Mommy X

Check Out My New Blog = Domestic Working Mom - not an oxymoron!

2011-01-08T14:03:00.000-08:00

http://domesticworkingmom.blogspot.com/

It's Always Something

2010-10-12T10:04:00.000-07:00

Last week we went on vacation to Tennessee for my 37th birthday. We really had a wonderful time overall. What would a vacation be without a little drama? On my birthday, my son began doing this odd blinking thing. It kept up for hours. By afternoon, after going to the Chili Bingo party with my Aunt and Grandma's senior group at church, we took him to the ER. Of course, the doctor there was not exactly familiar with what he was doing, didn't take it seriously and told us it looks like he is blinking on purpose. I thought my husband would jump across that examination room and kick that doctors' ass! They got in touch via phone with Bam-Bam's neurologist in Detroit. He has a neurologist because he's had some seizures in the past. I described the symptoms for her and she said she wanted to see him as soon as we got back from vacation. She instructed that I should call for the first available appointment, which I did.

In the meantime, I took some video on my Blackberry that showed the eye blinking just in case it wasn't happening by the time we got to the doctor. That turned out to be a good move, since it did not stop but slow down considerably. Well, today was that appointment with the neurologist. The diagnosis - Chronic Motor Tic Disorder. We will have to watch for signs of Tourette's, which include Attention Deficit and Obsessive Compulsive behavior. It may or may not happen but we're hoping not. The only worry we really have is that he could be teased.

I know it sounds kind of scary but I am encouraged. It could be so much worse than this. Yes, Bam-Bam has had some medical issues over the years since he was born. Severe allergies, asthma, seizures and now this tic disorder. But guess what - those things are all really manageable. Of course, given the choice I would prefer to take these on myself and not have this happen to him. But I have to be hopeful. It does frustrate me that this has happened. It seems like there is always something coming up. I'm ready to be done. But I'm also ready to take this thing on. One thing is for sure, my child will never be limited by anything. Ever.

It Wasn't His Time

2010-09-27T14:08:00.000-07:00

Today I found out that a co-worker of mine, a very young guy with young kids, has died. He had cancer, of course. I am devastated. I didn’t even know him that well, but I am devastated. I’m going to deviate from my “no-work-talk” policy for a sec because this isn’t about work, really. He was just an exceptional soul that I happened to meet when I was at work.

I didn’t really know him very well until this Spring. I knew he’d had some health setbacks in recent years but what was amazing about him is that he just seemed to always have such an incredible attitude. Nothing in his demeanor ever suggested that he was willing to give up. And that is what I remember most about him.
He and I did a video shoot together this Spring in preparation for some online learning modules that I was preparing for our sales team. He had a great sense of humor and every time he screwed up he would laugh and use some of his self-deprecating humor to explain away his blunder. He enjoyed the irony of him talking about one of our “green” products while a garbage truck went by outside the window. He did not behave like a man that was dying, rather a man that was living. Enjoying. Maybe even enjoying every second. Of course, I don’t believe for a second that he didn’t believe he had hope to survive. Even though he had a crushing setback the previous January, he just kept going as if life would go on.

That was the last time I saw him. I heard only a couple of weeks later that he would be taking an indefinite leave of absence because his disease was ravaging him. And now, today, the news of his death has caused me great pause. I did not anticipate the impact that he’d had on me until I heard the news of his passing. I cried uncontrollably for a solid ten minutes. I asked God, the universe, whoever is out there – WHY? Why the hell would you take this guy? This person who had so much life left in him. So much promise. A young wife. Little kids. This guy was only a few years older than me. Why him?

When an old person dies it makes sense. It’s easy to accept as a natural transition to the other side. Maybe even an adventure. When a young person dies, it’s just wrong. I’m tired of seeing it. I cannot understand why a person like him has to go. And I don’t want to hear anyone telling me that “it was his time.” That is total bullshit. It’s not your time when you’re 43 years old.

The only thing I will say is that I learned something from him. Something really profound. I learned to capture and enjoy the moment. I learned that sometimes the little stuff just isn’t worth getting all wound up about. I learned to remember that laughter is indeed the best medicine. Work hard but smell the flowers and laugh at the garbage truck because it really is funny. And never, ever take a moment on this Earth for granted.

Never.

RIP, friend. Thank you for having an impact on my life. You probably never even knew it.

The Truth About The Ladies Room

2010-09-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

I know, I know….I am such a bad blogger. I have not blogged much at all in the last several months. What can I say, I haven’t been feelin’ it. And of course now that I am taking a break from taking a break, I have decided to touch on kind of a gross topic. Here’s the WARNING: If you don’t like potty talk…or if you don’t like to imagine that women actually go #2, PLEASE STOP READING RIGHT NOW!

Now that the disclaimer is out of the way, I would like to broach a serious topic. One that I know enters the minds of every single woman out there. Women pooping in public restrooms. There, I said it. If you are severely grossed out, I will warn you again – STOP READING!

I am slightly fascinated by this topic, which is kind of a weird thing to admit. Here’s my deal – everyone poops. Everyone. You ladies that sit there squeezing your butt cheeks together in the ladies room, sitting quietly in the stall waiting for the entire bathroom to clear out – get over it! That is what the bathroom is for. Pooping and peeing. Duh. A woman that doesn’t poop is about as common as a modern day immaculate conception. It would be a miracle.

Men may not realize that there is this ladies bathroom culture that exists. Every man I have told seems utterly shocked. Let me put it to rest for you, guys. Women do not powder their noses. Ladies bathrooms are not scented like flowers or cinnamon (unless there is some nasty air freshener in the air that smells like cinnamon-y poo.) As far as I can tell, the following are the different female public bathroom situations one will regularly (pardon the pun) encounter:

1) The Battle of Wills – In other words, who wants it more? This occurs when there are two women in the bathroom who both clearly have to poop. No tinkling is happening. There could be coughing and nose blowing and each lady is trying to outlast the other. Whoever wants it bad enough wins. One will reluctantly flush the toilet, wash her hands, and leave…all without having done the deed. The other waits for the door to the bathroom to open and then pushes with all of her might with great relief and feeling victorious. Extremely common in any ladies bathroom (can also be coupled with any of the below.)

2) The Perfume Queen – There are some women that think if they bring their perfume sprayer in the restroom with them and spray down their stall prior to their “release” that it will somehow cover up the fact that they have dropped trou’. This is one of the worst offenders. I would rather smell your dookie than your nasty vanilla scented perfume any day. Seriously, we know what you’re doing.

3) The Cougher – This is the one who thinks she can cover a plop with a cough. We’re wise to you, honey. I get concerned about these girls. I worry that they’re going to pull a muscle. This also covers the nose-blower. Either way, we know what you’re doing.

4) The Old Lady – Old ladies are great because they just don’t care. They’ve lived long enough to understand that pooping is a natural human function. And they eat a lot of bran, so they are just gonna go in there and (God bless ‘em) they’re gonna let it all go and proudly plop, flatulate and walk out with their head held high.

5) The Hand Washer – This is the lady that enters the restroom to see if anyone is in there. Once she spots the telltale feet under the stall doors, she quickly pretends that she only came in to wash her hands. Then walks out crabby and unsatisfied. She’ll give it about a half hour and try again.

6) The Camel – This is the most fascinating breed of all. These are the ladies who exercise amazing sphincter control. They literally do not poop anyplace but their own home. I came across three of these unusual creatures a couple of months ago. Oddly enough, the conversation began at lunch. I know – chicks are disgusting. I will protect these subjects by avoiding using their names. These are the ones who think that anyone who chooses to drop a deuce in a public restroom is “distgusting.” I know this because they all told me themselves. They will instead, to their own discomfort, hold all of that putrid, foul waste inside of their bodies, sometimes for 48 hours or more. I’m sorry, who is the gross one?

I could go on and on, but the above are the most common. So, why did I choose to out these characteristics? Why would I choose to share this with you? I’m honestly not sure, however, it fascinates me to no end that women have such shame for such a normal and natural bodily function that they try to pretend, to the point of sometimes sickening themselves, that they could not possibly take a shit. That, my friends, is a tragedy.

Personally, I count myself in the most rare category of all – The Chick Who Just Does What Needs to Be Done. Hey, if I have to go, I’m gonna go. Go ahead and think I’m disgusting. But at least I’m not walking around with a stomach ache or smelling like a giant vanilla bean. I say all women need to be liberated. Fight the power – take a dump. Do yourself a favor. Avoid bowel obstruction and do your doody. Maybe if we all just own up to it, we’ll all be feeling better. It’s a new day. Instead of burning you bra – walk into that bathroom, head held high, newspaper under your arm, and show that bowl who’s boss. You GO, girl!

A 2 Month Hiatus - And I'm Back....ish

2010-07-16T17:46:00.000-07:00

Well, I highly doubt that anyone even looks for me anymore but I honestly do not care. I have gained some perspective in these two months. I realized that I may have begun to get wrapped up in something in the bloggy world that is not about why I ever started to blog in the first place. I started to think about fame, readers, sponsorships, stuff....I got a little caught up.

So, I took a break and got a little perspective.

For the record, I am not knocking anyone that wants to blog so they can make money or have tons of followers. You go! If that is what you want out of your blog, have at it. I just can't keep up with all that. And no, I am not suggesting that those in the aforementioned category are people who have nothing better to do. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings by explaining mine.

For me, this is simple. It's one working mom and wife from the suburbs of the D just talking about stupid stuff. I don't want to promote any products. I don't want any gift cards. And I couldn't give a rats ass if I ever make it into the newspaper or any other media. I just want to tell my stupid stories, if for no one else....for me. And to record my thoughts.

So in the last two months, you have missed that Bam-Bam now has an obsession with Michael Jackson. He got a guitar for his birthday and screams "OWWWWWW" like MJ while he plays it. And no, he does not realize that MJ does not play guitar.

You also missed the time that he said to me, "Mom, I'm concentrating." Where does he come up with this stuff.

He turned 3 and had an "Under the Sea" themed birthday party. We played the Glee music on the iPod and he played in his pool in the backyard all day long.

He has his first crush on a teacher at pre-school...oh, and he started pre-school. He loves this teacher so much that he has an imaginary friend at home with the same name and he says she is his girlfriend. I have to give her a kiss every night before bed. I also have to tell her goodnight.

Our air conditioning went out yesterday. It is supposed to be 90 degrees and humid all weekend. We went to Burger King for dinner so we could sit in the air conditioning.

Yep, my life rules.

So read me, or don't....but don't give me your God damn gift cards. I don't want them.

For right now....I've lost interest

2010-05-08T06:37:00.000-07:00

Hey guys....been a while since my last post and for good reason. I've kind of fallen out of love with blogging. The whole blogging world. I still love all of my wonderful connections but I think I've been turned off by a few things. No biggee. I'm sure I'll be back.

Until then.....XO love ya!

I'm Not a Star.....But Some Things Are More Important, Like Memorable Vacations

2010-04-11T14:59:00.000-07:00

It's Sunday and the day before heading back to work after 10 days off.

Sigh.

Vacation is over. There are so many things that I want to say about this past week. The first isn't even about vacation. In fact, it is about this blog. Just before vacation I was interviewed over the phone by a local newspaper. Kind of a high profile newspaper out here in Detroit. The topic was this blog. It was cool to be recognized and asked to talk about something that is really important to me. Very cool. I posted on Facebook about it. It was so exciting! I told my Grandma, my mom, my aunt....then the article came out over Easter weekend. And you know what, they cut me. At first I was disappointed. My feelings were just a little bit hurt. But then, a thought hit me. What the hell do I care if some newspaper thinks I am interesting enough to be included in their "mommy blogger" article? Is that why I'm doing this? No. Absolutely not. And perhaps that is why I just wasn't exciting enough to include in the article. I like having readers but I honestly don't care all that much how much traffic I get. I do this for me. No other reason. I like the connections I've made with people all over the world. I wouldn't trade it for the world. But ultimately I do this because I need an outlet. The reporter asked me about what kind of traffic I get on my site. I told her I really don't pay much attention. She asked me if I get involved in "mommy blogger" in-fighting. I told her that I thought it was all kind of silly. Truly I'm just a working mom that has all kinds of faults, all kinds of funny experiences with my sweet little boy, all kinds of little insignificant and silly things to talk about. But they all mean something to me.

So, I don't give a crap if you put me in your stupid article. Ok, maybe a little. Still, I will keep doing this because I like it. So there.

On to bigger and better things....our vacation. We headed down south to Tennessee the day before Easter to visit family. I don't know what I was expecting but I certainly did not expect this. We had a blast. It was a picture perfect vacation. I suppose that I had concerns because my mom lives there and we'd be spending time with her and my step-dad. Honestly, she didn't bother me too much. And she kept her distance for the most part, though she did spend time with us. The best part was connecting with my Aunt A. Aunt A. lived in New Jersey for most of my life and I never really saw her, never spent time with her at all. We spent our entire vacation at her home in Tennessee. She moved there when she retired.

What an interesting woman. Where do I begin? First, she made us feel welcome. One of the first things she told me was not to worry about Bam-Bam playing with anything in her house. She said, "our children are the most important thing, if he breaks something it's not the end of the world." Wait...is this woman actually related to my "children should be seen and not heard" mother? We were right at home at her house. She put me in charge of making iced tea and plugging in her coffee pot in the morning while she went on a walk with the dogs and my husband. She has a blind Basset Hound that she walks first in the morning. Then she goes across the street to get my Grandma's dog. Since we came and brought our dog with us she would make my husband go with her for the second walk....not much of a stretch since he enjoyed those walks with her down those twisty, windy Tennessee roads.

I know it sounds pretty silly to be so enthralled with this lady. To some it wouldn't be so different. But she gave me something that I never had. She made me wear a sweater when it was cold. She gave us home cooked meals. We hadn't had a home cooked meal in two years. She made me eggs just the way I liked them. She gave my husband medicine when he came down with a cold. She kept pulling things out of her cupboards and packing them for us to eat on our way home. She gave me two beautiful new coffee mugs that she had bought for herself but decided would be perfect for me.

She mothered me. In all of my life I have never, ever been mothered like that. And my husband, who lost his mother almost 3 years ago to cancer, needed a little mothering too. It was just exactly what the doctor ordered.

So the trip was great. We actually enjoyed the visits with my mom and step-dad. We hung out with my Uncle B. and Aunt C. My dog became BFF's with my grandma's dog. It was so cute. I caught up with my Grandma and recorded some great footage of her talking about the past.

But I will mostly cherish my time with Aunt A. She helped heal a little spot in my heart.

Funny Stuff He Says

2010-03-29T17:15:00.001-07:00

This post is about some of the very funny things that my little Bam-Bam says. As of now is his nearing his 3rd birthday on the 4th of July and constantly testing out his words. Cracks me up to hear how much he knows and understands.

Before bed, "Goodnight, Mommy Shark." - Have I mentioned he's into sharks right now?

As he was spitting and making a funny face....I said to him, "What's wrong?" He informed me, "Yuck, dog hair."

Hugs, "Mommy, I love you too much!"

After his Nana came for a visit he would exclaim, "Hot flash!" (while fanning himself)

When he wants to play with our cat, "Come on, Baby Kitten. Let's go back to bed."

On the weekend when he wants a pop tart. He says, "Mommy, breakfast cookie?" Well said, kid. That's why you only get them on the weekend.

And my personal favorite:

When he has a big poop, he will look in the toilet, then look at me and say, "Whoa, too big for the fish tank, Mommy!"

Why I Support the Health Bill

2010-03-24T09:41:00.000-07:00

Most of the time I try to keep things relatively light in my blog, however, I wanted to post about something that to some might be semi-political. I've heard a lot of complaining about President Obama's health bill, and I've heard a lot of folks declaring their support. I personally support it and the reasons are almost too numerous to mention them all. Namely, I've seen what lack of health care or fear of losing health care can do to people. Personally, I've seen my family members have to go without health care while hoping and praying that they stay well and safe because an illness or accident would mean certain financial ruin. My step-sister and her husband went two years without any insurance for themselves because her employer ditched her while she was pregnant and her husband lost his job. With two kids at home, their outlook was grim if anything happened. Fortunately they were ok.

But what about people who are stuck? What about my brother's best friend who has a little boy that was born with a kidney abnormality. Because his child was born with a pre-existing condition, he is deemed uninsurable. And the family makes too much money to qualify for Medicaid benefits. What would this family do if something happened with their little boy? This is an "upper middle class" family, much like my own. The problem is that "upper middle class" doesn't mean much anymore. With mortgage costs, student loans, day care, etc, etc...there is very little left over to afford the finer things in life anymore. By the finer things I mean emergency funds for health care treatment for a child who can't help how he was born.

I asked my grandmother, a lifelong democrat, former school teacher and all around God-fearing woman and (to be balanced) my mother, a conservative Christian, to share their thoughts on what the health bill means to them. Both support the bill. But wait, you ask, how can two evangelical Christians be in support of the health bill? I will let them explain in their own words.

First, from my Grandma:

Even though I have taught our 31 year old pastor not to be overt in his political views from the pulpit, He could not resist quoting a variety of sources , including Margaret Sanger, out of context, and in a way that must have puzzled most of the congregation ; as those under 60 probably don't know who she she was anyhow . But I realized where he was heading right away....so when he couldn't resist throwing in a reference to "death panels " , I made sure I got in the middle of those lining up to shake his hand. That must have surprised him ; as I usually avoid the process.

I clasped his hand firmly ; and looking him in the eye , I proclaimed , " This is a great day ! "
He agreed that yes, indeed it was a great day . " And ,"I continued , " Now I am going home and watch the Democrats pass the health bill. And I shall rejoice !"

I could hear the gasps and the giggles as I passed through the door. I had planned it so that there would be witnesses...

The preliminaries were just getting started when I turned on the TV . I watched and listened to every speaker, every desperate effort by the Republicans to scotch the wheels as the steam roller continued to the very end. For something this big , I will not depend on MSNBC and certainly not FOX ; nor am I interested in the "talking heads" giving their interpretation. I have listened and read for myself . I have made the phone calls to the legislators, attended the local debates, and written the letters. I am happy to say that our "blue dog " Congressman DID vote YES on the final passage.

I am so happy that back in 1959, I made the decision to move to Michigan to pursue my teaching career. The decision was partially based on the fact that Michigan was a Union State. Walter Reuther was one of my heroes. The Governor at the time was G. Mennen Williams , and Michigan was in a recession cycle . Much to my chagrin, I found that the only union organized teachers were in Detroit. I was a member of the Democratric State Central Committee when we passed PA 369 giving the teachers the right to organize and form a bargaining unit . In short order I joined the negotiating team (1 female ,5 males ) ; and when the WLEA did not implement the contract we had got, I ran for president. From there I became president of all Oakland County teachers .

Along the way, we got good, even cadillac , health care benefits, which I still have today. So I am and have been covered ; and since I have it, I want all people to have the same opportunity . Now Theresa Joy 's parents don't have to worry that she may never be able to get health care because of a pre-existing condition at birth. Now , Eddy (my cousin who lost his kidneys years ago) can have choices to enhance his life...and Andrew (aka Bam-Bam) cannot be denied future insurance because of his allergies. As Nancy Pelosi said, "No longer will being female be a preexisting condition to deny coverage." Believe it or not, there are states that permit insurance companies to deny coverage for illnesses that are related to being a woman. Until recently, Tennessee was one of them.

While I was typing this, I had the opportunity to call Congressman Gordon and thank him for his vote and to cite for him the above situations in my own family.

Thank you, Grandma, for sharing this with all of us.

Now, from my Mom. Admittedly my mother and I have a difficult relationship but I have to tell you that I am extremely proud of her for standing up for what she believes in. She runs in a very conservative Christian circle and lives in the Bible belt. It can't be easy for her, in her circle, to stand up and be different. I'm sure her friends that are aware of her stance think she's nuts. But while they're still sending around ridiculous emails about Obama being a Muslim and conspiracy theories that he is un-American, she has stood up to say - ENOUGH! In her words, here is what the health bill means to her:

In Luke 10:25-37, the parable of the good Samaritan, Jesus' own red-letter words tell us how we should treat others. When asked by an expert in (Jewish) law what he must do to inherit eternal life, Jesus replied with a question, "What is written in the Law?" The expert answered that the Law states to love God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind (Deut. 6:5) and to love your neighbor as yourself (Lev. 19:18). The expert continued to challenge Jesus by saying, " And who is my neighbor?" That's when Jesus goes on to tell the story:

A man was on a journey and got attacked by thieves. They stole his money and his clothes and beat him severely and left him to die at the side of the road. A priest passed by and, not wanting to "get involved", went by on the other side. A Levite (another religious official) passed by and did the same. Then a Samaritan (who was a member of a people of that day that were not thought well of because they were of mixed race) came to where the man was. When he saw him, he took pity on him. He bandaged & medicated his wounds, hoisted him onto his donkey and took him to an inn and took care of him. The next day, he paid the innkeeper two silver coins and ask him to continue his care. He also promised to reimburse him for any extra expense that he incurred.

Then Jesus said, "Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?" The expert in the law replied, "The one who had mercy on him." Jesus told him, "Go and do likewise."

As a Christian, a follower of Jesus, I see supporting healthcare reform as one way for me to have mercy on my neighbor. For a while I was confused about this issue because I let myself listen to the "priests and Levites" of my conservative circle, but when I finally asked God to show me the truth and I sought answers in the Bible, Jesus' teaching made the truth clear.

Couldn't have said it better myself, Mom.

So, now you know something about why I support health care reform. This is my story. This change is the reason why in Fall of '08 I would put my baby to bed at 8PM and head to Obama campaign headquarters to make phone calls for an hour or two. Every night that I did that, there was someone on the phone that was touched by this issue and desperately needed, wanted and asked for change. And *GASP* the President actually kept his promise. I am proud of President Obama for following through and seeking ways to make this happen for the people who put him in office, and even for the people who didn't.

And now I'm all done with my political soap box.

I Love Him, Therefore I Will Stick My Hand in a Public Toilet

2010-03-21T06:16:00.000-07:00

Happy to report that Bam-Bam is about 95% potty trained. His last holdout was pooping in the toilet. He's actually pooped in the toilet about 6 out of 7 days this week. Success! So what if I have to bribe him with treats.

Oh, and along the same vein with potty training. Funniest thing happened to me yesterday at the mall. Hubby, Bam and I were at Parisian shopping the Good Will Sale when suddenly Bam decided he needed to go pee. I thought it was a little strange because he had just gone about 10 minutes before that. Anyway, I suspect it was because I announced that I had to go potty and he wanted to come with me. And ladies and gentlemen, how do I put this delicately, I had to go....bad....and it wasn't pee. Seems my Metamucil kicked in at just the right moment. Sorry to be gross but when you've gotta go, you've gotta go.

Anyway, Bam came in the bathroom with me and insisted that he wanted to go pee-pee right now. I stood there with him trying to be patient but with a pressing need of my own. He tried and tried and could not get any pee out. Meanwhile, my stomach was cramping while I tried to keep calm. Then as he was standing there trying and getting mad at me when I suggested he try later...it happened.

Moby Dick.

If you know anything about a 2.5 year old you know that they often have to be holding some sort of miniature toy at all times. There I stood, desperately needing to "make a deposit" and squeezing my gluteus maximus muscles as though I was watching a Tony Horton video, staring at this friggin' 3 inch whale sitting precariously at the bottom of a public toilet. If you know me, you know that this was horrifying for me. I am not exactly a fan of germs or public toilets in general. In fact, the first thing Bam-Bam says when we enter a public facility is, "don't touch!" because he has been taught not to touch ANYTHING in the public restrooms.

I stood there for what seemed like an eternity pondering my situation. I looked at my poor baby, his face wearing an expression of disbelief and I said to him, "well, we have to leave it."

HE.LOST.IT. That's when it occurred to me, with clenched cheeks and all, that I needed to be a hero. I needed to roll up my sleeves and pull out that whale and save the day. Poor Bam was already disappointed enough that he couldn't pee. To lose his whale at such a critical point would truly be devastating.

In slow motion, I rolled up my sleeves.

I looked at Bam-Bam and said the following, "Mommy is going to do something that I don't want you ever, ever to do...."

I plunged my hand into the toilet, thankful that it at least appeared to be clean and ignoring the fact that I STILL had to go to the bathroom myself (or trying to ignore it anyway).

Success.

And thankless. Bam stood there crying his head off because he couldn't pee. And I could not...physically could not....stand there and let him try any longer. I stood at the sink cleaning that whale as long as I could and then ushered out Bam-Bam to his waiting father so I could go back in and take care of my own business.

Ahhhhhhhhhh....

The things we do for love.

Mommy X Rocks the House

2010-03-09T17:33:00.000-08:00

My last post was a picture of, you guessed it, me. Mommy X. Little old me. Here's the pic again:

Was I ever actually THAT cool? I posted it upon request from my friend Jim at The Busy Dad, mostly because he thought is was cool that I used to sing Skid Row and stuff like that.

Let me clarify, however, that behind this business suit with boogers on the lapel beats the heart of a rocker chick. So what if I can't stay up past 9 on a weeknight, 10 on the weekend? So what if I am more Eddie Bauer than Eddie Van Halen? I am still the same person. I am still fun, still cool as heck and obviously still trying not to swear by inciting the strange Christian ritual called Lent. I never was a drinker. In fact, contrary to what most bands lead singers do I was, in fact, 100% sober in this picture. Why waste a great memory, right? Did that mean I wasn't cool and couldn't rock? No.

What all of it means to me is that I am still the same person that I was 9 years ago on St. Patrick's Day when my band, Moneyshot, played our last gig. But I'm so much more. I am now ROCKING motherhood. In my Eddie Bauer clothes, with my sensible shoes, no spikes to be found. And I love every single moment of my time with my Bam-Bam. Even more than the rush of the cheering crowd. Much more.

Do You Know This Woman?

2010-03-07T07:45:00.000-08:00

Random Honest Scrap

2010-02-26T15:39:00.000-08:00

Many, many thanks to Lori of Tiny Little Reveries for bestowing a wonderful blog award upon me on February 18th. I have had a couple before and totally forgot to acknowledge/thank and follow the instructions (probably because I am likely a bad case of adult ADD.) This time I decided I needed to be a good girl and do what I'm told and maybe focus...yeah, good luck with that one.

This is the Honest Scrap award, which means that I have to write 10 interesting, random facts about me. Really? I'm not sure I can come up with one intersting, random fact about me but I will try. I'll try for some that you, my beautiful blog world sweeties, don't already know.

Here goes nothing:

1) I am technically an identical twin. Allegedly. When I was 17 and had my first gynecological exam, I was diagnosed with a huge cyst on my ovary. It was so big that it was pressing on other organs and causing major problems with bladder infections and intenstinal stuff. The cyst contained hair, teeth, sweat glands, bones, etc...Apparently, it's not an unusual thing. In some schools of medicine they believe it is an absorbed twin. Anyway, I thought it was gross. It was removed right before my 18th birthday. My dad thought it was cool and called it my "cyst-er." Get it?

2) I am 1/64th Blackfoot Indian, descended from Jemimah Boone, wife of Daniel.

3) I have a severe and paralyzing fear of heights. At any moment all I have to do is think about being high on top of a mountain or somewhere super high and I will feel vertigo and severe panic coming on. I went to Bryce Canyon in Utah (beautiful) but when the wall disappeared on either side of me down a hiking trail and either side jutted down (what seemed like) hundreds of feet, I froze and could not go on. I had to crawl back up the hill on my hands and knees to get back. I went to the car and read a book. Needless to say, flying is not my favorite thing.

4) I spent one summer in my teens in Eagle River, Alaska, with my Aunt and her family. It's the coolest vacation I've ever been on. I'm thankful to my Grandma (who just turned 84 on Monday) for making the trip possible. She sent me during a time of some family turmoil and I really needed it.

5) A couple years ago I ran into Jack Kevorkian (aka Dr. Death) on the streets of Royal Oak, MI. I was with another blogger, K. of Mind the Gap. She took my picture with him. And yes, he was wearing the famous blue sweater (in the summer.) And he was a lovely man who was very gracious about having his picture taken with me. What a tiny little man! Those hunger strikes really worked!

This is hard!

6) I used to sing lead in an 80's/90's rock tribute band called Moneyshot (don't blame me, the rest of the band was a bunch of guys and they all unanimously picked the name.) We specialized in hair bands. My favorite songs to belt out were 18 & Life by Skid Row or Kiss Me Deadly by Lita Ford.

7) When I do things - whether it be housework or work-work, I work in very rapid, very efficient bursts of energy. I cannot do one thing for a very long time. Which is making this list of 10 hard for me. Some might call this ADD. I call it genius.

8) I am a Golden Girls savant. I can tell you anything you could possibly want to know, or maybe not want to know, about those gorgeous ladies of Miami. It's not normal, but it's me. I watch them on my 7 season DVD collection every single night and have done so for almost three years straight. Miami is nice - so I'll say it thrice....

Seriously, I am not that interesting of a person. Let me try to squeak out two more.

9) I was such a goody two-shoes when I was in high school that the local newspaper actually published an editorial that I sent in criticizing a comic strip for the use of the word "hell"....for real? What a friggin' dork!

10) Though I am not the least bit religious, I am trying to give up swearing for Lent because I think it's probably a good idea to cut down and act more like a lady. A friend of mine informed me the other day that I should give up something I like. I informed her that I LOVE swearing. I love it very much. Is that wrong? I think it's funner than a sonnofa...pup.

Now I get to share this blog award love with 7 other bloggers. Some of you may have already gotten this, so if you don't want to acknowledge it, no prob. Here are my picks:

1. Brenda at Mummytime - because she is hilarious and I love her little Australian bootay.
2. Pampers & Pinot - Great new blog that I just discovered.
3. Natural Girl - my pal from New Zealand. I guess I'm a sucker for a cool accent.
4. Momma's Gone City - my NY, west coast transplant fav
5. The Ida'vases - great, honest scrap!
6. If Mom Says Ok - Tara always rules!
7. Mountain Momma - exceptionally honest scrap....love this woman!

Phew! Ok, enjoy!

When He's Sick

2010-02-17T07:44:00.000-08:00

It's amazing when my kid is sick how my mind floods with memories of my own childhood. Being sick and being alone. That's what I remember. There was the time I had the chicken pox and had to stay with Connnie, the evil bitch babysitter from hell. That was no fun. Imagine having chicken pox and having no one there who wants to hold you and tell you it's all going to be ok. She would put me in the bathtub at 4 years old and leave me there until the water was cold and I shivered.

I can recall another time with a different babysitter (whose name I can't remember) and I was throwing up. This woman was so grossed out by the vomit that she was complaining when my puke ended up on the floor and she had to clean it. She made me clean some of it myself. No hugs or rubbing my back. I think I was maybe 5 or 6. Can't remember exactly.

So for me it is a priority when my kid is sick that I am with him the entire time. I don't feel comfortable having him with anyone else but me because I feel like no one can give him the love and attention that I, as his mother, can give him. Today we're home sick because he threw up in bed last night. He woke up today acting fine and probably could have gone to day care. But just in case, he needed to stay home with his mom and get hugs and kisses and lots of attention. He will always feel comforted when he's sick. Always.

A Post About My Dad

2010-02-11T17:21:00.000-08:00

This post is about my dad. He died eleven years ago this very evening at Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit from complications following cancer surgery. He was 52 years old. The older I get, the younger I realize that is. His death was a huge blow to me. Did I know it was coming. Yes. I knew. Even though nobody else semi-close to us really knew, I knew because I took him to the doctor all the time. I took him to the emergency room at least once every couple of weeks toward the end. I knew. Still, it was hard. I was 25 years old and I lost the best friend I ever had.

I still want to see him. Put my head on his shoulder. Hug him. Talk to him. Oh, how I would love to talk to him. He had a way of making me feel like we were equals and not really like father and daughter. We were friends. We talked about everything. Well, almost everything. Ok, so he would get uncomfortable when we watched TV and a tampon commercial would come on. Actually, most times he would leave the room. Aside from that kind of stuff we talked about everything.

I would be remiss if I talked about my dad as though the sum of who he was involved the six years that he fought a rare form of pancreatic cancer. There were things about him that were funny and charming and, though he could be a quiet guy, he was a kick to be around most times. I have some stories I would like to share. Some of you may have heard some of these, others maybe not. At any rate, they bear repeating. Without further ado, some random memories about my dad.

My dad was obsessed with getting a savage tan. In the summers, he spent all of his time (and I mean ALL) wearing a 1970's short-shorts bathing suit. No shirt. Flip flops. He claimed that it was nice to just wear a bathing suit because the underwear was built in. Eeeew...thanks Dad, couldn't done without that piece of information.

To match perfectly with his tan and bathing suit ensemble, dad would wear a gold rope chain necklace on which he had an Italian horn charm. Very cute, Dad. Lovely. I truly believe that it was much to his chagrin that he only had a very small patch of chest hair. I believe he would have gladly rocked an oh-so-70's hair sweater.

Ok, so in keeping with the above theme, once my dad decided it would be a great idea to experiment with ways to accelerate his tan. He had tried baby oil and it worked great so he decided to take it up a notch. Peanut oil. What a brilliant idea! Dad rubbed peanut oil all over his body and decided to do outside and cut the grass. Half way through the job, I heard dad exclaim, "oh shit, I'm burning..." He came flying through the door like a flash and headed straight for a cold shower. You see, if you know anything about peanut oil you know that it just keeps cooking. That's why people use peanut oil to cook Thanksgiving turkeys. The oil just keeps penetrating. So maybe not such a great idea after all, Dad.

Until the end, my dad would puff up his cheek so I could kiss it and make all the air blow out his mouth. So, I got to do that with my dad until I was 25.

Dad called my childhood dog, Muffin, my sister. When he felt like I hadn't seen him in a while, he would call me and say that my sister was missing me.

The first time I ever danced with a man, it was with my dad and I stood on top of his feet. I sure wish I could do that now. Of course, if I did it now I would crush his feet.

So, as I said, my dad was my total BFF. After all this time he enters my mind every single day. Sadly, he never got to meet my husband in person. I met my now hubby about 3 months before Dad died. He was invited to have dinner with us but he was studying for his law school exams. I know it is one of his biggest regrets.

A couple of weeks after my dad died my brother, my hubby and I were at my dad's house cleaning some things out. We came across my Dad's old brown bomber jacket. When hubby saw it, he turned white as a sheet and asked me if that was my Dad's jacket. I said, "well, of course it's his jacket." He then told me that he'd had a dream a few nights after my Dad's death. In it we were at an intersection. I was on one side, my dad on the other, hubby on another. He said that my Dad was wearing that very jacket in the dream. (and I assure you that my hubs is not one to exaggerate.) A jacket that my hubby had never, ever seen before because he'd never actually met my Dad. My Dad crossed the street and told him that he was handing me over to him now and that he wanted him to take care of me. And he has been taking care of my ever since. That would not be the only time Dad would visit in dreams, but it was the only time he visited my hubby in dreams. It's been a while but I sure would love for him to come and see me in one of mine again. Even if he is wearing that damn bathing suit.

More Random Crapola

2010-02-06T04:12:00.000-08:00

I am SO bad! I have not had much motivation to keep up with Twitter and Blogging and barely the energy to keep up with Facebook. And then here is the real question – is that bad? Is it bad that I am so wrapped up in my REAL life that I have lost the passion to keep up with my virtual one? Well, ok, I haven’t lost the passion exactly. Otherwise I would not be preparing this entry. But I just needed a little break. But the downside to that is that my peeps – those of you who read this blog – are missed. You are the only reason that I keep this up. I have developed a fondness for this huge group of people that I have never even met. How weird is that? What would I do if I could not read about Brenda at Mummy Time going batshitcrazy? Or reading some more Thought Vomit, courtesy of (Jen) Huckdoll? Or catching up with a few people that I actually know in real life, like K. at Mind The Gap? It’s been MONTHS since I have actually seen her and I miss her terribly. If life would just slow down a little…. But then I remember that it’s actually cool to have the blogging and the Tweeting and the Facebooking…otherwise we may lose touch and that would just plain suck.

Ok, enough of my bellyaching. Since a wee bit of time has passed - you guessed it, time to be random yet again. Here I go....

First off - my belief system. Someone asked me this week about my beliefs and was shocked when I did not profess to be a Christian. I guess because I'm not Jewish and I'm not Muslim then I MUST be a Christian. Right? Now listen, people...I think Christianity can be a beautiful and powerful religion. I've even dabbled in it myself. But I also think it can be destructive and volatile. And I kind of think that about just about every religion there is. They are all beautiful and frightening. I take what I like and toss what I don't and never take any of it too seriously. My bottom line is, I have no idea what happened over 2,000 years ago or more. And you know what, I'm not gonna act like I do. If you want to do that, be my guest. I will respect your beliefs. Now, can you please respect mine? I love the IDEA of going to church and having a community...but just without all the Jesus and sinner junk. But no thanks, I am not into self-deprication if there is no humor in it. I don't want to feel guilty all the time about being a shithead sinner. I know, I know, I'm totally hellbound. Cheers. See ya there! (Actually I think quite the contrary, but pray for me anyway. Prayer can only be a good thing. XO)

Hmmm....I'm on a roll. Hope I didn't lose any readers but if I did, at least I know where we stand and I'll wish you well. I am who I am. Ok, next topic.

My friend who writes this fantastic blog called Rants and Raves of a Lunatic posted about Howard Stern possibly being on American Idol. I have to tell you that is the one thing that would get me to watch. Now, before you go and unfollow me for this one, hear me out. I like people who are REAL. 100% real. And I don't think there are too many people who are as real as Howard Stern. I used to listen to his show every day before he moved to Sirius. For those of you who only know him by reputation, don't hate. There are some really wonderful qualities in this guy. Yeah, he has a perverted mind. But he is totally up front about it. That I admire. And when it comes down to it, most of us have a lot of crap going on in our noggins that we never share with anyone. Not even in our lovely little blogs. Much better than my former choice for president John Edwards, who has totally disgusted me beyond belief. His wife is dying of cancer and he's getting a little strange on the side. Totally unforgivable. Especially since it took him two years to man-up and admit that he is the father of that baby.

Ok, next topic. Back to mommy-hood...my favorite topic by far.

My son is the most adorable little stinker on the planet. He's getting to that age where he has such a funny little sense of humor now. He's just a little man. Oh, and his favorite music is Madonna. Have I mentioned this before? He LOVES her. To the point where we get in the car in the morning and if there is anything else on the radio but 'donna (as he calls her), he says, "Mommy, fick the mugag" (translation - fix the music.) By "fix" he means that he wants 'donna. So yesterday when I was dropping him off at day care I said to Bam-Bam, "Tell Miss Jodi what kind of music you like." He looked at her square in the face and such pride and shouted, "I yike 'donna!" I clarified that he was talking about Madonna and all of the ladies in the place just started cracking up. Too cute. In case you're wondering his favorite songs are Vogue and Justify My Love. That's my boy.

The other day I was flipping through the channels and landed on (of all things) Cribs. I've never watched an entire episode from start to finish and this was no exception. It was some rapper guy and his gorgeous wife and they were showing off their kitchen. What a super cute kitchen, I thought. It was painted lemon yellow. I excitedly informed the hubby that we MUST paint the kitchen this color. He looked at me like I was retarded (and no, I will not stop using that word...I don't mean it in a mean way so get over it.) We finally compromised and went with a color called "Bicycle Yellow." Well, he had the day off yesterday and he did the painting and oh.my.god....NOOOOOOOOO! It looks bad. Really bad. It's like someone colored my walls with a neon yellow highlighter. Oops, my bad. You see, I failed to note that the rest of our kitchen is woefully out of date so it looks like a goddamn disaster. In order to keep this color, we would need to replace the countertops, at the very least paint the cabinets another color and change out our stove and microwave for sure. Great excuse to re-do the kitchen, right? Wrong. We live in suburban Detroit. Need I say more. You never know when you're going to need some extra money. We can't be spending all that money on our kitchen. Especially when our property values have dropped by about 50% in the last two years. Yeah, the walls are getting re-painted. That's the end of that phase.

So, my lovelies....that's all I have in me for now. This weekend will be filled with a bunch of busy running around. My least favorite kind of weekend. Nonetheless I am thankful to have it. And to have all of you who love me just the way I am. (Or not if you unfollowed me.) Safe journeys, people. XO

Barrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrf!

2010-01-23T11:50:00.000-08:00

This post is something of a barf-o-rama. I think my friend Jen (aka. Huckdoll) likes to call it Thought Vomit. So let the purging begin. Trying to get it all out bile and all. Hot. Ok, maybe I should start over. Nah...let's keep going. My thoughts in no particular order:

Numero Uno: I have a cold for the third time in the last three months. Seriously, what the hell is up with this? Hey, at least this time it doesn't coincide with a major holiday. But for real, why does this keep happening? This is the worst I've had it in quite some time. Went 5 years without a cold before Bam-Bam was born. Oh well, better me than him. So far he remains perfectly healthy (save for the drippy boogers that he almost always has). So for this I am grateful.

Dos: I have decided that I am the crazy one. You know how you find yourself often exclaiming that someone is so crazy? Or why in the hell would she do that? Or why did she say that? etc, etc. I have decided that it's me. And it's you. We're all crazy. Or more accurately, we just don't have the perspective to see things from others point of view. So, really, you're crazy. No, I'm crazy. No, we're all crazy. And we all need to just take a chill pill and try to understand each other more. Could this make less sense? You philosophers out there will see this clearly. The rest of you - good luck.

Tres: To somewhat go along with the previous point, I have decided that it is total bullshit to judge other parents. I mean, unless you are that lady in Georgia who made her 12 year old kid kill his pet hamster with a hammer because he got bad grades, I ain't judging you. And no, I did not make that up. There are some very fucked up people out there and unfortunately you don't need any sort of skills or licensing to have a child - just the organs. Pity. I mean, you need a license to fish. Think about that. To get back to my point about judging, though, I find myself internally questioning other parents decisions all the time. Why do they let their kids sleep in their bed? Why doesn't that kid have a bed time? Why do they let the kid do this or that or whatever.... I'm quite sure they do it with me, too. I bet people wonder why my kid gets an M&M if he takes a whizz. Or why I don't just MAKE him eat his vegetables. And maybe we all do it because we're all aware that we have some shortcomings and it somehow makes us feel superior that we have some great epiphany about parenthood that our friend may not. In the end, if it works in my house or it works in your house....what the hell does anyone care? Unless I have to live in your house and deal with it, do whatever the hell you want. For real. I'm good. As long as your kids don't become serial killers, I think you're good.

No more Spanish: And so let's talk about grandparents for a second. I would like to know what that looks like exactly. Hubby and I have the lovely predicament that our Bam-Bam essentially has no grandparents. Oh, except the squeaky lady (my mom) who calls now occasionally from Tennessee and wants to pretend like she has a relationship with the kid when she barely sees him. Or wait, how about the old fart-deadbeat asshole that lives 20 minutes from our house and has seen our kid once in a year. Still, we have all kinds of cool Aunts and Uncles all around us. We don't need those wastes of space. I'm judging. Call me a hypocrite, but in this case they deserve the judgment. Trust me.

Five: I have decided that I am hopelessly addicted to Twitter, Facebook and all things involving the internet. Sometimes this is a good thing. Sometimes it really gets on my nerves. I guess it is better than being addicted to porn or black tar herion or something.

Alas, to go along with that last point I am afraid I must go. I am in the throes of assisting in planning a baby shower for my sister-in-law, which I want to be totally perfect for her. Wish me luck with that. I cringe at all of that flouncy chick stuff. But I am really, really trying. I hope it's a girl. That would really annoy my brother. Buwahahahaha!

If any of this made any sort of sense to you whatsoever and you care to comment, feel free. If not, I get it. I'm thinking it may not even make sense to me. Happy trails.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

2010-01-16T06:59:00.000-08:00

Dear Bam-Bam,

In the span of about two weeks, you did this:

....and you took to it immediately.

And then this happened this morning:

We'll find out at nap time how that one goes.

Not to mention that you really don't like to sit in a high chair anymore and we probably need to get you a booster seat at Target this afternoon.

SIGH

And even though I realize that you have to grow up and I am happy to watch you grow up. It also makes me just a little sad. Please forgive me. I can still feel you moving around inside of me. It seems like yesterday. And I look down at my belly, which by the way will never be the same because you stretched me out in a very unflattering way (and I WILL most certainly use that on you later), and I swear it's still moving. As it is you have always been unusually large for your age. You are off the charts and have been since the day we welcomed all 9 lbs, 8 oz and 22 1/2 inches of you. Hence the stretching. So in ways it's going faster for us than for other people with kids your age. I'm thinking raising the ceilings in our house could be in the future. If I close my eyes, I can somewhat imagine you as a man. I can somewhat imagine me having to crane my neck WAY up to see your beautiful face. But know this - you will ALWAYS be my baby. And I will always be the boss of you.

Ok, maybe not the last part.

I love you.

Quick Pimp of a Lunatic

2010-01-15T17:27:00.000-08:00

For those of you who enjoy pop culture, random crazy shit and are not easily offended, check out my friends blog called The Rants and Raves of a Lunatic. Enjoy!

Ok, I Seriously Doubt That I Have Lurkers.....but......

2010-01-14T17:23:00.000-08:00

Just in case anyone is out there hiding in the bushes...pop your little head in and say "hi." I promise not to bite. Much.

Misfit

2010-01-13T14:18:00.000-08:00

My Uncle died the other day. Today was his funeral. He was a wonderful, sweet man. He was a lovely man. And being around the family the last few days has been nice, though I wish it was for a different reason. As is often the case when I get together with family, I also get a little melancholy. You see, I just don't fit in. And I really don't know why. And I really want to because I really want Bam-Bam to have a connection with a family bigger than just us. And it's not that anyone has ever been mean to me and told me that I don't fit in. It's a feeling. My brother has always felt the same way, too.

So, let me go back. My dad and his two older sisters were several years apart. In fact 10+ years between them, so they were a whole different generation. So the two oldest sisters had in common that they were around the same age and their families just naturally spent more time together because they were closer. Also, our parents were divorced when we were young so we didn't spend as much time with Dad's side as the other cousins because we were always going back and forth between parents, step-parents...a whole bunch of different places. So my brother, though the same age as 3 of his cousins, was kind of always the odd man out. His personality was also a little hard to swallow which also didn't help. And I, because I was one of the younger cousins, would hang out with my cousin Becky, who was my Dad's younger sister's kid. I know this is complicated so it's ok if you're not exactly with me. My Dad's younger sister moved to California and there went my playmate. It was terrible for me. At family gatherings after that, I would mostly hang out with my Dad. He was my best buddy anyway. I always enjoyed being with him. I adored him. He was the love of my life before my husband. Because he was divorced and my brother eventually moved away, we became a two-some at family gatherings. We were like peas and carrots, as Forrest Gump says. Sure, I would talk to people, but it was always a tad awkward.

The funny thing is that the "real" me is anything but shy. I mean, if you knew me now, you would think it was silly that I would feel awkward. In regular company I am a social butterfly. My job is to train people, for God's sake. I get up in a room in front of 10's or 100's of people. I'm confident, poised, even perhaps eloquent (at times), not to mention that I can be a stitch. But with my family it's different.

My dad died almost 11 years ago and when he died, a piece of me died with him. How can I be the peas without the carrots? So now it can be painful for me to be around everyone. I always feel like something huge is missing. And because Dad and I were a pair, I never mingled well with everyone. So now that I have a husband and a child, we are all on the sidelines. Or at least it feels that way. The rest of the family all seem so close to each other and I don't know how to break into that. I also don't want to force them to have a relationship with me if they don't want it. And I think I am always just a little cautious about putting myself out there too much with any of them lest I be let down and feel rejected. My brother doesn't come around anymore because he's still pissed about some stuff that went down with my grandma's will years ago when she died. While I supported him for a while, and still support his opinion and respect that he wants to keep his distance, I just couldn't stay away from this family that I love over something like money. It's not worth it. So, you see, I am still the odd man out.

I guess I got to thinking because of my Uncle's funeral today. He was such a great guy. Despite my own personal shortcomings or need to keep everyone at arms length, he never treated me any differently than anyone else. Did we have long conversations? No. In fact, it embarrasses me to say that I didn't even know what he did for a living until yesterday. But he always welcomed me. He always had a scratchy, bearded kiss for me. He was always sweet and welcoming and charming. And he was a beautiful person that, after hearing lots of stuff today at his funeral that I wasn't aware of, I sure wish I'd known him a whole lot better. I am ashamed that I didn't. We would have had a lot to talk about. We could have had some really great talks. But now we never can.

I want to know the other family better. I just don't know if it's too late. I feel like Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas morning. I want another chance. And I don't want Bam-Bam to be on the sidelines. I want him to enjoy his family. And to know them. But how?

The Best of Mommy X

2010-01-09T05:55:00.000-08:00

Since I've taken on the esteemed position of being a featured blogger for Detroit Mommies, I have had many more visitors and many more followers. So, in order to best introduce myself, I'd like to list a few of my past entries that capture the Mommy X essence. Hope you all enjoy!

Here's a fav, where I describe my role as a working mom and why I don't get why working moms and SAHM's have some weird rivalry. It really captures the true spirit of who I am.

Here's one where I talked about the abusive babysitter that used to take care of me. She got hers, though. Interesting story that I think you'll enjoy.

This one is just a very cool story about how my grandparents met.

Here's the one I wrote while waxing philosophical about the new year.

That's all for now....

Things I Love About Being His Mom...Even Though He Drives Me Nuts

2010-01-04T17:09:00.000-08:00

I am happy to report that my temporary insanity in my last post about Bam-Bam's crazy terrible two-ness is now over. No, the "Terrible Two's" are not over...my guilt-ridden anxiety roller coaster has stopped...for now. I feel that perhaps in a moment of mental-momminess I have misrepresented my sweet little boy a tad. And I feel kind of bad for comparing him to the devil and Damian, etc (though it is the way I was feeling in the moment.) Yes - he is insane in the terrible two sense. Yes - he has his moments of going completely berserk. And when those moments occur one after another, I find myself questioning my abilities as a mother. And I kind of wonder if other mom's do the same thing, which I have a hunch they do. Or at least I hope so or else I am a complete loser. I start to think I am inept (i.e. the crumbs in the bottom of the chips bag).

BUT - I will also say that Bam-Bam for the most part is a darling little boy and a total pleasure to be with. Most of the time. Here are some things about my darling that are special and wonderful and things I love about being his mommy:

1) He is the most affectionate and sweet little sucker on the planet. Kisses, hugs and "I Wuv Oo, Mama!" ALL the time. Oh, and this just melts my heart right down to the ooey gooey center.

2) He is stubborn and I like that he is stubborn. Yeah, stubborn in the vestibule at JC Penneys can be a little frustrating. But I am glad that he is a little guy who knows what he wants. He has a strength to his personality that I like. I think later in life it will be good for him. Just now, it's a bit of a pain in the ass for us at times.

3) He is incredibly bright. He can count to ten, he knows all of his colors, he can go through a book of animals and tell me what things are that I never realized he even knew like owl or lizard or penguin or jellyfish.

4) He's doing a great job trying to be a big boy with the potty and wore underwear for the first time today. I cannot believe my baby boy wore underwear! It was Ming-Ming underwear...as in Wonder Pets. He was so proud. Yeah, he wizzed in his pants a couple of times today but he also stayed dry in long stretches, too. So for that, we celebrate.

5) He is very polite. He says please, thank-you, sorry, bless you and excuse me.

6) Oh, and he also loves to point out when he and others fart (especially the dog.) It's hilarious. Yes, in this house we just love the bathroom humor. A good balance for all that politeness.

So, what is my point? I'm not trying to prove that I'm not a totally inept mother. In reality, I know that I am actually quite good at being a mom. I really do. But I'm also insecure. So, I guess what I'm saying is that I think it's ok to be insecure. It doesn't mean there is anything wrong with me or with him. It just means I'm living life and learning every day. I just want to be the best mom I can be, which sometimes gets me in a tizzy.

I may have mentioned before the story of when the hubby and I decided to have Bam-Bam but I think it bears repeating. I vividly remember our conversation. We went to Red Robin for dinner after work one summer evening more than 3 years ago now. I had been thinking for a while that I wanted to have a baby, which was something that I never thought I would really want to do. You see, my own childhood sucked and I was afraid of being a bad mom like my own. But something told me that being a bad mom is a choice and I could choose to give it my all, or go the way that my mom did. Anyway, that night at Red Robin, after having spent almost a decade with my beloved already and well into our 30's, I looked across the table to my hubby and said, "You know, I'm getting pretty bored with our life. Let's have a baby." Then and there we agreed to start trying for Bam-Bam...and it only took two months.

I'm not bored anymore. But you know what, it is a very good "not bored"....it's a total roller coaster but I wouldn't change it for the world.

Sometimes I Think I'm the Crappiest Mom Ever

2010-01-03T16:31:00.000-08:00

Do you guys have those times where you are on top of the world and it feels like everything is falling into place? Thing with your kids are working relatively well...you have it under control....

And then...

It all goes to hell in a handbasket. In my case, I believe this is the Universe's way of telling me that I am not all that and a bag o' chips. I am probably just the crumbs in the bottom of the chips bag.

I have these times as a mom where I just feel like I am mentally retarded (no offense to anyone who actually is mentally retarded or challenged or whatever it is they are calling it these days). I truly think, though, that I am a complete dumbass when it comes to parenting at times. And I honestly do not understand how dumb people raise children without totally losing their minds. I mean, really, kids should come with a manual.

As you may recall, my son (Bam-Bam) is 2.5 years old. Which basically means that he is clinically insane and bi-polar. And I think he may actually be going through menopause. He's out of his goddamn mind. One minute he loved going pee-pee in the toilet. The next minute he is dragging his feet, pretending he doesn't hear me asking him to go potty. Then he just wants to do it with Daddy. Then he just wants to stand there and say, "No like it." All the while, of course, I have to remain calm and not pressure him - lest I totally f it all up and bring him back to square one. Which is very hard for me because I have the patience of a gnat.

Then we have the - now I think I'll have a meltdown at the store every stinkin' time we go - thing. Yeah. Yesterday we went to the mall. He did NOT want to walk inside and hold hands. No. He wanted Mommy or Daddy to hold him. Um, ok dude, you weigh 32 lbs and I have a bad back. Ain't no damn way I am carrying your little ass through the whole store. So, I tried to "prepare" him like all those useless piece of shit parenting books say. "Bam-Bam, when we get to the store you have to walk like a big boy and hold hands with Mommy." He agrees. Naturally. We get there and it is goddamn World War III. Right in the vestibule of JC Penney's. Lovely. But wait. It gets better. He eventually got over it yesterday and we went on to have a fun time at the mall. Today we went back to get shams for our new quilt (it's totally cute and a new look for our room...but I digress) and Damian (aka Bam-Bam) had yet another shit fit in the JC Penney's vestibule. This time we were in no mood for this crap. People were staring. And while those people can all suck it because they are not in my shoes, it's still embarrassing. We were "those parents" with "that kid". Happens to the best of us. Especially when the kid grows horns at a tail at approximately 18-20 months of age. We warned him that we would turn around and go home if he did not stop his behavior. He didn't stop. We left and went home. He was flabbergasted.

Anyway, this is all just grinding on me. I'm doing what I think are all the right things. It works for a while and then the little demon changes it up on me. He changes the rules. UGH! Why can't he just stay consistent. I suppose I will be asking this question for the rest of my life.

So, all you veteran parents out there - I am not too proud to ask for your help. What are some things that work for you? Or can you share a similar story so I don't feel like a complete asshole? Any insights, anecdotes, jokes, solidarity....anything. Help me not feel like a totally suck.

Looking Forward

2009-12-30T08:37:00.000-08:00

I wrote this incredibly eloquent and sweet, adorable post about the last decade. And scrapped it. It was so damn boring. So, I'll just keep that one for me. Here I am preparing for the next 10 years and I cannot believe where the time has gone. I'm a little older, a little wiser and (frankly) a little wider than I was in 1999 at this time. I'm also a lot happier. Happier than I ever thought I'd be. Ok, getting sappy again. Just saying, it's been a good 10 years. I will end the decade waving at 40....almost there. It's so hard to believe. I will say this, though, I've got great skin and pretty good genetics so I'm not fearing aging in that sense. It's kind of fun watching everyone else get wrinkles and stuff while my skin is still looking nice and taut. LOL! But I kid, I kid. Ok..maybe not that much. I figure if I've got it, I may as well enjoy. It's not like I have a butt you could bounce a quarter off of anymore. The quarter bouncing butt was so fleeting I hardly remember, though I do wish I'd worn sluttier clothes while I still had the bod for it.

So, where am I going with this? Not sure....but stay with me. By the next decade, Bam-Bam will almost be a teenager. Wow. That's a freaker. I wonder if he will have any zits? So, we'll end this decade with Bam-Bam just getting ready to start wearing his Wonder Pets underwear (it's his New Years' resolution) and we will end the next decade with zits and girls and hormones. Oh my gosh! It happens so friggin' fast, doesn't it?

And this decade went in a flash. 10 years ago, hubby and I were living in sin in my little house in Oak Park. He was unemployed and had just passed the bar exam. I'd just completed the worst year in my life EVER...dad died, got mono (which screwed me up permanently), I bought a new house and then lost my job a few months later....yeah, it was a suck year but by year end things were back on track.

I would characterize this decade as the greatest year of change for me. I learned a lot about myself and had my strength tested many times. Happy to say that I passed the test. I've been way up - getting married, having a baby, great career, nice new house - and way down - felt suicidal, lost more people to cancer. All in all, I learned that I can handle just about anything that the universe can throw at me. I say that respectfully and in no way in a "bring it on" tone, lest the universe and God decide to throw more shit storms my way.

I am looking forward to watching my son grow into a young man. I'm looking forward to being married to hubby, even if he NEVER learns how to shut the back door when it is 25 degrees outside or never gets his underwear into the hamper....I'm looking forward to a fulfilling career, but with a good life balance.

I'm simply looking forward.

How I Celebrate Christmas

2009-12-23T17:33:00.000-08:00

This fun little meme came from one of my favorite blog writers, Maria over at Mi Ennui. And thank God, because my blog was getting a little depressing!

These are some great questions about what I do during the Christmas holiday. Maria added some and since I don't know which ones she added, I will just use them. No tagging, but feel free to grab this if you like.

1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?

I'm going to go with Hot Chocolate, though quite honestly I can't say I'm huge on either. I do like egg nog flavored Silk (soy milk) and hot chocolate with marshmallows after playing in the snow is somewhat appealing.

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?

Both. This is the first year that Bam-Bam understands the concepts of Santa so we're excited to see how he reacts. But there will be presents that will be both wrapped and just placed beside the tree. We have a cool art easel that will be set up and a toy car (the kind where he uses his legs to push it, not the motorized kind...not that there's anything wrong with that.

3. Colored lights on tree/house or white?

We have 5 trees in the house of all shapes and sizes and some have colored lights, some are white. Gotta say the colored lights are winning me over this year. They just seem more whimsical. In the past it was always white. Funny how we change.

4. Do you hang mistletoe?

Do you know that it never even occurred to me? I probably won't next year either.

5. When do you put your decorations up?

The weekend of Thanksgiving. I'm one of those fortunate people who have a four-day weekend, so I use it to put up Christmas stuff. I turn on the radio to WNIC and sing Christmas carols while doing it. (Wow, me too!!!!)

6. What is your favorite holiday dish?

Breakfast on Christmas morning. Doesn't even matter what it is, though this year it will be buckwheat blueberry waffles and home fries.

7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child?

The year my dad made me a doll house. That was amazing to wake up to. Unfortunately he forgot to scale it to the size of a Barbie, so I never really used it as a doll house. LOL! But I loved it anyway and it is the one and only toy of mine that I still have.

8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?

I was a VERY precocious and almost overly mature child. The Christmas that I was four years old, I calmly turned to my mother and said, "I don't believe in Santa. It's impossible." She asked me who I thought brought the presents. I said, "You and dad, of course." She fessed up.

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?

Sometimes. But each Christmas Eve we go to my Aunt and Uncle's house so there are enough presents to go around there to keep us contented till Christmas morn.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree?

We keep it pretty simple. We have some simple but colorful bulbs and our main tree also has these icicle bulb things. We're also accumulating some cute ornaments because of Bam-Bam. We figure we'll have lots by the time he is grown.

11. Snow! Love it or Dread it?

Love it! I enjoy Christmas even more when it is white.

12. Can you ice skate?

Heck no. You wouldn't even get me on a pair of skates. No way, no how. (same here)

13. Do you remember your favorite gift?

See #7

14. What's the most important thing about the holidays for you?

Making it special for my son. My Christmases were always filled with chaos - divorced parents going to a bunch of different places...and let's not forget about the lovely drunk driving fest every Christmas Eve. Not a fun backseat to be in - parents please think of that before you drink and drive with your kids in the car. They are helpless. Anyway, for me it is important to make Christmas about him and seeing Christmas through his innocent eyes.

15. What is your favorite holiday dessert?

Do I really have to pick one?

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition?

I've created the tradition that we must spend Christmas day here at home playing and hanging out in our PJ's all day, eating and enjoying each other. We don't go anywhere. For me, that is the one thing I never got to do. I think every kid should be able to play all day long on Christmas day.

17. What tops your tree?

One has a star, one has an angel and the others are bare.

18. Which do you prefer giving or receiving?

Giving - duh! It's so much fun to see the look on people's faces when you know they really like something.

19. What is your favorite Christmas song?

My all time very favorite is "My Favorite Things" by Andy Williams....and pretty much anything else he sings.

20. Candy Canes: Yuck or Yum?

Yuck. They do nothing for me.

21. Favorite Christmas Movie?

I love all the Scrooge movies but the best is the one from the 50's with Alastair Sim.

22. Saddest Christmas Song?

The one about the little boy buying shoes for his dying momma before she meets Jesus. I hear that and...Niagara Falls!

23. What's the one thing you really hate doing at Christmas time?

Listening to people bitch about Christmas. I used to be one of them. Now they annoy me. Lighten up people! Life is too damn short.

24. Is there anything that you swear you'll do differently next year?

Can't think of anything in particular. Maybe next year I'll be a millionaire.

25. What's the one thing you think gets lost in the season of Christmas?

Kindness.
Children.
Love.
Giving.

I know it's probably bad to say, but while I am respectful of the baby Jesus part of Christmas because of what the birth of Christ represents, it's not necessarily my first thought. It is, however, an important reason for the season...not to be cheesy. Too late? Ok. Regardless of all that...in general, I think people need to remember that Christmas is a time of hope and wonder and innocence and is important to children. It's not about partying, giving the best gift, or asking for exactly what you want. No matter where a person is spiritually, we can all remember the be a little kinder, a little more selfless, more loving, more giving, more charitable. If not once a year, all year long.

A Visit From Nana

2009-12-21T17:43:00.000-08:00

Believe it or not, I invited my mom to come and spend some time with us to attend our annual family get-together. I know, crazy. Total moment of mental failure. If you don't know the back story, we are estranged for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is her repeated abandonment of me during my lifetime. In other words, I don't trust her so I keep her at arms length. Our arrangement is that she and I communicate via email. Rarely on the phone. I made this arrangement after Bam-Bam's first birthday. And I'm not going into the entire story except that I decided I would give her one last chance to actually try to act like a Grandmother (or Nana as she insists on calling herself...which annoys me.) To my surprise, she decided to come here and stay with me. I warned her before her visit that this was just a very small step for me and I needed her to chill out about thinking we were all made up. I think she got a little overly excited.

On top of all of that and the fact that we have this estrangement, she is also a really annoying person. Let me give you the comical description of it so you can understand just how fun my weekend just was.

She follows me and my husband around the house while she's here. I am not exaggerating. I will go to do something and feel a strong presence behind me. I turn around and there she is. I have to say "excuse me" to get around her. Hubby, normally a pretty patient guy, can only take about 24 hours of this and then he gets a little crusty.

Everything, and I mean everything, is about her. If you tell her you knew someone that is a midget with one leg and a parakeet, by God so does she. Oh, and her story is much more interesting.

She likes to make "suggestions" constantly. My hubby came home from a shopping trip to Costco after having spent a lot of time vacuuming in preparation for our Sunday Christmas party. When he returned she said, "It's so nice and sunny outside, I bet you could take the dog out for a walk now and then you wouldn't have to take her out when (Bam-Bam) goes to bed." Hubby said, "No, I don't think so. I'm tired." And of course she had to come back and reiterate why it's such a good idea.

She flatly refused to sit on the couch for most of the time she was here. Instead she sat in a less comfortable chair, from which she seemed ready to jump from at any moment. She would absolutely never relax.

And, of course, she had a meltdown in the car on the way to the airport Monday morning. I was honest about my feelings for her (or lack thereof). Seems she was expecting some miracle to occur with our relationship. It didn't. I was glad she came so my son could actually experience what it was like to be with a grandmother. But I didn't magically just get over things. It doesn't work that way. For some reason she thinks I should just forgive 36 years of emotionally abusive behavior. It just isn't that simple. Anyway, she accused me of being "unkind"...which is her favorite way to say "stop speaking the truth because it hurts."

When we got out of the car to get her suitcase, she hugged me and told me she loved me. I said, "God damn it, I love you too. Why do you think this is so hard?"

I still don't think she gets it, though. I think she was actually just hearing me reciprocate the "I love you" and decided that everything is ok. She's delusional like that.

And now, I need a drink.

A New Blog

2009-12-07T15:58:00.001-08:00

I've started a new and separate blog to vent about my sons picky eating. If anyone has an interest, please happen by.

XO

To Be A Strong, Black Woman

2009-12-06T10:31:00.001-08:00

I would like to come forward and admit right now that I secretly want to be a strong black woman. The realization came to me recently. Hubby and I were discussing my affinity for programs on BET (Black Entertainment Television to those who are not familiar). Here are a few things that (culturally speaking) I am not supposed to like (I guess) because I am white:

1) Queen Latifah
2) Mo'Nique
3) Phat Girls
4) Beauty Shop
5) Big Momma's House
6) Madea
7) Sweet potato pie
8) my butt

The list gets longer but you get the picture. Once I posted on Facebook that I was watching Madea Goes To Jail....the response that I got was - Why?

Ok, here's the thing, and I totally mean this without being a smart ass whatsoever...there is something about the African American culture that I love. And something about it that makes me want to be a part of it. If you knew me you would probably laugh your ass off. I am about as white as they come. I'm so white I'm almost see-through. I have blonde hair (most of the time). Most of the clothing in my closet comes from Eddie Bauer. I am sooooooooooo white! But there is an openness, a closeness, a sense of pride, a sense of "I know I'm alright".....that the black culture has that my culture just doesn't.

So I want to be a strong, black woman. And I don't care if you think I'm weird.

Fabulously Random

2009-12-05T06:16:00.000-08:00

It's Saturday and I am home with a feverish toddler while my dear hubby works the AM signing warrants and detaining bad guys.... And yes, Bam-Bam has a fever that seems to be hovering in the 103-102 neighborhood. I got called out of work yesterday at about 10:45 to come and get him. And as much as I like the winter (I know, crazy) I do not like what it does to my darling boy because this is his third winter and he always, always gets sick and feverish during this time. Took him to the doc yesterday. Doc was very stressed and not very friendly with us. She did a quick nasal swab (after my hubby insisted) and ruled out H1N1 for the second time in two weeks.

At this point I'm basically looking up at the sky to God or whoever the heck is up there and saying, "really, are you f-ing serious with this?" I know, not nice to swear when you talk to God but I'm sure she has better things to do than correct me for my language. So I figure, this is life. So, as he watches his 10th installment of Wonder Pets while he relaxes wearing his slippers and Mickey Mouse ears on the couch with his pillow and stuffed animals, I will type a totally random post. Here goes...

1) Ever since Thanksgiving last week I am dying for more sweet potato pie. I know it's wrong but I just want to take the whole thing and eat it like a cartoon character. You know, shove it in and you can see the pie shape in my neck, then a gulp....

2) This morning I am doing my very first online grocery shopping. I have dreamt of this day ever since the day I made my first online order some 10-12 years ago. Another way to be lazy...I love it!

3) I'm getting kind of sick of Wonder Pets.

4) I'm starting to wonder if my boss is going to get pissed at me for missing so much work with my sick little man as well as me being on my death bed last week. Well, my attitude is that there is nothing I can do about it and I am not going to leave my kid with some stranger while he is sick. He needs his mother. So I guess I will cross that bridge if I come to it. Bottom line - the kid is more important than the job. If she fires me, we will deal with it.

5) I kind of wonder if Bam-Bam's fever is because his two year molars are coming in. He will not stop chomping on his hands. They are constantly wet and cold.

6) I should probably get off my ass and do the dishes, start some laundry, etc. But I just can't seem to muster the strength.

7) The Wii Fit that I bought my husband for Christmas is really mine. I need to find something else to get him that will be a surprise. Any ideas?

8) Due to recent circumstances, the hubby and I have not had occasion for nooky in a VERY long time and it is beginning to annoy the piss out of me. I'm not ever sure I remember how it's done.

9) I want to move down south where people are friendlier, the weather isn't bitterly cold and causing fever symptoms all the time and the economy is good.

10) Now I AM going to get off my ass and do some stuff. I can feel it spreading as I type.

Cheerio!!!!!!!

A Fun Quiz Thingy

2009-11-29T12:44:00.000-08:00

I wasn't technically tagged for this little quiz and won't technically be tagging anyone else, but I thought it was cute and decided to use it. I've been thoroughly enjoying blogging lately. And P.S. today was much better than yesterday in case you were on the edge of your seat wondering.

Name someone with the same birthday as you:
Kare Winslet (another curvy lady like myself...hehe), Mario LeMieux (the hockey player guy), Bernie Mac (comedian), Karen Allen (actress), and Ray Kroc (founder of McDonald's)

Where was your first kiss?
Oh, this is a funny one. When I was about 6 years old, I kissed my little cousin Greg in my grandma's car. I decided we should kiss like the "movie stars" do, so I taught him to move his head from side to side like we were in the movies.

Have you ever seriously vandalized someone else's property?
Hell no. But I have done a lot of TPing and also once "forked" my high school teachers' lawn (her son helped).

Have you ever hit someone of the opposite sex?
Not really. But when I was pregnant and in a hormonal rage I threw a bottle of water at my husband. Hey, I'm not proud of it.

Have you ever sung in front of a large number of people?
Yes. Many, many times. I am a trained singer and actually surprised all of my co-workers at our big meeting in August by croaking out a couple ditties at the karaoke machine. LOL! I also used to sing in school when I was a kid.

What's the first thing you notice about your preferred sex?
Kindness in the eyes.

What really turns you off?
Lying and extreme cockiness.

What do you order at Starbucks?
Decaf soy latte.

What is your biggest mistake?
Marrying my high school sweetheart when I knew I wasn't in love with him, and subsequently breaking his heart 4 years later. I wouldn't change it because it brought both of us where we are today - with happy families and a gained wisdom. But it was a big mistake that hurt someone.

Have you ever hurt yourself on purpose?
Yes. Not badly, though.

Say something totally random about yourself:
I like people with accents. Brenda, if we met in person I would think you were brilliant just because you probably sound like it. I also secretly want to be British.

Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity?
I've been told I look like Linda Hamilton from The Terminator. I don't see it. I easily outweigh her by 30 lbs, ok 40. And I have never been, nor will ever be as buff. Ok, probably 50 lbs...damn those Hollywood chicks are skinny bitches.

Do you still watch kiddie movies or TV shows?
I watch a lot of kiddie movies living with a 2 year old. BUT, every night I watch the Golden Girls on DVD. Yes, every night. What can I say, Bea Arthur is my idol.

Did you have braces?
Nope, and I have perfectly straight teeth. I got lucky.

Are you comfortable with your height?
Yep, not short and not really tall, though I lean toward tall. I'm about 5' 7".

What is the most romantic thing someone of the preferred sex has done for you?
Hell, I dunno. I'm not much of a romantic. I guess when my hubby proposed on the beach. That was pretty cool.

When do you know it's love?
I can't tell you but it lasts forever. :)

Do you speak any other languages?
Pig Latin

Have you ever been to tanning salon?
When I was a kid I went before my trip to Hawaii. I would never do it now. I despise the sun and do not like tanning. Perhaps the family history of skin cancer is a factor.

Have you ever ridden in a limo?
Once. After I played a gig with my old band on St. Patty's day. That was about 7-8 years ago. Ahh, those were the days.

What's something that really annoys you?
People who are negative all the time.
Aggressive drivers.
The TP never seeming to make it on the roll in my house. (Hubby, you know you're guilty)

What's something you really like?
reading, cooking, chocolate, Mackinac Island, Christmas and pajamas

Can you dance?
I can cut a rug.

Have you ever been rushed by an ambulance into the emergency room?
Nope, thankfully. Though I was close last Sunday!

The Do-Over Day

2009-11-28T18:02:00.001-08:00

When I was a kid, my grandmother used to tell me there would come a day that I really wanted to do something, go somewhere, have some fun and my child would screw it up for me.

She said to me, "Honey, you will be conflicted because your child will be acting so naughty and you have to tell them you can't do this thing that you also want. And that is what's called being consistent with your child. No matter how much you want it, you must deny yourself to teach a lesson to that child."

Today was that day.

This morning the hubs and I awoke with a glow and excitement for the day. We planned to get ready early and head out to the Henry Ford Museum. We told Bam-Bam we'd be going to look at the big choo-choo's and the cars and a plane. We were all ready to go. Wearing our coats. He was all excited. Then he decided to have a total shit-fit, meltdown, the likes of which we have never seen.

I warned him.

"If you keep it up we cannot go see the choo-choo's"

And you know what, guys. He kept it up. I had to follow through.

But goddamn it! I wanted to go see the frickin' choo-choo's!!!!!

Today was my day of reckoning.

The day basically spiraled out of control from there. The first tantrum when I shut down the choo-choo trip lasted approximatley one hour. Bam-Bam then proceeded to have no less than 3 more tantrums throughout the day. It was horrid. Seriously, he is so lucky it is 2009 and no one in this house would dream of cutting a switch like the aforementioned dear, lovely grandmother would have. We're talking an old Southern woman with substantial hips and thick upper arms made for pulling plows and shit.

What made it even more fun was that hubby was in a nice funk as a result and acting annoying. It did not feel very partner-y around here. So I basically felt like I was the only adult in the house. Nice.

So a day that began with hopes of getting out and enjoying a lovely Saturday ended up being a huge bust with all of us at each others throats in this damn house all day.

By evening, hubby and I had worked out our feelings and thoughts, talked some stuff out and we were feeling better. Of course, then the day was pretty much over.

Luckily the evening ended well. Bam-Bam decided to do a nice, high-arcing pee-pee (mostly) in the potty! YAY! Then hubby had a great idea to go to the local Christmas lightfest which is 4.5 miles of beautiful lights only a mile away from our house. It was a hit. Bam-Bam absolutely loved it. He smiled and held my hand and talked and talked through the whole 4.5 miles. It was a really special time together. We came home, he took his slippers off without being asked and sat in my lap to read The Grinch for the hundredth time (already) this season.

And now he is sleeping.

Hot damn - I'm gonna watch some Golden Girls!

Crabby Pants Off...Thankful Pants On

2009-11-26T13:28:00.000-08:00

:::Deep breath:::

I'm better know. Thanks for letting me get that out yesterday. I was feeling tres melancholy. Now I am just feeling happy, full, and thankful.

Here's a random list of things on my thankful little mind:

1) I am so happy to be feeling better today. I'm still not 100% but I can eat and I have a bit more energy and not as much crud clogging up my head. I say that is a good thing. I felt well enough to cook much of our Thanksgiving feast today. I made my homemade, world-famous dressing in the crock pot this morning. C'est magnifique! And I also made cauliflower casserole, green bean casserole, dinner rolls and sliced the jellied cranberry sauce. Hubby made the mashed potatoes. No turkey. We're not big meat fans and we had no time to defrost a bird anyway. Anyhoo, it was exhausting to make but gratifying. I love cooking for my boys.

2) Have I mentioned that my dog is the best rescue dog on the entire planet. She is so sweet and loving. She lays next to me and puts her big head on my lap. She sat with me during much of my quarantine. I'm so happy that we adopted her. What a smart thing we did.

3) I'm getting out the Christmas decorations. Look out, people! This house is going to be jammed with holiday cheer. We have 5 trees, in all shapes and sizes. The tallest is 6.5 feet, the smallest is about 2.5 feet. We even have a white one. I love Christmas. I used to hate it before my son was born. I love it now. I get to remake memories. Christmas as a kid was never fun. But now it is what I make it. And I LOVE it....like Clark W. Griswold love it.

4) My Aunt called me today from Tennessee and it really touched me. She told me she plans to get a computer so it is easier to stay in touch. She cried because she said she knew what we'd been going through the last few weeks and it hurt her heart to know what we must be going through. It made my heart feel good that she decided to reach out and let me know that she cared. She told me my grandma is really slowing down and we should come to visit. We can stay with her. I know she told me that because she knows I don't want to stay with my mom. I really appreciated her telling me that without me having to ask.

5) Today I have a renewed sense of faith in humanity. Could have something to do with not feeling like I'm going to croak (i.e. no more swine flu).

I'm so tremendously thankful for all the good things in my life. I'm even thankful for the bad stuff because it makes the good stuff even better.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends!

What's With People?

2009-11-25T11:41:00.000-08:00

I have my crabby pants on. And you guys know I have been under quarantine with this flu for quite a while so it is only making it worse. Warning: Pity Party begins now.

So my question is - What the hell is wrong with people?

Really.

We have close friends and family who live in this area. We have been struggling like mad in the last two weeks. Do you think anyone actually comes out of the woodwork to do anything? To help? Maybe make some food for us? Drop off some magazines? How about a phone call to check on us? Hell no. Not even that.

Oh sure, we've had the occasional, "tell me if you need anything..." (mostly via facebook) but you know what, who's going to do that? Really and truly. Why can't people take the bull by the horns and just help a person in need without having to be asked?

The honest truth is that it just doesn't happen. People are too wrapped up in their own boring lives to think about anyone else. They don't reach out. They really don't.

A few weeks ago an acquaintance that I work with was down with H1N1. She has a husband at home who is a quadriplegic. She's definitely a person that needs help. I said to a few co-workers, "we should do something for her, send her some food..." The response was the same for everyone, "Yeah, we should." and then they just went on as if nothing was ever said. So I spoke up and said, "Wait, let's really do something for her. Let's not just talk about it but let's do it." And because I bugged the crap out of everyone to do something like that she received a care package of food from us.

And I'm not trying to say I'm so great and everyone else sucks. But it occurs to me that no one would have reached out to this person had I not decided that it needed to happen. Sure, they would have talked about it. But no one would have taken action.

Do I need food on my doorstep? Maybe. Especially considering that it is Thanksgiving tomorrow and we cannot leave the house. But do you think that ANYONE has offered to bring a plate over for my husband and son? His own sister's reaction to the fact that we couldn't come to Thanksgiving dinner and were stuck alone in our house for the 6th day in a row? "Oh, that sucks." That's it. Not, "I'm bringing you guys some food." Nothing.

So my husband is at Kroger right now buying Thanksgiving dinner. He's going to make it himself. For us. After spending the last week caring for me and my son around the clock. I guess I just feel like it's not fair. And I feel angry and hurt that no one seems to care. And I know we are good people that deserve better than this.

Am I asking all of you out there who read this to come to my rescue? Absolutely not. This is truly just a rant post, ok? I just don't understand what has happened in this world to make people so apathetic towards people who are in need....particularly when those people are family.

This is an on-going problem in my life, though. Probably the biggest flaw that I have is that I have huge expectations of other people and get myself hurt a lot because they just don't live up to them. I've tried to learn how to be better about it but it's times like these that my high expectations catch up with me.

And if you send a turkey to my house after reading this, I will kick your ass.

To Vaccinate or Not to Vaccinate

2009-11-24T13:24:00.000-08:00

Originally in this house we were way against the H1N1 vaccine. I read a lot of frightening things about what it could do to a person. And no matter what side of the debate a person is on, it's a tough decision. But here I sit as a person that is likely in the throes of H1N1 and I say that even if I had not changed my mind a few weeks ago about the vaccine and whether or not it was a good idea, having this would have changed my mind for me. The day that my husband and I were supposed to have our vaccine was the day little Bam-Bam went to the ER with seizures. And also quite possibly the day I picked up the virus. With my son it is more complicated. He has an egg allergy and cannot have any flu shots. With research I discovered that his allergist can administer the shot under supervision with a pre-test and post-test. A long process, but to me it is worth it. Unfortunately I have to wait for the allergists office to have the shot available, which is why hubby and I intended to have the vaccine ourselves.

I've done a ton of research to come to this conclusion about the vaccine. I'm a firm believer in being very informed. I wont bore all of you with the details of what I learned through my research, except that I concluded that it was less of a risk to have the vaccine than to not. I received an email from my adorable almost-84 year old grandmother yesterday in which she said the following:

I have always been in favor of the vaccines that have been tested and approved by the FDA. Perhaps that is because i remember walking as a group with my schoolmates and teacher to the funeral of one of us who had died of diptheria. Elnora and I had whooping cough ; and it is as a result of that fearsome disease that Elnora has that wide scar on her face today...she had a scratch that couldn't heal because it broke open and bled from her coughing spells. We and our brothers also survived measles and mumps , though we were spared smallpox because there was a vaccination for that. Typhoid fever was avoided by the insertion of some kind of disinfectant in the drinking water at homes and schoolhouses. It tasted awful. My double cousin Douglas survived polio, though he had to wear a built-up shoe the rest of his life because of a degree of paralysis that affected him. In his later adult life, he had a secondary attack that was common but unexpected. That probably led to an earlier death than might have been expected inasmuch as the rest of us in this generation are pretty much still kicking around. He was the only one who would have been older than I.

Just another thing that confirmed for me the importance of vaccines. Now, I definitely don't believe in blindly following the exact schedule. For example, all of Bam-Bam's vaccines are administered one at a time and we have refused some that we do not believe to be necessary. I believe being an informed parent and patient is absolutely vital.

I know that we all don't agree on this particular point, but for me and for my family this was an important decision. We didn't make it lightly and we didn't make it with emotion, but rather with information. I think it's important for any of you making this decision to remember that information, no matter which side you choose, is important.

Ok, so I'm back on my soap box. Must be feeling better. XO

There Has to Be a Lesson In All This....

2009-11-23T16:16:00.000-08:00

....I just haven't figured out what it is yet. And maybe I was just so smug about how very positive I was going to be...maybe it was the Universe (ie God) saying, "Oh yeah? Let's see how you handle this one."

Ok,maybe not.

What I do know is that this is hard.

The hardest part about being sick right now isn't even necessarily about the way that I feel physically. It's more about the way I feel mentally. I'm stuck in my bedroom with my fluids, my phone, my Kindle, the computer and my thoughts. And I'm listening to my hubby and my sweet little boy in the next room. And I can't be there with them (except for a few minutes while wearing a mask). I don't want them to get sick so this is the sacrifice that I have to make. So I can't be with them. Touch them. Hug them. Play. It's really, really hard. I haven't really been able to give my baby the kind of affection that I usually do because I don't want to infect him. It's really bothersome. I know he misses me, too.

It's amazing what the flu can do. I was in the ER last night with the most horrible headache and nausea that I have ever had. Horrible. And I get migraines. I had to get fluids and drugs and such. Today I am in an drug-induced stupor. So that helps me feel better but I am still really weak and tired. For the record, I don't know for sure that it is the swine flu. They never tested me and I never asked them to. According to the CDC web site, I am past the point of testing anyway. They have to test you within 48 hours of the symptoms. And really, what does it matter either way? What really matters is that it is totally kicking my ass right now.

But I plan to win this battle. As if there was any doubt.

And I'm still looking for the lesson. Patience, maybe? This is certainly taking a long time to clear up. I don't feel like it will be clearing any time soon. And I swear I always steer clear of praying for patience for this very reason. Well, also because I don't have much of it. But maybe it's just something that I have to learn.

And I ramble. The ramblings of a drugged and ailing person. I'll be better soon. Still trying hard to be positive.

Sick and Tired

2009-11-22T08:03:00.000-08:00

Pretty sure I have H1N1 right now. A lovely way to spend this weekend after spending last weeked with a baby having seizures. I must admit that my "positive" is beginning to waver at the moment. Fortunately, Bam-Bam and hubby have not gotten this sickness (which started for me on Thursday afternoon). So that's positive.

And I also have a big, warm dog to keep me company. That's good too. She is right next to me as I am quarantined in my bedroom listening to my boy and his daddy chit chat and sing the Wonder Pets theme song.

Also, at least this happened before Thanksgiving so hopefully I will be better in time to cram some food in my pie hole. And since I've eaten nothing but cream of wheat and bread in the last two days, it should be very delicious indeed.

Just wish I could sleep well. I haven't been able to because my body aches too much. And my head - ugh! So want it to stop hurting. I know it could be worse.

Damn, hubby just took the dog out. Alone again.

Sigh.

How Can I Be So Calm?

2009-11-17T05:37:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I spoke with the lovely nun that runs the day care where Bam-Bam goes. She knows about his various issues - severe allergies, asthma, now epilepsy (we saw the neurologist and confirmed the diagnosis). Anyway, she said to me, "I don't know how you do it. How do you stay so calm when your child has so many problems?" Sister isn't known for having much of a filter. She just kind of blurts things out. It's actually a quality that endears her to me in a weird way. Perhaps I can relate.

So, my response?

We have to keep living life. The world doesn't stop turning because my son has some childhood maladies. And that is how we see them. I know (because I have hope) that eventually he will grow out of all or most of this and will be a perfectly normal person when he grows up. Maybe just a grown up guy that can't eat nuts. How can I get all freaked out over things that, in the grand scheme, are really minor? Yes, it is scary that he could eat food that could make his throat close up and go in to anaphylactic shock. Yes, he could have a bad seizure and hit his head. But then again, he might not. We can't stop the world. He can't miss out on childhood experiences just because of what "might" happen. That could be true for anyone and life is just too short for that. So maybe I cottle him a little at times. And maybe that is because in the back of my mind I am trying to make up for something that he might be missing because he has these strange idiosyncrasies. So what?

What about the kids who have cancer? Or cystic fibrosis? Or brain tumors? They truly don't get to have "normal" the way that Bam-Bam can. I am so thankful that allergies and seizures and such are ALL we have to deal with. This we can handle.

And we will. Thanks to all of you for your love and support.

Terrified

2009-11-14T16:36:00.001-08:00

Last night Bam-Bam woke up with a shrill scream. My husband rushed into his room only to find him covered in vomit. I quickly followed and snatched him up to cuddle him, took him into the bathroom and gave both of us a bath and put us both in clean pajamas. Bam-Bam threw up once more and was finally back to sleep within a couple of hours. I figured - stomach flu - no problem. We've been through this. The morning was typical. B wasn't very hungry and wanted to watch cartoons and mostly just drink water. He was pretty much himself except for not having much appetite.

Suddenly everything changed. I was on the computer, probably doing something dumb like checking Facebook. Out of the corner of my eye, Bam-Bam literally dropped like a brick. I looked over and he was flat on his back looking stunned. He got up and carried on seemingly for an hour. He was screaming and grabbing his head. I didn't even really understand what was happening. I thought maybe he slipped on the floor and bumped his head, though my instinct told me that wasn't right. No, he had just crumbled to the floor in one fell swoop. I may not have had my eyes right on him, but I know what my peripheral vision witnessed.

Within a few minutes he seemed to calm down. Then it happened. I was holding him in my lap and he just started to twitch. 3-4 twitches was all he did but his behavior after the fact was bizarre. He wasn't himself. Bam-Bam was not there. He was lethargic and quiet and just weird. I thought, ok - don't over react. He probably has the chills because maybe he is sick. Took the temp - 99.2 - not really high enough to make someone that shivery. Still, I was in denial. I called the doctor and asked if we could bring him by because he wasn't "himself" and had a low grade fever.

I started to get ready to go to the doc while Hubby distracted B with a YouTube fish movie on my computer. Then Hubby yells to me - "Let's go, we're going to the hospital NOW!" My husband is a pretty calm guy. He is not an alarmist at all. He was freaked. I dashed out of the bedroom and asked what happened. He said that as B watched the video he suddenly fell to the side, limply and jerked. Same vacant look in his eye.

SHIT!

I grabbed my bag and didn't even take time to look for my glasses. We were out the door to the hospital. We got right in at the ER, which was a huge relief. As soon as we got to the back and started telling the nurse what happened, she was quick to dismiss his "tremors" as chills. I tried to tell her that it didn't seem like chills. My husband and I both described what we saw. She still acted like it was no big deal and that we shouldn't worry. I thought to myself, " well, maybe we are getting a little carried away here." All the while my gut told me different.

No surprise that the doc came in and said the same thing. The flu, nothing to worry about, probably chills, kids fall down all the time, we've seen tons of cases like this with the swine flu going around, blah, blah, blah....

So they give us some water and some juice and a little dissolving pill for nausea and say as long as he doesn't barf in the next 15 minutes after drinking something we are free to go. Hubby and I are both feeling somewhat relieved, though both of us have this nagging feeling that something is amiss.

The doc comes back and is chatting with us about the discharge, give the kid the Tamiflu, watch him for diarrhea, etc...then B starts up again. He has the tremors right in front of the doctor. The doctors eyes become saucers. He says to me, "is this what has been happening?" I told him, "yes, exactly....what do you think?"

This doctor is clearly freaking at this point. Clearly.

He starts rubbing his head, saying "Hmmmm..." a lot, "I'm not sure..."

Finally he tells us - I'm cancelling the discharge and ordering a CT scan. SHIT, again.

Talk about scary as hell. Ever try to hold down a 2 year old while he's being strapped into a CT scan apparatus? How about trying to do it while the child screams, "I need help!" the entire time. Heartbreaking. I was an absolute mess yet trying to pull it together to keep B from being too scared.

Here's the crazy part. The CT scan came back clear. So, we were of course happy that he didn't have a brain tumor. The ER doc told us at this point that there was nothing more he could do. The CT scan was only one test in a battery that probably should be run and, oh by the way, follow up with your regular doc who can refer a neurologist next week. Oh, and by the way, I'm pretty sure it's not seizures, but it's not the chills either so that is your best bet. See ya later, don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out...

WTF?

Seriously? Now, not that I wanted my kid in the hospital any longer than he had to be but what am I supposed to do in the meantime? So here I sit waiting. When we got home, I called my Aunt who has a kid who had epilepsy when he was little. His symptoms were so similar to B's. I know that if that is what it is it can be treated...but I'm really just terrified of my baby having to go through all of these inevitable tests.

For those of you who pray - please pray. If you don't and can send some positive thoughts - please do that. We'll take whatever you have. I will keep everyone posted on what happens. Hoping for something simple and easy to treat.

Mommy Karma

2009-10-31T06:58:00.001-07:00

So I posted before about being a working mom (and making no excuses for it and, by the way, damn proud of it)....but there are some things about being a working mom that are hard for people to understand. One of those is the fact that I, quite honestly and sincerely, want to do little else during my off time than be with my son and my husband. I know, boring. But that's just me. Mostly my friends who also have kids understand this but my single and childless friends struggle with the concept. And it's not that I blame them for not getting it and it's also not that I think they are all morons because they are single and/or childless. After all, I went a very long way in my life being childless. Bam-Bam wasn't born until I was almost 34 years old. So perhaps what I'm dealing with here is karma. Or whatever you call it.

This inspired me to share with you what I call my "Mommy Karma"....details of those things about being a Mommy that I never understood before and quite frankly that I judged without really understanding. It is for this reason that I try my best to reserve judgment of other mothers and fathers (unless they are blatantly neglectful or abusive) for fear of more wrath of Mommy Karma.

Here is a list of things I have learned from my own hard-headed past comments or thoughts that now bite me in the ass when I think of them:

"Why don't they just get a babysitter? How hard could that be?"

Now I know that it's very hard indeed. Especially if you don't have the luxury of Grandma and Grandpa (which we don't). You can't just leave your kid with someone off the street that you don't know. And now that I'm a mom, I cannot envision leaving my precious boy with some strange teenage kid that will be texting all night and not paying attention to my kid. We basically have one person that we really, truly trust with him and her time is limited. So, we prefer to take BB out with us whenever possible.

and to go along with that one....

"I don't see why having a 'no kids' policy is such a big deal."

Well, guess what, it is a big deal. My kid is my family. If you don't want him, you don't want me. I used to think people were ridiculous with this one. And it haunts me. I would always prefer to do anything when my child is invited. And quite honestly, if you're going to do something 'no kids'...well, I'm not really interested. As a working mom, that is my outlet. I rarely go out. Rarely. I don't want to. Once maybe every 3 months alone with my husband. And before you tell me that is unhealthy, remember that I have 40 hours a week at work away from him. I'm good. I don't need any more "me" time. So please don't be offended if I am not interested in doing a 'no kids' thing with you. It's not you, it's me.

"Why do you have to be so rigid about the kids bed time? Just let him stay up late once in a while. What's the big deal?"

Now I know that our little boy is very entrenched in his routine. He put himself on a schedule, practically from birth - from eating to sleeping and everything in between. Thank God for him being such an easy child. Not all kids are like this and maybe it is ok to deviate from the bed time (and we do a little from time to time) but the plain fact is that no matter how late the kid goes to bed, he wakes up at approximately the same time. Which means he is a CRAB all day due to lack of sleep. And that is a giant pain in the ass.

"How can you let your kid act like that at the store? What's wrong with you?"

Now I know that sometimes no matter how good a parent you are sometimes your kid is just going to embarrass the piss out of you. You WILL get those looks from all of those superior people - some who have kids and some who don't, and lots of old ladies who think you're one of those terrible permissive mothers that allows you child to walk all over you. Yeah, all of you people staring...I am smiling because I don't know what else to do. Get over it. Some day you'll get yours.

"Your kid would eat his vegetables if you just make him do it. I mean, who's the parent here?"

This is near and dear to my heart because I REALLY got Mommy Karma'd on this one. I have a kid that so abhors not just vegetables but most fruits. I have tried the method of just giving him what we eat and he is the most stubborn little shit alive. He will refuse beautiful, attractive foods like red pepper slices, lettuce, even peas and will only eat things that are pretty much white or very light in color. I have resorted to using the techniques of The Sneaky Chef and yeah, he mostly eats macaroni and cheese (with hidden cauliflower, naturally)....I make no apologies. It has helped a) make dinner time more pleasant and b) ensure that my child has a daily bowel movement. You simply cannot (at least not at age 2) force any food on your kid...at least not an extremely picky one. Only make it available (which we do and he still refuses almost every time). So, if you think you're better than me on this one - whatever - and in the immortal words of one of my favs, Miss Kathy Griffin...suck it!

Do you have a "Mommy Karma" moment to share?

All Dogs Go to Heaven

2009-10-21T17:40:00.000-07:00

Tonight I took our recently adopted dog for a walk as my dear husband was feeling a bit under the weather this evening. I've been thinking about how nice it is to have a dog in my life again. This dog reminds me of another I knew a long time ago....

I grew up with Muffin. The best dog in the entire world. She ruined me for all dogs. She was loyal, playful, cuddly, easy-going...she was awesome. Muffin was the kind of dog that would spend the whole night with me when I was sick. She would comfort me when I was sad. She was a part of my birthday present when I was 8 years old. She came a few months after our original puppy, Taffy, had to be put to sleep because of a heart defect. I have to tell you that was heartbreaking for a little kid. (And by the way, I did NOT name these dogs. These names were the brilliant idea of my 90 IQ former step-mother. Even at 8 years old I thought those names were terrible.)

Muffin was really smart, too. She learned all kinds of tricks. I taught her every one of them. I always had kind of a gift for that. I taught her to sit, lay down, stay, shake hands and roll over. She was not the best on a leash, but of course this was many years before Cesar hit the scene to tell us all that a dog should not walk you.

She lived to the ripe old age of 15. I was 23 years old when Muffin passed away. I remember the scenario pretty vividly. My dad was in the hospital (again) and was preparing for more blood transfusions. Dad lived with his pancreatic cancer for 6 years - unheard of with pancreatic cancer but he had a rare type. In the last couple of years he would go into the ER several times due to low hemoglobin levels. He was always losing blood and would get really weak and need several pints. This time around was pretty bad and they needed to keep him for observation. He needed about 4 units. If you know anything about blood, you know this meant that he was basically missing half of his blood. Crazy, I know. Anyway, I asked Dad if I could do anything for him. He looked at me and simply said, "Muffin." And I knew what he meant.

You see, Muffin had been getting a little senile. She was having trouble holding her bowels anymore. My dad loved that dog so much. Every evening, as sick as he was, he would clean the basement floor with bleach water after Muffin had used the basement floor as her toilet. She could not be in the house anymore so spent her time in a makeshift pen in the basement. Dad made sure she had plenty of room, food and water, a nice fluffy bed, toys, etc. She had cataracts and had trouble recognizing us sometimes so was beginning to get a little snippy with us, which was SO unlike her.

So, that day from my dad's hospital bed he asked me to take Muffin to be put to sleep.

I said to him, "Dad, I was thinking I'd get you some magazines or something. That's what I meant when I asked if you needed anything."

He explained it like this, "Pussycat, I can't do it. I don't have the physical strength anymore but I don't think I can handle taking her in to do that. I know this is a big favor but I need you to do this for me."

I couldn't say no. This was the guy who had always been there for me. The guy that, in spite of his faults had always done everything he could for me. He asked me this favor and I had to do it.

The day I took Muffin in to be put down it was overcast. Muffin went outside and ran around in the back yard, which is something I hadn't seen her do in a while. I took her for her last walk around the block and she seemed almost peppy. She had a treat (a Pupperoni) and was just really, really happy. I wondered if maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should do it another day. You don't know how hard it was to take her that day, especially seeing the old Muffin again.

I thought I'd just take her in and leave her with the vet but I soon discovered that I just couldn't do that to her. Not after everything she'd done for me. During those times of my childhood that I felt like nobody loved me or I was in the way, she was there to remind me that I meant everything to her. She comforted me through skinned knees, the flu, a broken heart. Now she needed comfort and I was going to give it to her.

I said goodbye to Muffin that day and cried a lot, maybe more than I ever had. And maybe I was crying for more than just losing her but for the knowledge that my dad would never get better. In a weird way it prepared me for losing my dad. Though I'd lost a grandparent already at that point, I'd never experienced anything like losing someone that I lived with every day. Muffin was the first. I imagine her now with Dad in heaven or whatever you want to call it. It comforts me to imagine her keeping him company.

Yes, it's nice to have a dog in my life again. That kind of love is priceless.

A Few Random Thoughts

2009-10-17T10:36:00.000-07:00

Hello there, bloggy people. Today's post will be 100% random thoughts that are bouncing around in my head. I'm in the mood for something different. So, here goes.

The dog that we adopted a week ago is a really good dog. I cannot help but wonder what would possess a person to voluntarily give up this dog. We really lucked out. By the way, she's laying on my couch now. I just turned around to look at her and she looked up at me with those big, brown eyes as if to say, " are you sure it's ok for me to be on the couch?" Yeah, sweet girl, it's ok (as long as you're on the blue blanket.)

I wonder why nobody recycles medicine and why hospitals don't stock pile expired meds for poor people who come to the ER. Wouldn't that be an easy way to make sure people get the medications that they need and also help recycle these meds that we can't flush down the toilet? I mean, what are we supposed to do? Let old drugs just pile up?

I'm preparing to cook no less than 4 meals this weekend, which should feed us 8 times. I'm just getting myself mentally ready for it. And honestly, I LOVE doing it. It makes me feel good to cook nice meals for the family so we don't end up eating crap during the week because we're all so busy.

I'm getting kind of sick of Jennifer Aniston.

I have a lot of laundry to do so I am very glad that we got our dryer fixed. And I'm even more glad that we have the DTE (our energy company) Home Protection Plan that covers all appliances in our house so we never have to pay for it. Yes, it costs us $30 a month, but I see it as appliance insurance. Besides, if our furnace dies, the plan pays for itself. Not bad when absolutely no one in this house is handy. (Sorry honey, but you know you're not.)

My husband just handed me my contraceptive jelly inserts (i.e. birth control) because I left them sitting out for the last 3 days since they came in the mail. Oops....my bad. Nice thing to just leave lying around the house.

Yesterday Bam-Bam made me a turtle (out of construction paper) at day care. He couldn't wait to show it to me when he got home. What a sweet boy!
I'm nervous because I know that I am in need of an entire mouth full of dental work and do not feel mentally prepared to deal with it. I am terrified of the dentist and almost choked to death on one of my crowns once, thanks to that stupid dental assistant with the slippery fingers. She tried to hold me down when she let go of it because she wanted to retrieve it. I was like - step off, chick, I am f'ing choking here. Anyhoo, thanks...I am even more terrified now.
I really like watching Go Diego Go. That is such a cute show! I talk to the TV for that one. My kid probably thinks I'm nuts.
It's Sweetest Day today, which I have never really considered to be much more than a Hallmark holiday. However, the hubby and I are going to have a very rare night out. I think we've done it maybe 4 times since Bam-Bam was born.
I just bought two supplements which I hope will assist me with this insane PMS problem I've been having. I did some research and found that 100 mg of Vitamin B6 daily is helpful for PMS and mood issues. I'm also going to use Melatonin for some of my sleep issues. I'll let you know how it goes. Taking the first one tonight.
I could probably use a little s-e-x some time soon. Hmmm, where is that leopard print underwear again. Oh, and mental note...maybe I should do some strategic shaving. TMI, I know. And get your mind out of the gutter. I don't mean that kind of shaving. Just grooming.
Sometimes I think I am not so much smart as I am savvy. Just very good at making people think I'm smart.
I am, at this moment, jamming some corn chips in my pie hole. They're not that good, so why the hell do I keep eating them?
Ever notice how there is always some kind of sports on TV. Annoying.
Should I be afraid of the Swine Flu? Sometimes I think I should be more concerned than I am. I definitely don't think that the vaccine is a good idea. Freaks me out. Way too new.

That's it. Hope that wasn't too boring to read. Just needed to get those things off my chest.

Yes, I am a working mom....

2009-10-15T15:45:00.000-07:00

I was inspired by something Melissa said on Rock & Drool about someone she knows who was on Dr. Phil and was a voice for the SAHM's out there (for the record, I also checked out this woman's blog). I would like to throw my voice out there as the voice of the working mom. What's the saying? Fair and balanced. Anyway, let me begin by saying that I did not see the episode of Dr. Phil and have no idea about the content but have some idea after looking at Jessica's blog. This is just a topic that has been near and dear for a while that I have meant to discuss and didn't think to do it before now.

So, yes, I am a working mom. I am a career woman. I enjoy my job. And you know what - I probably don't HAVE to work. I could cut corners and not work. But I want to. And I don't have fancy cars or a fancy house or huge bills to pay, though we would be scraping a bit if I didn't work as I make more money than my dear, underpaid government lawyer husband. I have a career. My kid goes to day care every single day. And I like that he goes there, though I do miss him and it's not always easy. And, don't get me wrong, if I became independently wealthy tomorrow, I would probably drop everything and stay home with him and go on lots of fun vacations and do lots of things. But I'm not independently wealthy....and I am not suggesting that SAHM's are even remotely in that position. The thing is, I like my job. I like going to work each day. I like knowing that Bam-Bam is socializing with other kids, learning lots of things that I would never think to teach him. I think he gets great value from day care. And NO, I am not saying that out of guilt. I actually do really believe that. And that is my right.

I also realize that there would be great advantages to having Bam-Bam stay at home with me. I get that. More time for bonding. Being there for certain milestones, etc....Here's the part I don't get....why, why, why do some mothers find it necessary to belittle other mothers for not doing what they do? What is up with these Nazi SAHM's who think that they are so superior to working moms? That somehow we aren't like REAL moms...that we just live this life of luxury (which so off base!). Conversely, why are there working mom's who think that SAHM's just sit on their asses all day watching their "stories" and are bored, sad little creatures?

Let me tell all you ladies something - get off your fuckin' high horses. All of you! On both sides. Not one of you is better than me and I'm not better than you. Not any one of us is more or less of a mother than the other. Maybe what we should really be doing is supporting each other as mothers and women. Maybe we should acknowledge that we both have a difficult job to do as mom's. That is, raising our kids the best damn way we know how.

I do not lead a life of leisure or luxury. I work hard. Really hard. So do you. I think the last thing that either of us needs is to be judged for what we do or don't do. And then I wonder to myself - why do some people find it so necessary to be judgmental? If they were really secure in what they're doing and didn't need validation that it's right, well, then they wouldn't have to put others down in the first place. Just my take. And, yes, I've had therapy before. That's why I use fancy words like validation.

So, all you bitches out there....get a grip. Stop acting like bitches and support your fellow women. None of us sees what anyone else is doing in their homes day in and day out. And we should not judge each other or say that each others kids are getting messed up for one reason or another. I'm not going to sit here and justify what I do by telling you all of the hard work that I do. That's not the point and I don't really care if you agree with my choices or not. The point is, why can't we all just learn to appreciate each other and stop judging each other. And, ok, I'll stop calling you bitches.

PMS on Steriods

2009-10-12T15:42:00.000-07:00

Ok, I admit that I may actually have inherited a little bit of my mother's tendency to be a hypochondriac. I'm also too damn smart for my own good. Sometimes I think that if I were a dumb person I could just walk around in blissful ignorance, never knowing about all of the terrible diseases and maladies in the world. Not reading up on natural medicine. Not reading all of the articles on CNN.com. But, I'm not blissfully ignorant. I am overly self aware. Is that possible? Yes!

Here's what I think I have now - it is called PMDD. Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder. And I really think I have something on this. It is sort of like PMS on Steroids. I've never, ever been a PMSer. Ever. I always wondered what that must be like. But I have to tell you that in the last year or so, I have turned into a crazy person with my PMS. Once a month for about 7-10 days before my period, I turn into a total nutjob. Surly - check. Anxious - check. Insomnia - check. Depression - sometimes. Paranoid - check....like I ate "those" brownies...yes. Hungry for all things salty, sweet, not nailed down - check.

Here's what Wikipedia says and it is TOTALLY me:

PMDD is premenstrual syndrome (PMS) that is so severe it can be debilitating due to either physical, mental or emotional symptoms. Treatment is recommended because PMDD interferes with the sufferer's ability to function in her social or occupational life. The cardinal symptom—surfacing between ovulation and menstruation, and disappearing within a few days after the onset of the bleeding—is irritability (PMID 11571794). Anxiety, anger, and depression may also occur. The main symptoms, which can be disabling, include[3]
feelings of deep sadness or despair, possible suicide ideation
feelings of tension or anxiety (YES!)
panic attacks (YES!)
diarrhea (Sometimes)
mood swings, crying, (Sometimes)
lasting irritability or anger, increased interpersonal conflicts. Typically sufferers are unaware of the impact they have on those close to them (Sometimes)
apathy or disinterest in daily activities and relationships
yeast infections
difficulty concentrating (Yes)
fatigue (Yes)
food cravings or binge eating (Yes and No...but great desire to binge eat)
insomnia or hypersomnia (TOTALLY!)
feeling "out of control", (Yes!)
increase or decrease in sex drive.
increased need for emotional closeness, (Yes! I can get needy.)
physical symptoms: bloating (yes), heart palpitations (yes), breast tenderness (yes), headaches (yeS), joint or muscle pain (yes), swollen face
Five or more of these symptoms may indicate PMDD. Symptoms occur during the 2 weeks before the menstrual cycle and disappear within a few days after the onset of the bleeding.

I SO have 5 or more symptoms. And this always happens right before my period. As soon as it starts, it's over.

Here's the fun part about it. It's something that frequently happens to pre-menopausal women. So, I guess that means I couldn't possibly have it. Right? Guess again, bitches. I'm 36 freaking years old. Easily in that window. How the hell did this happen?

So, I really need to get this thing under control. It is manageable at this point but it seems to be getting worse. I'm trying to explore some natural remedies so if anyone out there is familiar with this, your advice is wanted.

I'll try not to snap at you. You're safe....Aunt Martha is visiting now.

New Addition to the Family

2009-10-08T09:38:00.000-07:00

Let me begin by saying - no, I am not pregnant. Not even close. But we have a new family member joining us. She is a beautiful, loving, kind, sweet German Shepherd mix that is 3 years old and needs some love and a good family. I am so excited because after having met her last Sunday, I feel like she really belongs in our family. She was spayed on Tuesday and comes home tomorrow. I'm NOT a girlie girl, but I insisted that we get her a very princessy dog bed. It's purple. And I want to take her to be groomed a couple times a year and get little bows and nail polish. Is that wrong? And she has a pink, flowery collar that matches her leash. She is going to be the hottest dog on the block. She wasn't abused but she was neglected and I guess I feel like I want to give her the love she missed before. And maybe it's my way of reaching out to a kindred spirit. Just seems right. Can't wait!!!!!

All I Want

2009-10-03T03:27:00.000-07:00

Although I spend a great deal of my time trying to sort out the past and the things I have gone through, I must say that I wildly prefer the present. I realize that I truly have all that I could possibly want and need. That's a pretty damn good feeling. My son is a constant source of joy. My husband is a great man and a wonderful father. I live a relatively sedate lifestyle (by choice) and relish the small things in life. I could not ask for more. Here is a short list of those things that I love so much:

1) The way my son cups my chin and says "Oh, Mommy," and then plants a kiss on me.

2) How my husband empties the dishwasher for me because he knows how I hate to empty.

3) When Bam-Bam and I drive past a local turkey farm (and yes, we live in a major metropolitan area, NOT the country) and he shouts "TOOOOOOOOKEEEEEEYYYYSSS!!!!!"

4) How hubby is totally cool with the fact that I like flowers but I despise gardening, therefore I will never be one of those ladies puttering around in the yard all weekend making it purty.

5) Bam-Bam's love of all things aquatic.

6) Ok, so we have a few annoying neighbors, but I love our home. It's just right for us. Just the right size, nothing too fancy and modestly decorated. I would love to pick it up and plop it out in the country somewhere.

7) I have some amazing friends. I don't see most of them very much but they are so special to me. What I like is that they come from all walks of life - stay at home and working moms, single people, gay men, white collar, blue collar, democrats, republicans....I don't care who you are - I love you all for different reasons. You are our adopted family.

8) I have a job that I really love that allows me time to balance my family life with my work.

9) I've had the good fortune of living for 36 years and hope to live at least 36 more (and then some). The way I've seen people die young, I am thankful for every single birthday I am given and never get pissed about growing older - it is truly a gift.

I think that sums it up.

You're Cuter Than An Intrauterine....

2009-10-01T16:05:00.001-07:00

My birthday is just a few days away, so today I received a card and a letter from my Mom. And a small gift. And it annoys me. Is that wrong? So, you may not have the entire background on why I am annoyed. The 60 second backstory is that she took off on me and brother when we were 7 and 10, respectively. Left us with our dad (a good guy with bad taste in women) and an incredibly abusive step-mother. Went to Boston and got married to our step-dad. Called us with the news. And basically rarely ever called us for anything else except maybe birthdays and Christmas. Prior to that, she was divorced from my dad for a few years and basically passed us off to whichever of the cheapest babysitters in town would watch us while she both worked as a waitress and in her free time did whatever the hell she wanted with her friends. She picked up hitchhikers with us in the car, talked incessantly on the phone with her friends while she was around us, ignored us in every way possible including forgetting to bathe us and clothing us in dirty laundry...basically did everything but mother us. So we were not mothered from the time we were about (me) 3.5 and (my bro) 7.5. Very fucked up situation. She moved back from Boston after 3 years but was pretty hands off. We ended up both back to live with her for a couple of years as teens. She basically lorded over us constantly that the minute we turned 18 we were no longer her problem and we'd better be ready for it. That gives you an idea.

I wrote her off just over a year ago after she moved away for a second time 5 weeks after my son was born. She promised up and down that she would be calling so much it would drive me nuts. (A girl needs her mother after she has a baby...or a mother-figure of some sort.) She moved and never called, never communicated. It was very hard on me. More on that later. It didn't help the Baby Blues that I was fighting. Just in the last few months I have loosened up and told her she is free to email me and send letters if she desires. I do not want to speak to her by phone and she is clear on that so she doesn't call. Too hard to wait for calls that don't come. She's probably fine with that because calls cost money anyway.

So today she sent a letter telling me all about my birth 36 years ago. How happy she was to have "her girl" and how much I was loved and wanted and still am. Guess what? I'm not buying it. She detailed her contractions, the entire birthing process, the exact moment I was born, how she shit on the doctor with the first push. I don't frickin' care. In my eyes actions speak louder than words. Right? Am I wrong to have this reaction? I am just so done with her and she is so full of lies. So, I know I should just brush it off and move on but it does annoy me. And by the way, that $20 gift card for Bath & Body Works....if she knew me better she would know that I hate that store. But she doesn't.

Dad's Journal

2009-09-29T05:16:00.000-07:00

My dad kept a journal. I guess that must be where I get it from. His were "guy journals" and were before the days of blogging, though. Have you seen those 1 year calendars that you can buy at the drug store? They're fake leather and they're about the size of a Reader's Digest. They have one week per page and have just enough space for "the facts." Yesterday my husband and I cleaned the basement while on our 7th Anniversary "stay-cation." Yes, I know...very romantic. After 7 years married and 11 years together, cleaning the basement for our Anniversary extended weekend sounded heavenly. Trust me. Anyway, I ran across several years of my dad's journal. In his journals he detailed the things he ate, how he was feeling, his exercise regimen, movies he watched, alcohol consumption (bz), phones calls, visits with family and friends, etc. All in one tidy, little 3 inch square.

Just by happenstance I chose the 1993 calendar first and began reading through. That was the year I got married for the first time. I was 19 years old and definitely still Daddy's girl. It's fairly evident, too, because my dad's journal has a lot about me in it. We visited a lot and talked on the phone all the time. It made me smile to see that. It also made me recognize the huge hole in my life that is still there. So, there it was:

February 23, 1993 - Cold out. Up at 5:07AM. Did not fly. Helped Tom tow planes around. After lunch washed 580 till 3:00PM. Sat around till 4:30PM. Home around 5:30. Went to S's to fix toilet - she said I looked yellowish *worried. Stool very hard. Taco Bell. Bed at 11:00PM. No Bz. No Exercise. No Run.

And there it was plain as day. The day our lives turned upside down my dad had come to my apartment to fix my toilet. I vividly remember standing behind him in the bathroom. He stood up from the toilet tank and I caught our reflections side-by-side in the mirror. It was absolutely shocking to see. His skin was so yellow it was as if he had used one of those old, cheap self tanners and tried to wash it off. Remember that stuff? Compared to my skin, he looked positively odd. At the time, I didn't even really understand what jaundice was. I just knew that my dad looked weird and yellow. He brushed it off as though maybe he's had some bad food. According to his journal, the next morning at 8AM he made a doctor's appointment.

By March 2, 1993, the doctors had ruled out Hepatitis and a few other things. Here's his entry from that day:

No Work. Dr. Appt today. Up at 9:30AM. Rod's b-day (60) Not much sleep last night. S came over at lunch. Went to Dr. Appt 2:15 - does not look good. Some sort of scarring on most internal organs. TB, cancer? Not sure. Took blood & urine test. Stopped & got Wendy's hamburg (great) Was real tired. Watched TV. Bed at 11:00. Took pills. Slept good tonight. No Bz. Talked to Mom.

I do love that he took the time to describe his Wendy's burger as "Great" in the midst of all of that scary stuff. It made me sad to read through his journal yesterday. It kind of brought it all back. I remember feeling like I might have been semi-responsible because I'm the one who noticed that he was yellow. I've always been pretty observant. Sometimes I wish I didn't notice everything. And I know it's totally stupid to feel responsible for something like that just for noticing. It was a really confusing time. I was getting married at 19, which was not the right thing for me. My dad was sick and he might have cancer. It was a terrifying year. Dad did a good job of downplaying, but again my powers of observation were a little too strong. And my gift for asking lots of questions....well, it got me to the truth. There wasn't much Dad could hide after all. Can't fool me. He needed my help to get to some of his appointments, so I kind of needed to be in the know. This was just the beginning of the roller coaster ride of Dad's illness that lasted 6 years.

I still miss him every single day.

Last Day of Summer

2009-09-21T09:40:00.001-07:00

Today is the last day of summer and I'm feeling ponderous about the past again. Remembering the fall as a kid when life went back to crazy after my brother and I spent nice, semi-normal summers with our grandparents. Fall was back-to-school. I always had butterflies in my stomach on the first day of school. I would have a hard time eating or sleeping. I'm still the same way when I have something important going on at work. For example, I have to travel on Wednesday this week and all I can think about is getting it over with. Thankfully I only have to travel about 10% of the time....which is 10% too much for me. It's just not my thing.

But I digress. About this time of year, there would be parent-teacher conferences at school. I lived with my mom until I was almost 8 years old. She was never really into conferences or, I guess, never really into me. One year, she did try to be semi-interested. She had to work at the bar so she sent her boyfriend, Ed, in her place. Weird enough to send your boyfriend, but the best part was the way that he acted. Ed got me and my brother in his pickup truck and set out down the street to the school. Fortunately the school was less than half a mile away. Back in those days, seatbelts were optional, so I'm quite sure we were not strapped in. In fact, I can remember crawling around the truck cab so I am absolutely sure that we were not wearing seatbelts.

We arrived at the parent-teacher conferences with a very jovial Ed. They also had some sort of table set up and activities for kids at the school, presumably for those children who showed up with their parents. To give you a picture of what Ed looked like, imagine a guy in his early 20's (mom's "younger man") and a very carefree attitude, longish 70's hair and a scruffy moustache. Ed was very handsome and not terribly responsible. Definitely the kind of guy with some Ted Nugent 8-tracks in his pickup. I thought Ed was wonderful. He was in a great mood and greeted our teachers with enthusiasm. Some of them looked at him funny, but I thought he was lots of fun.

The rest of the evening is a little foggy or possibly just insignificant. We woke up the next morning (a Saturday) and something was off. Ed was in the hallway patching a hole in the wall. My mom was nowhere to be found....pretty typical for any day, really. I went to the living room to watch cartoons and my brother filled me in. He would have been about 9 or so at the time. I was about 6 years old.

"What's going on? What's Ed doing?"

"Oh, he punched a hole in the wall last night. Didn't you hear that?"

"No. Why would he do that?"

"Mom was mad at him for taking us to conferences drunk. They got in a fight and he got mad and punched a hole in the wall," my brother said calmly.

"Oh," I responded.

"So, I think Mom broke up with him but she's making him fix the wall."

"Well, yeah, I guess he should fix it," I was thoughtful for a moment, "What's drunk?"

"It's when someone drinks a lot of beers and they act silly."

....and that was the last time I saw Ed.

Mother of the Year

2009-09-19T08:31:00.000-07:00

Ok, so after I got all hearts and flowers this morning about how I want to be this kick ass mom....well, I had one of those mornings. The kind where you lose it. Now I feel like hell. Bam-Bam is down for a nap and I feel like the worst mom in the entire world. You see, he's two years old, so he is seriously....and I can't think of a better way to put this....a little shit. Please don't misunderstand, he is a sweet little boy who loves to give kisses and hugs. He adores his kitty. He likes to hold my hand while he sits in the wagon. What a lovely little boy. And what a little shit. He is in super defiant, test-the-waters mode.

Daddy is working today. Mommy is fun mommy - we watch movies, we play, we sing, we dance. Everything is going great. Then I tell him it's almost nap time so he needs to take off his shoes. All hell breaks lose. He wants his damn Transformer shoes with the heels that light up. He does NOT want them off. So, I take them off and he blows a gasket. Like a two year old. Screaming. Kicking. Hitting. Good lord, kid. Are you serious with this crap? So, honestly, I yelled. I yelled LOUD! Put him in time out. Counted to 10...nope.....20....nope.....30....keep going. He was seriously pissing me off. I hate yelling. I think it's different to have a louder tone as opposed to yelling. I was insolent. I was angry. I just wanted him to shut the hell up. And I truly wanted to beat his little behind. I would never, but oh, sometimes.....the kid tests my resolve. Must everything be such a struggle?

So, we went round and round. I tried to go back to him in time out, he shouted "NO!!!!" at the top of his lungs. Over and over. On and on. And, people, I just could not take it anymore. I bitch slapped the wall. 3 times. 'Til my hand hurt. Funny thing was, Bam-Bam was so shocked that he completely shut up. Then I went over to the steps and collapsed in a heap and cried. Nice job, Mom. Jesus! What is wrong with me? Sometimes it is just so frustrating.

We finally made up and got his stuffed animals, read the story and got his little buns in bed for his nap. I told him Mommy was sorry for yelling at him and told him over and over how much I love him. Hope he's not scarred for life. I really want to be the perfect mom, but, well....it ain't happening.

Two.

Sheesh.

Little shit.

Bad Mommy.

Oh well.

Life goes on.

Flash Forward to Fear

2009-09-19T04:07:00.000-07:00

I've been talking so much about that past, and it's been therapy for me. Truly it has. Today, I want to talk about the present. The present is definitely not as interesting as the past, so I guess that's why I don't bother to bring it up much. I believe that the best way to move forward is to accept the past and charge ahead toward the future. This blog is helping me to do that.

Let me tell you a little about fears. I have them. Probably too many. Most completely irrational. Becoming a mother has introduced a bunch of other fears that I never knew I had. My biggest fear, however, is dying. I don't worry about what will become of my soul. I'm all set there. I don't worry about the dying process. That is scary and unknown, but I realize we all have to do it eventually. I worry about dying while my son is still young. I worry that he will have to have a hard life like I did. I want him to have a childhood. So, I feel like if I die, so does his childhood. I don't even know if I'm making sense. I just want for him all of the things I never had, including a mother who is there for him throughout his childhood. A mother who kisses boo-boo's and gives hugs and kisses. A mother who wants to know how his day was. A mother who pays more attention to him than the phone or her friends. A mother who's there.

What if I'm not? What if something happened to me? My husband is a great man but I'm afraid he would unravel. He's pretty dependent on me. I know, I know. I don't give him enough credit. But I worry. I know it's irrational, nonetheless I worry.

So, how do I let go of these fears? Is this normal? Will there always be some underlying fear?

The Definition of Delegating

2009-09-16T17:39:00.000-07:00

"Daddy," I said, "can you help me?"

"Sure, pussycat. What do you need?"

"Well, I want to draw a picture of you mowing the lawn but I'm not sure how to draw a lawnmower."

(chuckles) "I can try to do that for you. Let me see your crayons."

Daddy drew me a very nice, lawnmower....obviously drawn by an engineer.

"Thanks Daddy. It's SO good!"

I sat coloring quietly for a few minutes.

"Daddy. Um, I need your help again."

"Sure, pussycat. What do you need?"

"Well, now I want to draw a picture of a person pushing the lawnmower but I'm not good at drawing hands. And I don't know how to draw your face with your moustache from the side. Well, you did such a nice job with the lawnmower that I thought you could help me with that part, too."

Dad thinks for a minute.

"Pussycat, I thought you were drawing this for me. Don't you want to do it yourself?"

"Yes, Daddy. Just leave it blank so I can color it in. I will add the background, too. It will be a surprise. Trust me, you will love it!"

And you know what, he drew it. I colored it in. He LOVED it! Great sun and grass and birds in the background.

Mission accomplished.

And that is how I became the great delegator that I am today. Turns out it was instinct.

The Good Babysitter

2009-09-14T17:11:00.000-07:00

Carol was a lady in her late 20's with a brand new baby boy and 2 older boys. She was married to Bob, who for some reason always reminded me of Fred Flintstone. I guess that's because I was four years old. Carol was the total opposite of my mom. She had dark brown hair, freckles, glasses and she loved me. When we were at Bob & Carol's house it was like living in a real family. The boys were like my brothers and I was Carol's only girl. They had the most beautiful and perfect dog, a big Irish Setter with just the right temperament. We played hide & seek, we played Star Wars, Carol cooked nice meals like chili and spaghetti and macaroni and cheese. When I got a boo-boo, Carol would kiss it better. When I was upset, Carol would comfort me. At night, when everyone went to bed, sometimes I would come out and tell Carol that I couldn't sleep. She would pat the couch beside her and I'd lay down next to her. We'd watch The Love Boat and she would stroke my hair and tickle my back until I fell asleep. I would fall asleep feeling loved and secure. And, of course, I would be awakened at 3AM every morning to get in my mom's car after the bars closed and go back to my reality.

As with everyone else in my life, Carol only remained a short time. I'm not sure why we stopped going there but they were the best times of my young life, other than being with my grandma. I always wished Carol could be my real mom. Sometimes, I still do.

9/11/1945

2009-09-12T11:00:00.000-07:00

I received this email today from my grandmother, E.B. Hope you enjoy....

I thought you might like this story of my personal nine/eleven:

......... 64 years ago. Bill and I had traveled by train from Memphis to the farm on Saturday. I was 8 months pregnant and the lady who had rented me a room while Bill was on Base was getting nervous that I might have the baby there . She had rented to me on the condition that I Daddy didn't have a car then and gas was rationed . Maybe Leland Henderson picked us up. Bill left on Sunday to hitch hike back to the Naval Base at Millington.I walked out to the mail box on Highway 307 with him and walked back after he had caught a ride.

On Monday, Mama was going to Mayfield to join her siblings in getting ready for the sale of Grandma Gillam's furniture . Mr. Gillam , Mama's stepfather, had been dragged and kicked to death by a horse he was beating . I decided to go with her and stop in town at the hospital with my government papers to make arrangements for my baby's birth at the Fuller- Gillam Hospital . Incidentally, Anita was the first baby in our family to be born in a hospital...

Leland drove us there before school started. He dropped me off at the hospital and took Mama out to the farm. Uncle Alton, Aunt Pauline, Uncle Curlin, Aunt Mildred, Aunt Myrtle were all there with grandma.

It was a long wait to see the doctor. He was just discharged from the service and the retired doctor who had been called back to the hospital during the War was on a well-earned vacation. Finally I got in for an examination. "Oops", he said, "you're in labor ." "I can't be ", I replied. "I'm not due until October." He said I was dilated, but I had no idea what that meant. I hadn't seen a doctor since I left Athens ,Georgia , 2 months ago . He let me go home to get my necessities for entering the hospital , but he didn't know that I would walk (in high heels) the mile out of town to Grandma's house (at noon on a hot September day ). Everybody was at lunch when I walked in with the announcement : " The doctor says I'm in labor !"

Chairs flew as people jumped up. It was decided that Uncle Alton would take Mama and me back to the farm. All the way,he kept saying, "Don't you have that baby in my car !"

Well , actually, it wasn't until the next day that Anita Ruth made her apperience into this world. She weighed in at 5 lbs, 9 oz . The doctor said he slept in his clothes next to the phone, expecting to be called during the night. I wouldn't let Mama call Bill until the birth had taken place because he was due to solo as a pilot that day ;and I was afraid he would be nervous. So she called him to tell him he had a daughter.. It wasn't the Marine's custom to give leaves for maternity during the War . They had a saying that they hadn't lost a father yet...but one of Bill's friends was on the desk when he got the call and wrote him a leave. He walked in about bedtime grinning from ear to ear. Yes, he had hitch hiked all the way from Memphis to Mayfield .

Scars

2009-09-09T17:01:00.000-07:00

The other night I was changing my clothes and looked down at a little round scar that I have on my stomach from the chicken pox. When I look at that scar, it makes me think back to being 4 years old. My parents had been divorced for about 6 months at this point. My mom had been in a serious car accident on Christmas Eve (1977) and we'd spent a great deal of time with our grandparents. My mom had her nose split open, her wrist broken and her knee sprained when a drunk driver decided to head out on the roads one night after a few too many eggnogs. I thought she was Frankenstein the first time she came to visit and I wouldn't go near her until she left and I screamed and cried for her to come back. I think of that scene a lot because it's such a symbol of the way our relationship has always been.

Anyway, the chicken pox. My mom was healed and finally back to work when my brother and I contracted the chicken pox from the kids of the lady who watched us. Her name was Connie and she had 6 kids. 6 mean kids. And 1 mean lady. And 1 brow-beaten husband, as I recall. Oh, and a really unkempt but sweet dog. You may have memories of having the chicken pox and spending that time being comforted and taken care of by your mother. That is the way I imagined it for everyone else, anyway. For me, it was just another example of us getting in the way. All a kid wants when they're sick and feeling lousy is to be comforted. Connie took care of us while we had the chicken pox.

Let me tell you about Connie. She was a mean, nasty woman who required me to face the wall during my nap. If I turned around in my sleep, I would be manhandled back into the facing-the-wall position. Needless to say, I didn't really sleep when I was at Connie's house. I don't even remember what she looked like but I remember being so afraid of her. I never felt like she treated anyone else as bad as she treated me, and I imagine that I thought that because it was happening to me.

I slept on a cot in the living room of Connie's house. This made it easier for my mother to slip in after she was done working at the bar (Offshore 21 where she was a waitress). She would come in at 3AM and wake us up to get us in the car and then put us in our own beds about 15 minutes later when we got home. Sometimes I think that's why I've never been able to get a good night's sleep. I always seem to be waiting to be woken up.

Once I peed in the cot at Connie's house. I was way past potty training, but Connie didn't allow us to get up once we went to bed. We were expected to hold it. When she discovered that I had urinated in the cot, she humiliated me by waking everyone up in the house to show them what I'd done. Not only that, she encouraged her children to taunt me. They laughed and pointed at me. I felt so ashamed of myself. I felt so worthless. I was 4.

These are just a couple of examples of what happened at Connie's house. I won't keep going because, frankly, it's too painful. You can imagine how nurturing she was with me when I had to go through the pain and discomfort of chicken pox at her house. Dirty, corn starch bath water and "suck it up" were not my idea of being cared for. I believe this experience is the reason that I am acutely aware of who is watching my child at all times. I almost never go out and would not dream of leaving him with someone that I don't know and trust as much as I trust myself. I am terrified of my little boy ever feeling that way.

We didn't stay at Connie's house for long, but it's not because my mom decided to take us from her house. One day, Connie was standing on top of her old hi-fi stereo dusting off a plant. Her house was always a mess and the hi-fi had a bunch of records on top of it. She slipped and fell and broke her back, right there in front of me. I mean RIGHT in front of me. The ambulance came and took her away and my mother was told she would be laid up for quite a while. I always felt bad that I was happy, so happy, when it happened. I wondered if it had happened because I had willed it to happen so I could get away from her. I imagined that I made it happen because I was looking at her. I'll never know the answer to that and I'm quite sure I didn't make it happen....but just the same I always have this little feeling of guilt (and pleasure) when I think of that day.

So, it was back to the child care drawing board for my mom. Luckily, the next stop was a nice one. But that's for another story.

Possibly the Most Romantic Story Ever

2009-09-07T10:47:00.000-07:00

To take a segue in the story, I want to talk about my grandmother, E.B. She's the one I referred to in my introduction as the person to whom I am most grateful for teaching me about perseverance. This is the story of how she and my grandfather met. Prepare yourself for most likely the most romantic story you've ever read. Hopefully I can do it justice and hopefully I get the details relatively accurate.

My grandmother grew up on a farm in a very small, rural town in Kentucky. She was the oldest and had one sister and 3 brothers. The daughter and granddaughter of sharecroppers, E.B. had big dreams. She planned to go to college. This was no small feat, considering that at 18 she was a poor farm girl and it was the early 40's. It was unheard of at the time. But somehow, she convinced her parents that it was the right thing. She was always a smart girl, so perhaps (and this I don't know for sure), they thought it would be a good outlet. I'll never know how she convinced her dad, old Willy the stubborn farmer, that she could do this. Nonetheless, her own stubbornness, inherited from him, had won out.

E.B. set off for Murray State with dreams of becoming a teacher. She devoured college like nothing she'd ever done. She was a straight A student and teacher's pet. She didn't go out, she didn't socialize, she just studied. That was it. She had her eyes on the prize. She was a pretty girl, not beautiful, but a pretty little bookworm notwithstanding.

On the other side of the states in California, a young man named Billy, the son of the first Liquor Control officer of San Francisco, was growing up with dreams of playing football and going to college, probably in that order. He was handsome, not just a little but "movie star" handsome. I heard he was a high school classmate of Lana Turner's. He was a young man who loved to fish. He had deep set, beautiful blue eyes that could cut right through a girl with one look. His dark brown hair and ruddy complexion, combined with the physique of a football player, made him one hell of a package. He set off for Murray State and was chosen for the football team. At the moment, I can't remember what position he played.

While young Billy spent his time playing football and socializing, E.B. was hitting the books. Their paths didn't seem likely to cross. Some time in the Winter or her freshman year, E.B. developed an acute case of appendicitis. Surgery was the only way for her to survive. She had no choice but to submit to the instructions of the college infirmary doctors. When she came to after the surgery, she was told that she would have to skip her exams and rest up. E.B. was livid! She hadn't come this far and worked this hard to miss her exams. She went all the way to the dean and insisted that there had to be some way to complete her studies for the semester. He thought about it, he knew this girl and he knew she was serious. He also knew that she never got out and socialized. He also knew a certain young football player with a strong back and with a way with the girls......

The Dean allowed my grandmother to complete her exams, but only if she would agree to be ushered about campus by a strong football player named Billy. His job was simple, carry her to her classes so she could complete her exams. He agreed and began his duties, perhaps thinking that it would be pretty interesting taking around this bookish girl. During that time, I like to imagine that she showed him a little bit about being more serious and he showed her a little bit about loosening up.

They had known each other for about 3 weeks and E.B. was beginning to heal as they continued their new "friendship". It was beginning to get cold in Kentucky, there was a chill in the air, so Billy invited E.B. to the local coffee shop for toasted cheese sandwiches and hot cocoa. She agreed. As they left the shop that day, on the eve of Christmas vacation, snowflakes slowly started to fall. Growing up in California, Billy had never seen snow before. He was amazed. And maybe it was something about the moment, with this pretty and smart girl that he's known a short time but had fallen in love with, he grabbed her and picked her up in his arms and asked her to marry him. With snowflakes catching in their eyelashes and love swelling in their hearts, E.B. said "Yes, Yes!!!"

Days later, on Christmas Eve, they were married in a small ceremony. My grandmother wore a navy suit and I'm not even sure what grandpa wore, but I bet he looked fantastic. I can only imagine with those piercing blue eyes and, oh, did I mention the deep cleft in his chin? My grandmother told me about their wedding night (without ALL the details - thank God!). They spent that night in her parents living room near the wood burning furnace on the pull-out sofa. My grandmother told me that in the morning when her father came to put more wood in the fire, she blushed under the covers with the knowledge of what she and my grandfather had done the night before. She also told me about her uncomfortable, bouncy horse and buggy ride to church the next morning, if you know what I mean. She thought everyone at church was staring at her and imagining what she'd done. I just love the purity and innocence in that.

This is by far my favorite story. I'd like to tell you that everything after that was happily ever after, and for a time everything was. I'll save the rest for later. I think this one will keep you smiling for a while.

New Direction....How I Started

2009-09-05T05:37:00.000-07:00

Earlier, I posted about work and I just deleted it. It was nice to get that off my chest but far too dangerous. I've decided to take a new direction with my blog and talk about what made me who I am today. I've led an interesting life in the past, which is why I lead a relatively boring (but happily boring) life now. I think it will be good therapy for me and maybe even for you, who knows? And along the way, I suppose some musings from daily life that may serve as comic relief.

I'll give you a small summary to begin with, which will kick off and set the tone for the new blog. How did I come to be a working mom of one and wife? It was quite a road. It started in a little hospital called Mount Clemens General Hospital in Mount Clemens, Michigan. It was 1973, slightly before disco and after hippies. My parents were a young, restless housewife and a mild-mannered, soft-spoken Air National Guardsman. My brother was 3 1/2 years old and not happy about my arrival. He was interested in getting a puppy. Imagine his surprise when he discovered it was me and not a golden retriever wrapped in that receiving blanket. My parents were happy to have a baby girl, though not necessarily happy with each other. I preserved their facade (well, at least my mom's facade) for about 3 1/2 years. My mother told me at some point after I reached adulthood that when they found out she was pregnant with me they had stopped trying for a baby because they were unhappy in their marriage and then....oops...there I was. I'm not sure how she imagined that would make me feel, but then again, my mom isn't so good with caring about how anyone feels but her. My arrival came some time in the middle of the night. My grandmother tells me the story of how she waited and waited for me, then came home from the hospital and collapsed with exhaustion only to awaken a few hours later prepared to go and teach 30 sixth graders whatever it is that you teach sixth graders. I guess nowadays someone in her position would have called in sick but not E.B. Nope, that's where I learned to persevere. She's the one who taught me how to make it in life, even through hard times. Without her, I have no idea where I would be now....but that's for another entry.

I don't really remember much before my mom and dad got divorced. The only part I remember about them being together was fighting. And I remember the day that they told us they were breaking up. I was 3 1/2 years old and my world would never be the same. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I think divorce will scar a child for life...if the parents do it maturely and properly. It's what happens after, with two people that are trying to find themselves while they forget that they created two lives, that's the part that fucks everything up. Anyway, I sat on my toy box when they told me, the one that my dad made for me in his work shop downstairs. Dad's workshop was off limits. To keep me away from the dangerous tools, I was told that the boogey man lived there. Probably not the best thing but it worked. I still look over my shoulder every time I go downstairs to do laundry.

When they told me I didn't really understand. And I didn't realize it at the time, but they had already been separated for some time and sleeping in separate beds. This was just when Daddy was moving out. You have to understand that I was a Daddy's girl. My dad could do no wrong. All I ever wanted was to be with him. To have him hold me. He's the only one who I remember showing me some measure of affection. My mom was always too busy to do that. So him leaving the house was devastating to me. I felt like there was something I'd done to cause it. Somehow if I had been a better girl, he wouldn't be leaving. It was a lot for a little kid to grasp. I wondered if my parents didn't love each other anymore, did that mean that they might stop loving me? It was 1977, before quality time and therapy and all that feelings crap. Nobody told me that they wouldn't stop loving me one day. If they had, years later it would have felt like a lie anyway.