Expecting others to go along with your ideas and plans
• Taking advantage of others
• Expressing disdain for those you feel are inferior
• Being jealous of others
• Believing that others are jealous of you
• Trouble keeping healthy relationships
• Setting unrealistic goals
• Being easily hurt and rejected
• Having a fragile self-esteem
• Appearing as tough-minded or unemotional

 

Although some features of narcissistic personality disorder may seem like having confidence or strong self-esteem, it's not the same. Narcissistic personality disorder crosses the border of healthy confidence and self-esteem into thinking so highly of yourself that you put yourself on a pedestal. In contrast, people who have healthy confidence and self-esteem don't value themselves more than they value others.

 

When you have narcissistic personality disorder, you may come across as conceited, boastful or pretentious. You often monopolize conversations. You may belittle or look down on people you perceive as inferior. You may have a sense of entitlement. And when you don't receive the special treatment to which you feel entitled, you may become very impatient or angry. You may insist on having "the best" of everything — the best car, athletic club, medical care or social circles, for instance.

 

But underneath all this behavior often lies a fragile self-esteem. You have trouble handling anything that may be perceived as criticism. You may have a sense of secret shame and humiliation. And in order to make yourself feel better, you may react with rage or contempt and efforts to belittle the other person to make yourself appear better.

 

When to see a doctor

 

When you have narcissistic personality disorder, you may not want to think that anything could be wrong — doing so wouldn't fit with your self-image of power and perfection. But by definition, narcissistic personality disorder causes problems in many areas of your life, such as relationships, work, school or your financial affairs. You may be generally unhappy and confused by a mix of seemingly contradictory emotions. Others may not enjoy being around you, and you may find your relationships unfulfilling (Mayo Clinic, 2011)."

 

 

I said all of that to say this.  I understand a child believing that the world revolves around them.  That is a child's way of thinking because their brain is still developing.  But for an adult to continue to live in a world that they believe is all about them and their needs is simply debilatating.  I am sure that all of my readers know at least one person in their life who exhibits symptoms of NPD.  It is one of the most frustrating disorders that friends/family can deal with.  The reason for this is that the only real treatment for narcissim is therapy.  That would go against all aspects of someone with NPD, and so they very rarely seek therapy or even admit that something could possibly be wrong with them. 

 

I'm bringing this to your attention, because I believe that if we start telling these people with NPD that something is wrong with them, and there is treatment, perhaps the stigma will no longer be as large and they will go and get treatment. 

 

Until then though, I will no longer invite people with NPD to be a part of mine or my family's life.  Please seek treatment prior to any contact with me.  I hope that this information that I have provided you will be of assistance to your future relationships with both friends and family.  Again, please seek treatment. 

 

Don't worry guys, I'll post a fun read later. 
 

 

 

 

 

It's scawy!

Those of you readers with kids have been there, right?  You do the bedtime routine, sing them a song, say the prayers, tuck the child in extra well, scare away the monsters, and then walk out of the room with high hopes that your child will stay where you put them.  Is this typically the case?  Not at our house lately. Nope.  Not my son!  For some reason, he thinks that the reason we tuck him in each night is because we want to play Chinese fire drill after bedtime.  His version of Chinese fire drill consists of him sneaking out of his bed and running into Grandpa's room, where he convinces his Grandpa to read him a book.  I don't really blame my Dad, I mean, he forgets.  I would too with dementia.  But the boy, now the boy is a whole different story. 

Anyway, after we take my son back to bed around a half-dozen times he usually gives up on the seemingly futile attempt at escape and falls asleep.  Not for the last couple of nights. 

Let me give you some background on my son.  First of all, he loves to climb.  The kid would climb up the tiger cage at the zoo if I let him.  He also loves to hide.  Hide-and-seek is a favorite around our house.  The combination of climbing and hiding!  That prospect, for him, is absolutely a winner. 

That being said, this is where we found Ethan the night before last.  Not that this is much of a climb...but it is a fun place to escape from Mommy, Daddy, and the monsters.

No, that is not his tiny bedroom.  That is a cupboard.  Yeah, like the Indian in the cupboard, except this time it's an oversized two year old.  When he told us he wanted to sleep in the cabinet, we were like, yeah, right.  Like he'll actually fall asleep in there.  Well, he sure proved us wrong, didn't he??

Just goes to show you the biggest difference between adults and children is our lack of imagination.  I look in the cupboard and see extra storage.  He looked in the cupboard and saw a small space that monsters couldn't fit in, but he could.  And so he used that as a solution to his problem.  My son, the little genius!  I do think that this is going to be a bit of a habit from now on, though.  He was there again last night.  :)

Enjoy your kiddos readers.  They'll only fit into cupboards for a short period of time.  Next thing I know he'll be falling asleep in the shower.  :)

Don't worry! I'll do it!

Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to have to run everyone's lives for them?  I'm not talking about the kids...that's pretty much my job as a mother.  But I get so effing frustrated when I have to run my husband and my dad's lives too!  Especially my husband.  At least my dad has an excuse...senility is a bitch.  But why, oh why, oh my fuck gawd why do I have to personally hold my husband's hand for every tiny little thing? 

So today, I was expecting grant money from his school.  I finally convinced him that an education was going to be key to our future, but he has an issue with getting all of the forms filled out for his financial aid.  We pay out of pocket, which is fine because we are supposed to be getting our money, as of yesterday, no less.  But I check the bank account today, and is the money there?  No!  Of course not!  So I call the financial aid office to see what the hold up is.  The very nice lady on the phone says, "Yes, the paperwork is all turned in, and it is signed by you, but your husband didn't sign it.  We can't release the funds until we have his signature."  This was 3 weeks ago.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE DIDN'T SIGN IT??  I really thought I was married to a grown up, but apparently when I say, "Honey, all you have to do is sign this form and drop it off," that is too much information to process at one time. 

I am a patient woman, most of the time.  But this isn't a one time thing.  This is an every time thing.  I love my husband.  He is so sweet and loves me oh so much.  He does a lot.  Or at least he seems to do a lot.  But my patience is bound to run out at some point.  And that point is today. 

I am over it. And it's only 11:00 AM, so it's not like I can do anything about it right now.  Nope.  I have to sit here, by myself, pissed off, sober.  Because I have homework to do.  And a house to clean.  And an exam to take.  If you read my last blog you'll see that this is what I do.  Clean up shitty messes that other people leave.  Ugh.  And they wonder why I am so fucking stressed out sometimes.  It's okay honey, keep on not doing what you say you'll do.  Don't worry, I'll get that.  Oh, you didn't fix the washer?  Don't worry, I can do it.  You didn't pick up that ingredient?  Don't worry, I've got it.  You didn't put that in the laundry?  Oh, no don't even think about it. I've got it.  You didn't write that paper?  Don't worry, I'll help you.  You can't wipe your own ass?  Bend over honey, I'll get it for you.  It's okay.  I've got it.

I'm so fucking busy helping other people not worry that I've got premature wrinkles on my ass and dimples on my thighs from drowning my own anger in chocolate and coffee.  Shit. 

All in a day's time

8:00 AM.

I had to practically drag my little girl out of bed to go to her T-Ball tryouts this morning.  Do you know what she told me when I said it was time to wake up?  "I think we slept through it mom.  It's too late, go back to sleep."  Ha!  This was mumbled next to me in bed, because we ended up (again) with way too many bodies.  I really don't get the whole co-sleeping thing, because I can't handle all the feet and elbows and knees jamming into my face, back, legs, etc.

Anyway, we finally make it out the door to T-Ball tryouts, where she has a blast running around with the other kids and then has her chance to swing the bat, catch some balls (or at least attempt it), and then run as fast as she can down a baseline.  Both kids are already pretty worn out by the time we leave, because my son has been running about, terrorizing all of the kids that he can get to pay attention to him pretending to be Spiderman. 

10:30 AM
We leave T-ball and call a mom friend of mine with two kids of her own.  We decide to meet up at the mall, which has an indoor play area for small children.  I get to the mall and see about 20 munchkins crammed into the very small play area and take a deep breath.  Okay. 

"Shoes off kids!"  I say as I chase my son down to get his shoes.  He does this often, running away and giggling insanely as I impatiently ask him to come to mommy. 

"Hee hee, ha ha..."  This is his daily neener neener to me.  Little shit.  He thinks he is so funny, probably because he really is.

Moving on.  We wait for my friend Cyndi to arrive and then she does.  Pretty quickly after she gets there Emily has to pee.  Next its a fight to get her shoes back on so that we can walk to the bathroom without bare feet.  She just doesn't understand why she needs shoes.  She probably could have made it without them, but I'm taking precautions...who knows what's on the mall flooring??  Grabbing her and Zoe's hands (yup, now one of Cyndi's kids had to pee too), I start the short walk toward the bathroom. 

I hear a cry from my son, and I think it is in protest to me leaving him with Cyndi as supervision, so we continue walking to the bathroom.  No sooner had we exited than Cyndi comes walking up, arms full of bags and children, both Ethan and her son.  Ethan is crying, and what is that??? Blood!!!  Oh my god, what happened????

I grab my son and Cyndi tells me that he and her son ran directly into each other heading in opposite directions.  Her son's ridiculously hard head is just the right height to hit Ethan in the mouth, causing his incisor tooth to gash the interior of his poor little upper right lip.  It takes a lot to make my little boy cry, but trust me, he had to be in pain.  His right side looked like Angelina Jolie's baby while the left side was still normal and thin.  He was fine, just wanted his momma, so I soothed him softly as we walked out of the mall.  I looked at my phone to check what time it was...was this day over yet?

Only 11:15 A.M.!!!  Are you kidding me? 

We head to Chili's to grab a bite with the kids.  This day is already packed full of fun stories for my blog, and yet, it seems to not be over.  Poor Ethan.  He is in for a tough day.  Cyndi and I are in deep trivial conversation when Ethan says, "Mommy, I phrew up."

Good Lord.  This is insane.  Really?  And, myself, being the well-prepared mother that everyone knows I am, have absolutely no extra clothes.  Well, the food is already ordered, we're going to have to wait.  So I take him to the bathroom and clean him up. 

Lunch finishes with no more incidents, Cyndi and I say our goodbyes, and we head home.  The kids get put down for rest time, and I settle onto the computer to get some homework tended to.  Did I mention that the amount of homework I have this weekend is absolutely ludicrous?  I should be doing it right now, but I'm writing this blog...heheheee...

2:40 PM
After nap we head to another friend's birthday party.  Ethan seems fine at this point, so I attribute the lovely display earlier to him drinking his apple juice too fast.  We're driving in the car to go pick up my other friend's son Jaidon and take him to the party as well, when all of a sudden my daughter screams, "Mommy!!!!  Ethan is puking again!"

I glance in my rearview mirror, always positioned on the kids and see my son shooting yellow mucousy nastiness from his mouth.  The poor guy starts to cry and I am at a loss...what do I do?  Jaidon's mom is still at work, she can't pick him up.  I have to!  What about Ethan?  He can't go to a birthday party like this! 

My hero of a husband ended up picking up Ethan and taking him home to lay around all day, and the birthday party was a success, but here I am now, not out with my friends, who did invite me for drinks, I'll have you know. 

10:15 PM

Nope, I'm here, doing laundry and homework at the same time, stuck like Chuck.  But I did get to sing my babies to sleep tonight.  Plus I've got a nice bottle of Pino Grigio in the fridge.  It may just be a great evening after all.

Little rascal

My son is a monkey.  I swear.  The kid can climb pretty much anything he so desires.  It's amazing.  He knows that if he can't reach it, a stool might.  If the stool isn't tall enough, get a chair.  If the chair doesn't do it, get the bar stool.  At least all he is usually reaching for is bananas.  I guess if that's the extent I'm pretty lucky.  For some reason however, in all of his 2 1/2 years he has not even entertained the idea of climbing up to put his happy ass on the potty.  Until today.  And I was really starting to believe we might send him to high school in diapers.

Today we started potty training, officially.  So what if we've had a few other official starts before?  He is getting too big to be running around in a stinky diaper!  And I'm tired of wiping his ass!  Especially when he doesn't particularly enjoy it either...that makes it unpleasant all the way around. 

Last night we talked about big boy underwear.  He really really loves the idea of big boy underwear, so I think I might have found a reason for him to be happy with potty training.  We went to the mall today and he had 0 accidents while we were out.  I was fully prepared with three extra pairs of underwear and pants, but he did me proud.  :)

He even sat on the big potty at the mall, which is HUGE!  Not the potty, but the fact that he sat on it.  He really hates sitting on the potty too, which is hard for me, because I'm not exactly an expert and teaching a little man how to grap his weiner and pee standing up.  Do us a favor and consult your Higher Power for us, okay?  We really need to get this no more diapers thing down.  I really want to eliminate Pampers from our budget. 

Yup, this is my life.  People make shitty messes and I clean them up.  The upside is that after everything is cleaned up I can sit back and enjoy a tall vodka soda with lime.  :)

Welcome to our city!

Meltdown City.  That's where I was.  Smackdab in the middle of Meltdown City.  I am at a loss for how to control this city.  I couldn't tell you how we arrived here, but I know that I am supposed to be the ruler, and be able to apply logic and reason and order to an otherwise chaotic existence in Meltdown City.  I am, after all, the mother.  So why can't I find a logical reason for my little girl to clean her room without tears and foot stomping and door slamming and screaming (her, not me this time)?  I just can't seem to get a grasp on this.  Tell me why I am I trying to be logical and calm with my child.  I am being patient, understanding, providing answers, explaining consequences...I am supposed to be trained in dealing with illogical thought processes, so how in the world am I supposed so deal with my job if I can't even convince my own child of how to come to a conclusion that will satisfy her need to understand?

So there I sit, at the dinner table, trying to decide what to do next.  I have spent literally 3 or more hours calmly explaining to my child the what, why, how, and when of cleaning her room.  I gave her a choice, I gave her direction, I gave her the consequences of whatever choice she decided to make, and yet none of this was getting through to her. She is in her room, throwing things, hating me, hating the world, hating everything about it.  She even told me that her feet, legs, and arms hurt in order to provide an excuse for why she couldn't possibly clean her room.  Amazing.

I finally tell her calmly that she can clean her room or not clean her room.  If she made the decision to clean it up then she could come out, eat dinner with the family, and play a game of Candyland with all of us.  If she decided not to clean, the consequence would be that she had to remain in her room for the rest of the evening, including eating dinner alone in her room.
 
Apparently this was the key.  Isolation during dinner was the most awful thing that she could think of at that time, and so after freaking out a bit more she decided to hurry up and get those books on the shelf so that she wouldn't have to eat her dinner all alone.  It's amazing what makes our children tick.  You hope and pray that the choices that you make with them and for them are the correct ones, but it's times like these that you realize you are putting their values in the right place.  All of these family dinners at the table ARE important to them.  I am doing a good thing by making sure we spend at least some time together each night, because otherwise she wouldn't have cared to miss out!

Hooray for Meltdown City!!

Clearance

My husband and I were doing some late night shopping at, you guessed it, Wal-Mart.  We went for a few groceries and necessities, so please tell me how we ended up in the clearance aisle.  I am definitely a bargain shopper, but yesterday I can't believe I got sucked into it.  It was late, and we both had to be up early this morning, and yet, still it took me an entire 20 minutes just to get over these AMAZING discounts (haha).  Isn't it crazy how good a few placemats look when they're on sale?  Even if you don't use placemats?  Or those sheets...Star Wars is good, right?  For the right price I suppose anything can look good.

We even got our kiddos a few things from the discount toy aisle, and my son was a viking this morning when he woke up to discover his new gear.  He was pillaging some poor village when I walked into the living room. 

We also rediscovered why buying toys when it's not a birthday or Christmas can be a big no-no.  Emily walked into the living room at around the same time and demanded to know where her stuff was too.  Fortunately we had enough presence of mind in our clearance rack stupor to purchase a Tinkerbell puzzle also, so we saved ourselves at least one meltdown today. 

My words of wisdom to you....STAY AWAY FROM THE CLEARANCE RACK!!!  Unless you have something extremely specific in mind, it's probably a good practice.  If not, you might just waste that extra $20 on something as silly as paperclips (yes, I bought designer paperclips last night), for the only reason of saving a few cents.  And let's face it, Wal-Mart's clearance isn't even that great.  If you want some good deals, look at The Rack.  Well, that's if this town had one...guess until them I'm stuck shopping at TJ Maxx.

The List

Step 1. 

Do the laundry.  Wait, stop, that barrette doesn't go there.  Stop into the bathroom.  Shit!  How did all of these clothes get on the floor?  Ok.  Breathe.  Leave barrette; move on to the laundry room with added clothing to put into wash.  Now why the hell is the washing mashine squeaking?  It is extremely distracting.  Oh, well.  Put fix washing machine onto to do list for husband, never to actually be accomplished. 

Step 2. 

Wash the dishes.  Really?  Why the hell didn't anyone tell me that we're out of dish soap!!!  And they wonder why I am at Wal Mart every day.

Step 3.

Sweep and mop the floor.  Oh, wait, Emily can mop it when she gets home from school.  Scratch that.  Sweep the floor.

Step 4 3. 

Pick everything up and put it where it really goes before you sweep the floor.  Probably should have made this one step 3.

Step 4.

Sweep the floor.

Step 5.

Create list for Wal Mart.  (Add dishsoap)

Step 6.

What's for dinner?  Figure it out.

Step 7.

Toilets.  My favorite.  I especially love when all the men in my house still can't seem to aim their urine into the toilet bowl.

Step 8.

Call hairdresser.  I seriously need some attention.

Step 9.

Call Cyndi and set up photography session for the family.  I've been putting it off til I lost the weight, but it doesn't seem to be coming off, so I better just suck it up (literally).

Step 10.

Fuck it.  Call masseuse.

I'm an asshole...

I don't like some people.  That's just a fact.  I'm certain that there are people out there who don't like me.  And that's okay too.  But most of the time, you have to truly be a dick to make me not want you as a friend.  Such is the case with this douchbag that I met in class last week.  He seems to have this issue with his head being crammed waaaaaay to far up his own ass, and I'd really like to help him out with that, but I don't have a crowbar that long.  I simply don't have the patience for grownups who think that the world still revolves around them.  Didn't your mommy explain to you that you are no longer the epicenter of anyone's world?  If she didn't, allow me. 

Don't get me wrong, I like to think of myself as exceptional also.  The difference between you and I is that I realize that we are all exceptional in one way or another.  I have some great points, but I've got some serious downfalls too.  As does EVERYBODY!!  Including YOU! 

Let me give you one example of what a dick this guy is, for absolutely no reason.  We got our first assignment, which was extremely short and simple.  This guy hands it to the teacher, who tells him that she can't really read it.  He laughs out loud and says, yeah, I wanted to mess with you so I wrote it with my right hand (he is a lefty).  He is one of those obnoxious people who says something out loud and he is the only person in a 10,000 person crowd who thinks it is funny, and yet he just keeps on laughing.  He is also one of those people who talks just to hear himself talk.  And he does it in the tone of "I am a dick."  You sir, should be placed on a stretcher like Mel Gibson in Braveheart.  At least then the whole crowd will be paying attention to you.

This guy has nothing that makes up for his inability to be nice.  He isn't good looking, which is what one would think.  No, not a pretty frat boy trying to make up for his own insecurities.  This guy is truly an ugly fuck.  He has zilch in the way of redeeming qualities.  At least if you're pretty and an asshole I still have something nice to look at.  But noooo...this guy is about six feet tall, mousy poorly cut brown hair, mismatched face, pot belly, you get the idea.  Didn't you get the memo that if you're ugly you should at least try to have a personality to make up for it?

I found out that this guy is married, with a kid.  That poor kid is set up for some serious ass kickings in school if he acts like his dad at any point in his life.  And the poor wife...she must truly be a walking doormat.  If this guy treats his professors with this much disrespect, how do you think he treats his wife?  She must truly be ugly, or seriously emotionally damaged.  Either way, she still deserves better than him, and I don't even know the lady.

But seriously, readers, don't be an asshole.  It's one of my professors rules, and I really like it.  We can touch on certain issues and debate them and be passionate without being disrespectful of other people intentionally.  Isn't that the point of going to school?  To learn about other opinions and points of view in order to expand our own knowledge of the world and the people in it?  PUT YOUR BIG GIRL PANTIES ON AND HAVE AN ADULT CONVERSATION!!!!!!!!!

Well, obviously

It is cold as a winter's day outside, which is weird, because it's actually winter right now.  Do you ever get tired of people stating the obvious?  It makes me want to regurgitate some piece of obvious information right back at them. 

Like today, when it was about 20 degrees outside and this chick tells me, "It's cold outside!"  I really wanted to look at her and say, really?  I didn't notice that as I was wrapping myself in 12 layers of shirts, jackets, sweaters, gloves, and scarves.  What I did notice is that you have a gigantic pimple on your cheek that needs to be dealt with...I'm sure you had no idea when you looked in the mirror this morning. Yes, I'm a smart ass.  I don't always say what I'm thinking, I'm sure you'll be pleased to know.

This whole noting the obvious thing is something that happens a lot in my house.  My dad has a terrible memory, which means that we all get to be blessed with him repeating himself over and over again.  He'll forget things like coffee in the microwave, left there to get stale and greet me when I go to heat up my lunch leftovers.  Sometimes he goes running three times in a day because he forgot he already went.  He is forever putting my dishes into random places in my kitchen, probably because he enjoys watching me have to scavenger hunt for them.  All of these things aside, there is one thing that he does that I have zero patience for, which is his tendency to bark out random OBVIOUS facts during either television or a movie.  It drives me fucking crazy.  I mean, I truly want to punch him in the face sometimes.  I love my dad, but you have no idea how irritating it can be when you're in the middle of watching a car in some fast paced action movie jump over a side rail and still be able to drive away from the cops who were chasing it, and then your dad says in an overtly obnoxious voice, "There is no way that would really happen."  Then he goes off about how the tires would have blown out, the axles would have been destroyed, and the shocks would be useless.  HE DOES THIS CRAP DURING CARTOON MOVIES!!!!

He's like my 3rd child, which sometimes is great, because I can get him to do chores, plus he's an amazing distraction for my kiddos, who are absolutely in love with their grandpa.  But some days...truly I just need to get out of the house, or quiet my mental breakdown with a nice big jack and coke.  Which sometimes works, but this sometimes backfires, because I don't like making Dad mad, but it's so easy when you've got a bit of liquid courage in you.  You see how aggressive I am in my daily speech; imagine what I could do when I've had the edge completely eliminated.

 Oh well...we piss each other off, but better pissed off than pissed on!  Have a great day!

Two roads diverged

Well, it's back to school time, and I don't mean for the kids.  They've been back for over a week now.  Nope, it's time for Mom and Dad to go back to school.  I can't say that I'm incredibly disappointed...I mean, all this rest has been great, but I really do better when I am under a crap-ton of pressure.  I fully enjoy being stressed out most of the time, and my life typically functions better when I am.  Now my pressure is getting to be a little bit different though.  I'm still in school, to be sure, but I am not sure what I am going to do with myself after this year is over.  I will graduate this December and either have to go for a Master's, law school, med school (yeah right), or put my big girl panties on and get a real job.  I just don't know which one of these things I really want to do.  I'm looking at a couple of different programs, but I'm still not 100% certain which road I want to travel down. 

The kids are no help.  They don't seem to care what Mommy does, as long as I cook them something palatable for dinner.  My husband is still in the middle of trying to figure out what he wants to do which basically renders him useless.  So I don't really know exactly what to do.  For now I suppose I'll stick with staying suma cum laude and working on dropping some of this winter warmth.  Am I supposed to technically call this stuff blubber? 

Baby balooga....oh baby balooga! 

Perhaps my distractability is one of the issues that I haven't dealt with.  I mean, I want to do everything.  I can't really narrow it down.  You should see my resume.  And although I usually excel at whatever I do, it doesn't exactly make me prime material for new companies. 

What I'm really considering is getting a Master's in teaching, which would enable me to mold young minds in my likeness, not just with my own kiddos, but also with YOURS!!  Looking forward to that, are you?  Perhaps I'll be seeing you sometime down the road at a parent teacher conference, where we can put the blame of your child's stupidity onto each other in order to make ourselves feel better about not having a fucking manual to drive one of these things.  Oh, and when we do meet, don't send your kid to school with an apple.  A martini mixer would be just fine, thanks.

When did I get old??

It's official.  I've officially crossed the line into aged territory.  I realized that last night, when I got to leave work early, planning to go out with a girlfriend, and yet never managed to make it back out of the house after I got home.  And why did I stay home?  Well, the prospect of my pajamas and some late night nookie sounded too good to pass up.  But we were going to go out!! We were going to have some young, single (hey, I can play pretend) fun!  But I swear, those pajamas looked at me and called my name and I just couldn't pass it up.  My first Saturday night off since I started this job, and I spend it at home eating and snuggling.  I woke up this morning realizing that this is the official descent into old lady land.  My kids are right.  Mom, you're old.  I'm so old that I couldn't even sleep in this morning.  Here I am, 8:00 am and I'm sitting here, still in my pj's, drinking a cup of delicious coffee writing to you rather than laying in bed after a late, swanky night out.  What the fuck is wrong with me??

These pajamas might be the issue.  They are the fuzzy, warm generic pajamas that they now sell in every single store.  Perhaps if I didn't have such comfy pj's I wouldn't be so tempted to slip them on and relax.  But maybe relaxation isn't the problem.  Maybe I'm just being confronted with my own change, and I'm not sure if I like it...or maybe I do, and that's another problem entirely.  Maybe I'll go hit up some yard sales this morning, surely another sign of aging.  Isn't it beautiful people?