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!!!!!!!!!