It's Always Something

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?

Random Honest Scrap

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

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

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

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!

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

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

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......

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

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

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

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

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.