Merry Christmas

Ok, it's not Christmas Eve yet, but I'm wishing everyone an early Merry Christmas, as I'm sure I'll be too busy to get my blog taken care of in the next few days. May you get everything on your list!

If you aren't celebrating Christmas, Happy Whateveryoucelebrate, and enjoy your weekend!

What every young man should learn about laundry

Technically, I suppose these rules apply to most anyone, husbands included. Mine has to be watched too! :)

Lesson One- The Laundry Basket

This receptacle is used for two different things: to put dirty clothing into whilst in your room, and to take clean laundry upstairs once it's been laundered in the basement (then put it away). It is NOT used to store laundry, or to keep toys in, or as a step stool (BAD idea), or to trap the cat underneath because "she likes it!"

Lesson Two- Clean Clothing vs. Dirty Clothing

If a certain person who loves you dearly washes your clothing and it makes its way to your room, please do not rudely return it to the laundry room, neatly folded, unworn, at the bottom of the dirty clothes basket. Said person who loves you dearly will not love you for this.

Lesson Three- Socks

I cannot stress this one enough! You ALWAYS turn dirty socks right side out when you put them into the dirty clothes basket, otherwise you will not get clean socks back. Dirty ones will come back. You'll turn what you *think* are clean sock right side out to fold them (or I will), and a shower of dirt and grime will fall into the clean basket. See aforementioned not-love-you-for-this comment.

Also, along the same lines, if you wear two socks, please place two dirty socks into the dirty laundry. If two socks don't go in, two socks cannot magically come out clean on the other side.

Lesson Four- Jeans

I know you love your jeans, one pair for every day of the week. My washing machine does NOT love your jeans that much, meaning it cannot handle an entire week's worth of jeans at once. You will not get a clean result, and it will take you a month of Sundays to dry them all. Unless you want to sell your PSP and all it's games on eBay to pay for a new washer and dryer, don't pull this stunt....ever.

Lesson Five- Underwear

Ok. I. Have. Had. It. What is it with the male of the species and lack of personal hygiene when it comes to underwear?! I will not cover this topic any further. I have to go buy bleach.

I'm going to stop here for now. The piles are getting so high, I can't see my screen anymore, so I'll have to do a part II on this, I think.

Who lies about their age? Not me!

This week marks the first anniversary of my 29th birthday. That's not a lie. It's completely true. And next year will be the second anniversary. You got a problem with that?!



I have decided that although I'm the World's Meanest Mom, I'll spare my kids from the pain and anguish of having the World's Oldest Mom, as I'm not going to age, at least chronologically, from here on out. I will no longer be counting years that I've been on this earth, I'll be counting anniversary years, celebrating my 29th birthday. It makes sense, and I'll tell you why. When you ask a woman her age (which, by the way, you should NEVER do, under penalty of law and certain death), she will always coyly answer, "29." Well, she will if she's anything over 39 and looks a day over it, she will. I've just decided that I'll forgo the whole 30-something era and stick to the plan early on. I think my kids will thank me for it later on. Until I'm younger than they are.

My vote for World's Worst Mother...

would definitely have to go to Lynn Spears. I mean, COME ON!!! What is wrong with this picture?! This whole hot mess their family exists in is the reason I remain the World's Meanest Mom. I will continue to put my own foot down to prevent this type of stuff from happening. Let's recap a bit, shall we?!

Britney. *cringes* When you utter her name, a whole bunch of negativity goes along with it these days. She's a crappy mother in her own right. She started out her career as a budding little singer on the Mickey Mouse Club, which was commendable at the time. Ok, I can deal with that. Then she went into bubblegum pop, dressed like a schoolgirl, tempting every pervert out there, at the age of 15. Um, hello? Lynn? Did you pick that out for her? Or did you just sit in your new SUV at the drive-thru at the bank, cashing all the checks, but saying it was going into a trust for when she was older to make yourself look good, so as to not be confused with Gary Coleman's parents?!

Fast forward a few years. The pop princess isn't as popular as before, so we need to whore it up a little, so someone gets an idea to strip onstage and wear a big yellow snake and barely anything else. Lynn! Paging Lynn Spears! Any mother in her right mind would have said "Hell no!", even to her adult daughter, had she have said [insert heavy Southern accent here] "Um, Momma...I'm gonna wear these 2 threads and an elastic waistband, with a few sequins sewn on it to my concert tonight. Oh, and there's gonna be a snake there I'm wearin' too. If I wear much more, my manager says I might get too hot under all those big ol' lights." [end accent]

Can't forget the quickie wedding in Vegas to that poor Louisiana boy, who probably thought she really liked him. Lynn did get involved here...after the fact, to make sure he didn't talk to anyone and that he didn't get any of Brit Brit's hard-earned cash. I do feel sorry for the guy- he didn't deserve that train wreck. Then the second wedding was just a longer disaster, and I have to feel a bit sorry for K-Fed too, although he's not much higher up on the food chain than Britney. At least he's making an attempt to parent those poor boys! Sean Preston is a week older than The Little Man, so I know how he's growing up, what stages he's (supposed to be) at, and I cry a little inside. He needs a momma who loves him, who respects him enough to be his momma first and a media whore second...or actually, not at all.

Now, we come to today's news. The good sister, Jamie Lynn, star of Nickelodeon's "Zoey 101", is preggers...by her 19yo boyfriend...whom she lives with...at the ripe old age of 16. I can't tell you ALL things I find wrong with this, or I'd be here all night. Yes, I got pregnant at 17, but I was NOT living with my adult boyfriend as a minor, who was committing statutory rape. Paging Lynn again...and the POLICE! Maybe they don't get the tabloids there in California or Louisiana, or maybe they don't have the Internet, so let's give them the benefit of the doubt here. I also was using birth control, which happened to fail. I also wasn't given all the privilege that Jamie Lynn was, and I most certainly DID NOT go to an F-ing magazine to flaunt it to the world. I am ashamed of her for doing that, not for the pregnancy itself. Who does that?! Stuff happens, and you deal with what comes, but she set herself up to fail in all of this. And so did Lynn. Nice going!
I do wish Jamie Lynn well with her new baby, and I'm glad she chose to continue her pregnancy, but this will not be an easy road for her. I hope her boyfriend does right by her and the baby, not necessarily a teenage wedding, but that he accepts his responsibility for his child and treats his baby's mother with the respect she deserves. This was a 50/50 deal here, as it always is.

My favorite part in all of this is the conversation that I'M SURE will take place at some point, if it already hasn't, and that is the one that surrounds the release of Lynn Spears's parenting book, which is slated for release on Mother's Day 2008. She seems like the kind of person who'd get all over her younger daughter for tainting her book release with her unplanned teen pregnancy, and how that would make Lynn look as a parent. Well, Lynn, you are so right. But you already looked like a rotten parent, so why should you stop now?! Go ahead and release your book. No one wants to read about how 'hard' it was to raise two has-beens, who fell out of the limelight in their prime because they chose to make awful life decisions, due to a lack of morals their parents should have taken the time to instill in them, instead of trying to push their babies into the limelight in the first place.

That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it!

What?! NO TREE???

There will be no tree in our home this year. We have decided that, since we aren't celebrating any Christmases here with any gift openings, we are not going to bother dragging out the tree and all the trimmings. We'd have to go to the storage unit and find it all, then get all that stuff here, find room for the extra stuff in the basement while it's here, then pack it all up in a few weeks and take it back. Notice, when I'm saying WE, it's in bold. That would be because we actually only means my dear husband. HE doesn't want to do any of this stuff this year. I caved because I'm just too stressed to keep up the fight this year. I can barely keep up the blog these days, I'm so busy with other stuff!

Next year for sure I will have my tree. Clark better get his boots on, so he can trudge through the snow...and he better not forget his ax this time.

The obsession continues...

Ok, so what? Some women relax with chocolate. Some like a glass of wine in the evening. I just happen to enjoy curling up and watching Harry Potter movies. That being openly admitted to now, today is a good day. It's December 11th...the release of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix on DVD.

I preordered it, so it was quietly delivered to my doorstep my the UPS man this morning around 9:30 AM (not that I was timing it or anything). I've been waiting for months for it, after having the distinct pleasure of seeing OotP in IMAX. THAT was sweet! Now granted, the DVD will not live up to that experience, but the movie itself was very good, and I am always happy to see more of the series on screen now.

I am also not ashamed to say that, once the UPS man had rounded the corner, I was like one of my kids on Christmas morning. I tore into my package as thought it was rations and I hadn't eaten in months. It was sad, really. I couldn't get the stupid thing open fast enough to bask in the glory of my newest possession. The Precious had arrived. I popped it into the DVD player, hoping to be able to sit and watch it this morning, as all was fairly quiet. The DIVA and The Big Man were at school, and The Little Man was happily attached to his toys and his Spongebob DVD in his own room, so my chances were good, right? Wrong!

How could I be so silly as to think that I might possibly get to do something that I wanted to do?! I am now going to sulk and cut it off for now, and I will come back to it later on this afternoon, hopefully when someone is taking a nap. If all else fails, Harry and friends will have to wait until late tonight, when everyone else is asleep and I am suffering from chronic insomnia again.

Peace and Quiet....Otherwise known as "Retirement"

I envy my father-in-law. Seriously, I do. He spent many years in a state job, only to be richly rewarded with a hand-signed letter of commendation for his service from the Governor, and some pension and medical care thrown in for his and my mother-in-law's enjoyment during their golden years. And that was the fun part! ;)

No, I truly envy him because he now has peace and quiet. If he wants it. His hobby is photography, so he will often steal away to photograph serene environments upstate in the woods or wherever. I need a "job" like that. In my home, there is no such thing as peace and quiet. And there never will be, the way I see it. Even if the kids are gone for an afternoon, there is still chaos, as Sweet Pea manages to stir up trouble in their absence. I think they plan it that way. I have no idea why though. I could swear they have a radar that senses a quiet moment in time approaching, then they go into attack mode to assure that moment in time is filled to the brim with excitement, whether it be positive or negative.

I'm in dire need of some peace and quiet right now. I have Christmas stuff to do. I have cards to write, gifts to figure out/buy online/wrap, cookies to bake (yes, I plan to do it this year), and possibly, maybe even get a tree up at some point. I do want some decor around here, but Dad and I are at odds about this one little detail...

The Little Man, according to Dad, will destroy a tree. I disagree. He states that The Little Man will remove everything from the tree, bit by bit. I say no, you just have to deter him from doing it. So, we are at an impasse. I think he is just avoiding the tree altogether because he promised me a REAL TREE last year. I am sick of a plastic one, don't care how much of a mess it will make, am not worried about keeping it watered or that it might catch fire. I want a real tree and I shall have a real tree. Come hell or high water, this home will have an evergreen in it. If he keeps pushing me, it will be the 5 of us, trudging around like Clark Griswold and clan in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Trust me, that will not be pretty! If I get my real tree, there can be peace and quiet across the land once more. Well, sort of- at least until I retire, when I'm dead! ;)

Thanks for giving!

Ok, I made it through Thanksgiving weekend in one piece. Whew!

First, there was the holiday. We packed up the three kids and headed over to my in-laws' for the day. They cooked up a feast for us, which was wonderful (as usual). My own mother was invited to join us, and she brought pork hocks and sauerkraut, a Polish tradition and disgusting, but my mother-in-law enjoys it as well, so the two moms happily dined on it. Blech! I can eat Frank's kraut, warmed from the can, nothing else on it, but not the Polish stuff, and certainly not the German stuff. Double Blech!! The kids all ate pretty well, even The Big Man. He had chicken fingers, as he doesn't eat turkey. I don't eat turkey either, so my father-in-law made me a steak (bless him!). He always cooks up some red meat for me, even though I've told him it's not necessary. I won't die if I don't eat the turkey- there's plenty of other stuff there to eat too!

My mom brought over her holiday flyers too, and she and my sister brave Black Friday every year to get some deals. They carefully plot their attack the night before, so they can get in and out of each store with what the want and with as little hassle as possible. I refuse to go (not that crazy...yet), but I wanted to look over their plan to see if there was anything I wanted them to pick up. Found a couple of things, nothing huge this year, so I added them to their list before she headed over to my sister's for their strategic meeting. We had to head home a little earlier than we planned, as The Little Man started melting away in desperate need of a nap mid afternoon, so we all parted ways at that point. It was a very nice holiday!

The weekend brought a wedding for me to coordinate at my church. It was interesting, to say the least. The ceremony (NOT mass) was to include a reading from "The Velveteen Rabbit"...yes, that would be the children's book...so I had to type that up, as we didn't have it listed in out standard book of readings. Imagine that. They also pulled their other readings off the Internet, I believe, so our copies were not the same as what they had, so I had to retype those as well. All this extra work had to be done the night before, after the rehearsal dinner. There were a number of family members who wanted to run the show, who had very little patience with the fact that my whole job is to tell everyone where to go and when. That's what I do- I COORDINATE THINGS. We all made it through though without a scratch (ok, a few), and the bride and groom were never the wiser, which is the most important part. I've had weddings go into almost complete meltdown, so this was definitely a good weekend.

The only really bad part was that their wheat stalks they used as decor left a huge mess in the gathering area, and I had to vacuum the whole thing before I left. This was very bad because my herniated discs do not allow for this sort of activity, but I had to do it. I will be paying for this for a long time. I still very much enjoy this ministry to the church though, even with a few kinks here and there. Keeps me on my toes, physically and mentally! :)

I really am just one big heaping pile of Jello

What Makes a Mother

I thought of you all, I closed my eyes and prayed to God today.

I asked what makes a Mother and I know I heard Him say,

"A Mother has a baby. This we know is true."

"But God, can you be a Mother when your baby's not with you?"

"Yes you can!", He replied, with confidence in His voice,

"I give many women babies, when they leave is not their choice.

Some I send for a lifetime and others for a day.

And some I send to feel your womb but there's no need to stay."

"I just don't understand this God, I want my baby here!"

He took a breath and cleared His throat and then I saw a tear.

"I wish I could show you what your child is doing today.

If you could see your child smile with other children and say,

'We go to earth to learn our lessons of love and life and fear.

My Mommy loved me oh so much, I got to come straight here.

I feel so lucky to have a Mom who had so much love for me

I learned my lesson very quick, My Mommy set me free.

I miss my Mommy oh so much, but I visit her each day.

When she goes to sleep on her pillow's where I lay.

I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear,

'Mommy don't be sad today! I'm your baby and I'm here.'

"So you see, my dear sweet one, your children are OK.

Your babies are here in my home, and this is where they'll stay.

They'll wait for you with me until your lesson is through.

And on that day that you come home, they'll be at the gates for you.

So now you see what makes a Mother: it's the feeling in your heart.

It's the love you had so much of, right from the very start.

Though some on earth may not realize that you are a Mother until their time is done.

They'll be up here with me one day and know you're the best one.

Written with love, for all the Mother's missing their babies, by Jennifer Wasik

I got this poem from someone a while back, when I really needed it. You see, The Diva, The Big Man, and The Little Man have 2 brothers and 2 sisters they've never met. Someday, when all is said and done, they will. We all will meet. I miss them desperately right now. This will soon pass, as it always does, but I go through periods of time when I miss my angel babies more than anything. I was deprived of being their mother and it's not fair- not to me, and not to them. It's not fair to my other kids that they missed out on having more brothers and sisters, and not fair that my husband didn't get to father them either. Life isn't fair.

My mortality is getting to me right now. I have yet to get a clean bill of health as far as this breast cancer thing is concerned. When I went to the doctor today, my mammography report said that there were some spots that were not able to be seen due to the fibrous tumors, so my OB/GYN (my lifesaver right now, both physically and emotionally) is speaking with the radiologist regarding the interpretation of his findings. It basically means, I'm not out of the woods yet. I'm doing ok I guess, but this is just irritating that I have to hurry up and wait, you know? I'm sure you've all been in a situation where you've been made to wait for results of a test and been totally stressed out about it. If it wasn't cancer-related, multiply your worry ten-fold!

I am feeling more like myself, now that my doc's had a chance to sit down with me and go over the results, and we've developed another plan from this point. We'll just take this as it comes, and she'll be there to support me. She's truly a Godsend right now! Just keep good vibes coming my way...I'll take all I can get right now. I will keep everyone posted on this matter, as well as some non-tear-inducing antics here one of these days.

The Big Man strikes back

We have a bit of a penchant for the dramatics here in our home. I believe my eldest son would come out on top if we were to have a contest to see who could argue semantics the longest, but not the loudest. I won't say who'd win that one. I am shocked and amazed at how this child, this mere babe in the woods, will go to the greatest of lengths to argue his position on anything I or Dad say. He will purposely take what we say out of context, so that it fits his needs at the time. He's learned this from The DIVA, however he's chosen to perfect this art form rather than take after her in the art of lying and manipulation. What can I say? He's blazing his own trail, and so I'm proud of him for that.


Tonight, I took The Big Man to the grocery store with me. It was just the two of us, which is rare, so I expected stellar behavior honestly. There wasn't anyone to fight with, right? WRONG!! I was there, so he took full advantage. Had he have been all alone, I think he would have picked a fight with a stranger tonight. I'm waiting for the black eye when he steps off the school bus one day, but I digress...


I went up and down the aisles in the store, as I always do, with The Big Man driving the cart. He didn't even ask for a million and one things, so maybe that should have put me on guard a little. Yes, that should have been the huge, waving red flag to tell me that something was amiss. I knew he was a bit tired, but weren't we all by dinnertime? I certainly didn't expect the backlash of disrespect and uncouth behavior that was thrown my direct without warning. It started when I simply asked him not to put bananas on top of the hamburger buns. What was I thinking, bringing such a ridiculous thing to his attention?! You would have thought I stabbed him in the ear, with the pirate one-eye-closed, facial-wrenching look he gave me, as he threw the food down and refused to continue helping me bag. I asked him what the problem was, and a stream of expletives that would make said pirate blush were hurled at me in a manner that made a large number of other shoppers turn around and look at me with disgust. HEY! I didn't say it!!


If I didn't have a cart full of stuff to deal with, already paid for and waiting to go to my car, I'd have dragged him out and let him have it. When I say that, I mean, I'd have slapped his mouth, put him in the car, and hollered at him while speeding home, so that most people (other than those in cars around me at stoplights) were unable to here me while I reprimanded him for his little stunt. NO, I don't beat my kids. Yes, I probably should have been a bit more firm when they were younger and (possibly) prevented this, but hindsight is always 20/20. I have a great aunt who, before she passed on, would wallop her kids one and say "That's for nothing, now try something!" Needless to say, the preemptive crack kept them from starting their crap, in public or in private. Those were different times though.


I don't lay a hand on any of my kids often, and if I do, it's enough to say, "HEY! INAPPROPRIATE!!" Never have I even hurt them. They usually laugh in my general direction afterwards, if it's any consolation to you nay-sayers. The Big Man wasn't even mad at me really, he just had a hard day at school today and was tired, so who better to take that out on than the person who'll love you unconditionally, no matter what, right? I didn't lay a hand on him tonight though, nor did I yank him out of the store. I held myself together and packed up the groceries, loaded the van, and drove home. I let Dad take care of it! I'm a rotten mother and a terrible human being, so sue me. I'm sure everyone reading this right now has never done a single thing wrong in their lives. I'm fine with my imperfections, and I'll stick Dad with it on occasion. He deserves it sometimes...na na na boo boo!

My face, coming to an Internet near you!

Everyone has heard about all of these social networking sites, so I won't start naming them all. If you haven't, you've been living under a rock, in the farthest part of Siberia, under a huge snowbank as well. Global warming is the only reason you are here reading this today.

I think these sites are great to reconnect with those people we've lost touch with after high school or college. I have a page of my own, although I'm not going to link it here, to protect the innocent. I know that my old boyfriends would be ashamed if I started dragging their names and faces through the mud (again), so I'll just keep that part of my life separate (for now). These sites are full of people looking for old pals, as well as new ones. They're also in search of love out there in cyberspace, which is all well and good too. MY problem with them comes in when parents let their young kids get a page and make it public for the whole world to see, literally. I can't comprehend this. But then again, maybe it's the meanness coming out. I think it is...here is comes...

The DIVA got caught tonight with a page on one of these sites. It was set up two days ago, unbeknownst to me or her father, and she got ratted out by The Big Man too. She was supposed to be helping with the laundry in the basement, not helping herself to the computer in my office. I wasn't standing there over her shoulder, thinking that since she's 12, she could conduct herself in an appropriate manner and I could trust her word that she was actually doing laundry down there. Silly me. I am not amused by this. I believe I used a few expletives in my tirade (ok, a lot of them), as well as the words "pervert" and"pedophile", and the phrase "what the hell were you thinking?!" a number of times (lost count at 100). My darling child used her real name, her real zip code, and used "sexxxy" to describe herself. She has "friends" whose photos show them half-naked. WTF?!?! Sorry...I'm really overemotional right now. I made the assumption that I was bringing up my kids properly, that they knew the difference between right and wrong. I have been over personal and Internet safety with both of the older ones, as have their schools, so I'm really confused as to how this page came to be. Needless to say, the page no longer exists.

I am the World's Meanest Mom and will not allow my children online like this! These sites are NOT designed for children, and when I say "children", I mean anyone under 18. Some of the content on there is not meant for kids, although the sites claim to be keeping it clean and have ways to report inappropriate content. If you have allowed your child to have a page like this, think about why you've allowed it. Is it to contact friends they already have? If so, isn't that what school or the phone is for?! Most, if not all, of them are using these pages to contact new friends, of various ages, with various types of photos on their own pages, and if you are not watching them closely, you could have a very serious problem on your hands. The DIVA tells me about how her friend was contacted by a boy who said he was 14 but really was 31. NICE! My sister-in-law has mentioned my niece being online as well, and I have warned her about this same stuff. The Internet is a scary place, and if you think it won't happen to you, think again. The guy around the corner from us is a convicted pedophile...our homeowners association is in litigation to have him evicted for conducting illegal activities in the neighborhood, since he surfed the stuff at home too. Sicko.

If you are letting your kids online, use IMSafer to try and monitor what's happening with their IM's and chat logs. Go to http://www.imsafer.com/ to download your FREE copy. It will help you keep track of what your kids are saying online, if they're trying to arrange meeting, if they're talking to people older than they should be, so USE IT. Keep your kids safe however you can.

Don't make me have to come over there!

My Prison Name

My WHAT?!

Yes, my Prison Name! I was just as stunned as you when I was reading this in a post on http://www.cafemom.com/, but I thought, what the hey? I'll try it out.

My prison name is

The Polish Assassin!

This is absolutely hilarious to me, and upon finding out my new name, I was laughing hysterically (which, if you read my previous post, I desperately needed). My husband was getting on me about it because The Little Man had just gone to bed, and apparently my high-pitched cackling was going to keep him awake. Yeah, right. This is the child who will fight sleep until the wee hours of the morning, well past the time when his father has been peacefully snoring and keeping the NEIGHBORS in the next zip code awake. But God forbid I laugh. Now why was I laughing like a maniac? Because I'm actually Polish. What are the odds?! Granted, I'm not an actual assassin, but I have felt like killing some people in the last 48 hours here. I think it's funny and if you can't give me that, well...I have a few choice words I won't say right now, let's put it that way. Maybe I should start embroidering The Polish Assassin on my undies for when I go into the Big House after the meanness gets the best of me. MWUAHAHAHAHA! If you want to find out what your name would be, please visit http://www.quizpox.com/quiz.php?id=9 and let me know to whom I should address your Christmas card.

I'm passing the crown

No, not THAT crown, silly! The other crown I wear...the one that says I have to be the strong one who fixes everything. The one that says I have to be the one who makes everything ok and smooths it all over. I've decided to pass that one off, so if you want it, it's yours. I have recently had a health scare, and I'm not afraid to talk about it. If fact, it really helps to do so, as I've had a head full of worry and need to get it out before it pops clean off!

Last week, I had a post-op appointment with my OB/GYN, after my Novasure procedure. For those of you who've never heard of it, Novasure is a new, faster way to perform an endometrial ablation. You can read more about it at http://www.novasure.com/, if you have "female problems" to address. Anyway, the procedure went great- no more periods for me, evah! WOO HOO!!! So, this is all going great, when we get to the part where I have to have my annual breast exam. We didn't get a chance to do it at my last visit a month prior, as it was a hectic one. My doctor, whom I'd also consider a friend, asked me if I'd noticed any changes at all, so I told her about the pain I'd been having on the right side, that had been present for at least a year. I'd also noticed some small bumps in both breasts that had been present since nursing my Little Man, who's 2 now, so again, more than a year on those too. I just attributed all of this to changes that occurred when my breasts changed from hormones during pregnancy and nursing...no biggie, right?


WRONG!


I got the distinct pleasure of being frightened out of my wits now. My doctor scheduled me for a diagnostic mammogram at The Breast Center, which I thought maybe I'd be able to avoid for a few more years. There's a strong history of breast and gynecological cancer in my family, so I knew I'd have to be diligent in the coming years, just not this soon. The earliest they could see me over there was a week later, so I get to spend this week waiting impatiently to find out what the hell is going on here. It was not the most pleasant of weeks, let me tell you.

I spent my time trying to immerse myself in my work. Were I not a Family Traditions Consultant, this wouldn't be so hard! My work consists of talking to people about how to start new traditions with their families, and how to instill values in their children. I also teach them how to leave their legacy for the generations to come. I show them how to create albums of their family's memories, photos, stories, whatever they want to preserve for their children and grandchildren. You can see how this could be paining for someone who could be facing the Big C here! I tried really hard to stay away from that, but it didn't work, so I faced it head-on. I decided exactly how things would go if I ended up having breast cancer, so here is the plan...

If I have cancer, The DIVA, The Big Man, and The Little Man will NOT be informed of my condition. They seen their mother sick enough, and they don't need to worry. I go to doctor's appointments all the time, with physical therapy and such, so they are used to me doing that and will think nothing of regular appointments with oncology. I see no reason to further disrupt their lives when I'm sure I'll be at a stage where we can beat this. If it's determined I have to go through chemo, I will then have a Head-Shaving Party with my closest family and friends. We'll send the kids to stay with Grandma and Grandpa or Grandmama, so they don't ask questions. I plan to have these folks help cut my hair, then I'll send it off to have it made into a wig for myself. This will further conceal my condition. I also don't wish to have clumps of it falling out all over the place! I know that this may seem rash to some, but this is the way I want it. If I have some control, I will feel better about this...I don't care how others feel, it's about how I feel.

So, fast forward the week to November 15...My husband and I arrive at The Breast Center. He has to stay in the waiting room, which bothers me, but I understand, as it's an X-ray after all. I get prepared, and the technologist and I talk about how to proceed. She says she thinks, due to my age and the density of my breasts, we should do the ultrasound first because the mammogram probably won't show them what they need to see anyway. I say whatever, she's the boss, since I've never done this before. She talks to the radiologist, who says we should shoot a few pics, to have a baseline, since that's what my doctor ordered, and then we'll do the ultrasound after that. Ok, let's get this over with! We do two top shots and two side shots. The technologist tells me to wait right here, we'll do the ultrasound in a few minutes, and she goes to show the shots to the radiologist. In what seemed like 10 seconds, she comes back in and tells me everything's clear and I can go home. I was both surprised and baffled, since that was A) not the original plan, and B) not sure what "clear" meant, so I started asking questions. She wasn't willing to answer any of them and kept referring me back to my regular doctor. I asked about what was found- was it cysts? was it 'masses'? what are we looking at here? She said "Everything needs to be followed up in clinic now." When I left my doctor's office the week prior, she had told me that The Breast Center would handle everything from that point on, so now I was TOTALLY CONFUSED...AND HURT...AND SCARED EVEN MORE!

So I left. I got myself dressed, walked out to the waiting room, and got my husband, who was surprised to see me. He was expecting to come back and join me for the ultrasound because they had come out there and told him that prior to my appearance! He was just as confused as I was, sans the hurt and scared part, at this point. I was on the phone with my doctor's office before I hit the parking ramp. I finally get a call returned, from one of the triage nurses, who is just as vague on the results, if not more so. If I could have strangled someone at this point, I think I would have. A person's health in relation to a possible cancer diagnosis is nothing to screw around with, people! My doc was out of the office, otherwise I would have spoken with her directly. I now have an appointment with her on 11/26 to get my official results, as well as a plan of action from here. I'm hurt, angry, disgusted, scared, worried, stressed frustrated, just about every single emotion one can have, all rolled into one right now. The waiting game continues.

My gut tells me that I will be ok. My brain tells me that something is brewing, and I need to cover all my bases, just to be sure. The woman on Good Morning America (her name escapes me right now) had her mammogram, but they missed her cancer. Had she not have had the ultrasound, they never would have found it. I'm worried that I'll be in that category, especially since my family history is very strong AND nothing every seems to go right for me medically. I have to try and relax and make it through the holiday with a smile on my face, but I'm melting emotionally inside. I am a stoic women, and I don't normally let this sort of thing affect me like this, but this time is very different for me. I can't say "I'll be ok, I'll make it through" with complete certainty this time around. Let someone else stand up and wear the "Big Girl" crown right now.

Pray for me, send good vibes, whatever it is you do...I'd appreciate it. My kids, if they knew, would appreciate it too.

Woo Hoo!...I can dream, can't I?

Does the sight of these men interest you?

What about this one?

Ok, last chance here. ANYTHING?!

Fine, I will admit it to the world. I have a "thing" for Harry Potter. The series, not the boy...although Daniel Radcliffe is a fine actor in every sense of the word. ;) I was happy to hear that he will be reprising his role in Equus on Broadway here in the US in the fall of 2008. I just might have to find a ticket to New York. Would that be an odd thing...?

Anyway, back on topic! The point of my post is to say that I don't know that I can continue to wait any longer for the next Harry Potter movie, The Order of the Phoenix, to come out on DVD. It's only a few more weeks, but it seems like forever. I think I hate the wait more than my kids, which is both hilarious and frightening at the same time. I scare myself and others at times- he he!

I have a friend (who just might read this!) who happens to live outside and work in London. I have to say, I have given him quite the row on a few occasions, due to the fact that he has yet to pick up a Harry Potter book or see a movie. I think this is blasphemy in the HP world! I think he'd love the read, quite honestly, even thought he's very classically trained when it comes to literature. I find the books to be very engaging for the imagination, and one can immerse themselves in the wizarding world, which can be done nowhere else (other than the movies). Sir J, if you are reading this tonight, I implore you, please pick up The Philosopher's Stone! If you don't, I'm going to spend the money and mail it to you for Christmas, whether you like it or not. HRRMPH! *slams door* ;)

The mean-meanie-est part of being a mom in regards to Harry Potter is that I get to hog the DVD until I've watched it myself. MWUAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I don't hand it over, nor do I watch it with the kids, until I've had a chance to lie in bed and relax and view it alone at least once. I take to my bed with MY DVD...so what?! They get over it. I usually fall asleep watching the older movies on a regular basis. I find them very relaxing, but I don't really know why. Maybe it's because they have a certain darkness to them. Maybe it's because my husband doesn't bother me when I watch them, as he'd rather watch football or reruns of something else. Maybe it's that Harry Potter is my personal escape from the real world, when everything else is so friggin' crazy around here, and I don't have to think at all about it. I'm entitled to one vice, and if this is the only one I have, since I don't drink heavily or smoke or chase men, I think I'm doing ok. Well, maybe I might chase these men...if I were single. ;)

Dr Mom

On the battlefield, gaping wounds were dressed with whatever was available at the time. Luckily, this happened in my kitchen, where the first aid kit was readily available. If all else failed, I did have needle and thread available too. It almost came to that...

I was trying to get some much-needed rest. The DIVA has been begging for more responsibility around here, so I gave it to her. She and The Big Man were to keep an eye on The Little Man while I went to lay down for a bit, since I hadn't slept in days (for various reasons), and The DIVA was also allowed to make cookies with the new cookie dough we got from her chorus fundraiser. She was thrilled! I think this was more about the cookies though than the watching-your-brother part, as the melee ensued as soon as I was out of earshot (or so they thought).

I just let them squabble out the simple stuff- what to watch on tv, who was going to play what with The Little Man, where his cup was, blah, blah, blah. I didn't move. It wasn't going to draw any blood, right? Well, apparently not in this case. All of a sudden, The Little Man starts to shriek a shriek of pain, not the usual "I'm not getting my way" shriek. The DIVA yells at The Big Man to quit hitting The Little Man, who then shouts back that he never touched him and that The Little Man is bleeding. The DIVA comes out to the living room from the kitchen to inspect the damage, then freaks out and hollers up to me, "MOM! THE LITTLE MAN'S BLEEDING REALLY BAD! YOU GOTTA COME DOWN, QUICK!"

I believe I flew down the stairs, as I don't recall my feet actually hitting the floor. As I catapult over the baby gate at the bottom, I see my youngest son covered- yes, COVERED- in his own blood, with a pool of it on the hardwood floor at his feet, standing there screaming. The DIVA is holding his hands, which somewhere hold the source of the gushing, as she continues to freak out. The Big Man has locked himself in the powder room, scared to death from all the blood. I don't blame him at this point. I try to calm everyone (including myself!) and take my baby's hands to try and see where the blood is coming from, and it appears to be the pointer on his right hand. I inspect further, and I see a very deep gash, caused by God-knows-what. I am livid but have no time to deal with that right now. There are more pressing matters.

I scoop up the baby and head to the powder room, leaving a trail of tears and blood, and I shoo my eldest son out so I may prepare for surgery, STAT. I get the first aid kit, but there's nothing to use for a tourniquet, so I just grab a wad of Kleenex, hold it on there, and try to elevate his hand. He's slowly fading in my arms, part from blood loss and part from crying and being scared, so he just lays on my shoulder and cries while I continue treatment. I had him sitting on the counter at this point, so I could use both hands to fix him and cuddle him at the same time. I got out the gauze, stretchy bandages, and antibacterial cream, and I settled in to work. I removed the Kleenex, and we had a pumper! I got worried at this point, so I called the nurse line, as of course, this was a Saturday. She said as long as it quits within a half hour, we should be ok. I then fashioned him a gauze & stretchy bandage finger cover, tight enough to stop the bleeding right around a half hour later....when he was sleeping on my bed, watching Toy Story (yes, Toy Story- don't ask).

Oh, I forgot! It might interest you to know how my precious little friend received this awful war wound. Whilst his loving sister and brother were in the middle of their "you do it, I'm not going to watch him!" argument, The Little Man had gone over to meddle in the recyclables bag, which hangs on the door leading to the garage. In it, he found an opened can of corn- you know, the kind where the lid hadn't been opened all the way, and was attached by just a little edge? Well, he decided it needed to come out, so he reached in and pulled on it, on the jagged edge, and voila! Instant amputation!! I seriously thought the boy would have to have stitches on this, but judging from this photo, he seemed to have made it through just fine. (Note the fabulous McNamara/Troy repair job I've done to his finger here- I'll post an 'after' in a week or two...please feel free to email for appointments.)

As for The DIVA and The Big Man...they didn't get yelled at for this at all. The sight of all the blood, helping me patch up their brother by handing me supplies, The DIVA helping clean things up, all were punishment enough for them. They were scared out of their minds, and both were more sincerely apologetic than they had ever been before in their lives. I didn't feel the need to have a freak-out session on them at all. To tell you the truth, I felt sorry for them after all was said and done. I hugged them both and simply said, "It's ok. The Little Man will be ok. If you apologize to anyone, apologize to him." And they did. Both of them kissed his little baby finger, and it was very sweet. I am quite sure they learned their lesson about listening, about helping out, and about the fact that their little brother will be ten steps ahead of them if they're not watching very closely!

Get out your checkbooks for this Picasso, folks!

This is what happens when you look away for only a few moments...

My precious Little Man was seated on my bed, literally on my feet, as we watched the Backyardigans this afternoon. He was quietly sitting there, just looking at the TV, or so I thought. I popped up to go to the bathroom, and when I came out, I discovered why he was so quiet. The whole time he was sitting there, HE WAS DRAWING ALL OVER HIMSELF...WITH A PURPLE SHARPIE!!!

Now this Sharpie had been missing for a few days, since Friday night, when I guess it got caught up in my blankets somewhere. Yes, The Little Man had found it, and under the guise of cooperation and silent television viewing, he was creating a permanent masterpiece on his skin. Well, I must admit, I AM a lover of tattoos and body art, but certainly not in this fashion. This is my fault because I didn't search harder for the pen, but I had honestly forgotten then it was even in the bed by then. Believe me, I clear it all out when he comes in here, as he is a Curious George in here. We have a Sleep Number Bed, so he uses the controls to blow the bed chambers up and then release the air. He uses the remotes for the TV, DVD player, and the ceiling fan to his delight until I wrestle them away, if I haven't hidden them before he comes in here. I know enough to toddler-proof as much as possible, even for a movie or nap time in here. I failed miserably today.

* SIGHS *

"Little Man! What are you doing?!" I said to him. He looks directly at me and says, "I color!" and holds the pen out to me. I took it from him and shook my head...what else could I do? What's done is done at this point! I just laughed at him and took the picture you see here. He was happy to pose for photos, as usual, so I took a few before we tried to clean him up. I wasn't sure where to start since this was permanent ink. I decided on baby wipes because they have a bit of alcohol in them, but they won't be too hard on his baby skin. After a dozen wipes and scrubbing for 20 minutes, the drawings are faded but still there. They will fade in a week or so, I'm sure. I'm not too worried. He's not the first child I have to color on themselves with permanent ink, although the unnamed party was definitely NOT a toddler at the time. (If you are reading this, you know who you are, and it did go away eventually!)

Maybe The Little Man has a wonderful art career ahead of him. He does love to paint and color, on everything. He's done my walls, floors, kitchen table, bathtub, couch, front window, coloring books, and now, himself. He's a multimedia artist! I should get him an agent before he turns 3 and he's past his prime.

A haunting good time

The boys had a good time trick-or-treating last night. Their candy haul was substantial as well, same as every year. We buy a bunch, we take a bunch in, so we're even. I don't know why we don't just buy whatever candy we want, save the money we'd spend on costumes, and put it towards our dental bill (both the two older ones have 2 cavities a piece...and I have a crown that needs replacing). I think it probably has a lot to do with the fact that my little friends enjoy themselves immensely!









Here is our Big Man as King Tut. Earlier this year, he had to do a school report on a historical figure, so I made him this costume for it. He has worn it a number of times, so it's seen better days, but he's proud of it nonetheless. Sewing the pleats in was, um, fun. It was too cold here in October to go without clothing underneath, hence the jeans and t-shirt. Can't miss the Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat-ish Pharaoh headpiece either, which he picked out at the costume shop. A little gold never hurt anyone, and a poseable snake is a must-have for this season! He headed out with a pillowcase, like he does every year, and it was about half full upon his return. If you were wondering, that's around 2 gallon bags stuffed full of candy. He was proud of the fact that a bunch of our neighbors told him what a great costume it was because it was so different than the average pirate or princess. I'm glad they did that- it really made him feel good about himself!

Here is our Little Man, sporting a very stylish Pablo costume, from the Backyardigans on Nickelodeon. We were at Target, looking for costumes, when we came across this one. It was apparent from his reaction that we were unable to leave the store without it, so I shelled out the $25 for it so as to not disappoint him. Didn't want to be mean after all! On Halloween night, he fought and kicked and screamed, refusing to put this wonderful piece of polyester on until he had candy in not one, but both hands. He then happily lay there on the floor while Dad snapped and Velcro'd him into it. BTW, I do have to say thanks to the manufacturer of this costume, as they used Mommy common sense with their design of this. It snaps completely up the front and in the entire leg and crotch area, and the belly area is one large flap that just Velcros over the front to cover the snapped area. Way to go! As any parent knows, as soon as you get the littlest ones into a costume, the diaper must be changed or a potty break must be taken, causing a huge production. Thanks for taking this stresser out of this for us this year!

Now hear comes the mean part...

The DIVA was unable to trick-or-treat this year, due to some recent "issues", some of which you might have read about in previous posts! I am standing my ground with her, and I will not allow her privileges if she cannot and will not tow the line around here. She was most disappointed when she started calling me names and had her candy distribution privileges revoked as well. THAT sent her over the edge and she was REALLY mad then. I heard a few more expletives and dodged a few things she threw at me. I wasn't surprised because she has yet to take responsibility for her own actions for these things, but it still bothers me that even when she's in trouble, she continues to dig the hole deeper. We're working on that.

I'm hoping that showing her perseverance in my not backing down will prove that I won't let her get away with this stuff. I think that she gets it, but I know that she's still fighting for control. What she fails to see is that I look at it this way: right now, she's on the road to her future, but she's still in driver's ed. Mom is still there with her foot on the teacher's brake on the passenger's side, to quash the bad judgement when necessary. Someday soon, I won't be there to do that, and she'll be on here own. Sometimes, she'll even wish she were riding in the backseat...I know I do!

All in all, Halloween was fun for everyone. The Big Man even offered to share his candy with The DIVA, which I thought was very nice of him. Strangely nice, as a matter of fact. I'll be keeping an eye on those two- something might be afoot. *raises one eyebrow, deep in thought*

Who cares?

No one. Why? Mom's sick today.

I spent last evening tossing up my shoes, and that feeling has carried over into today, so I'm feeling extra pleasant. I shouldn't say NO ONE cares, as my dear husband came home from work today to help out with The Little Man, and I thank him for that more than he'll ever know. I hate being sick. The kids seem to have a switch that flips when Mom is sick or tired or hurting in some way, and it makes them act like they were raised like wolves in the deep wilderness. If only they could forage for dinner as if they were!

Like every other mom out there, I still have tasks to complete whilst I am ill. I have my job to do as a mom and as a family traditions consultant, so I have just modified it to fit my needs right now. There are things that can wait- like that planned trip to Home Depot to purchase paint for the living room- and there are things that I can pass off to Dad- the trip to Wal-Mart for prescriptions and new pants for The Little Man- and there are some that I will do anyway- like the online work I have to do for my business. I can do that in spurts, as I need to rest and try to recoup, so that's how it will be done today.

My grandmother (who's been gone for many years- God rest her soul), used to say, in reference to pain or illness..."That's the meanness coming out!" I must really be living up to my title today. Blech! I promise I'll be more interesting tomorrow...I'm too busy being "mean" today.

Who wants to clean the bathroom? I do, I do!

WHAT?! Are you trying to say there isn't a line of people out my front door, clamoring to wipe up urine misses and soap scum from a variety of hard surfaces?

*sighs*

Well, I suppose that leaves me to do it today. I am having an overnight guest, and I'm sure she wants neither to have to look at the toothpaste in the sink or to have to clean it out herself. I love my cousin...she's a lot of fun! She's coming over to sit with The Little Man tonight, while Dad and I go out for dinner. Yes, you read that correctly! An adult meal, with adult conversation. One where all the food will be served to me, where everything on my plate will be my own and not scraped from someone else's because they didn't like it or were full, and it will be HOT. (It better be hot, or I'm sending it back to someone else's kitchen for them to deal with.)


So, my bathroom dilemma sits before me, leering at me with disgust. Now I can clean a bathroom in 10 minutes because I spent some time as a "room attendant" (AKA "housekeeper") at the Budgetel Inn whilst I was a wee girl of 15. Back then, I could do an entire guest room, bath and all, in less than 15 minutes if I wanted too. Don't tell anyone around here that, or else they might expect that kind of service today. Should it slip at any point, they can certainly start paying me $130 a night, and we'll talk. It's not a matter of CAN I do it, it's do I WANT to do it. The answer to that is "NO." I never want to clean a bathroom, especially one that's used primarily by The Big Man and The DIVA, who don't have a care in the world in regards to the condition it's left in when they exit it. Ewww.


I think I will now pass this lovely task on to my eldest son, since he seems to have the biggest problems in there, along with the worst aim. He also has the least amount of chores around here right now, so it's only fair, if we have to talk in those terms. I can't wait to have this little discussion, as I can hear the protests now...


"Why doesn't The DIVA have to do it? She uses it too/is bigger/has more stuff in there than me/makes more mess /spends more time in there!"

"I don't know how to put up towels/clean the tub/sink/toilet!"

"I don't have time to do that with all the other chores I have!" (which currently consist of helping take out garbage and recyclables, changing the cat's water, keeping his own room clean, and helping with laundry)


I'm sure you can see how hard I work him, and how this additional chore could send him over the edge. *feigns a swoon (sort of)* What type of mom would ask their poor child to help out with such a demeaning task, when she's perfectly capable of doing it herself? The kind that has 2 other bathrooms to take care of in the house, along with all those other pesky rooms, and the kind that has repeatedly requested assistance in maintaining some sanity within this particular bathroom in regards to its upkeep, to no avail. This would be the reason why you should do what your mother asks. Something very bad may happen otherwise...you might be stuck cleaning the bathroom! Since he's not here today, I guess I'll do it one last time.

You are getting sleepy, very sleepy

Hypnotism isn't working. The only one getting sleepy around here is me. And I was certainly sleepy before I started watching that stupid medallion!

The Little Man is having a rough go of it lately. He just refuses to deal with this whole sleeping thing. I mean, who are WE to tell him he must take a nap or settle in for the night, anyway? How rude! Even if he'd just lay down and relax for an hour or so in the afternoon, I'd be happy with that at this point. By the time dinner rolls around, he's nearly falling over, he's so exhausted. I don't think I even have to go into how he's a bit on the impossible side emotionally. Like tonight, he kept throwing himself into my lap while I sat on the couch, waiting for dinner to cook. He kept asking for his pillow and covers, which were upstairs in his bed (of course). He's never done that before, but even to the casual observer, he'd had it for the day. We managed to get him to eat dinner, between my plate and Dad's, and after Dad headed out to bowling, The Little Man was falling apart at the seams again. So up the stairs we go, before 7:00, into bed because he's so tired he can barely stand. Within a matter of minutes, he's out like a light.

He doesn't sleep through the night once he's down though. He wakes up a million times, sometimes staying up from 1 AM on! I don't know how he does it. When I miss sleep, I am waiting desperately until I have time to take a nap, then I crash. The Little Man, on the other hand, will do anything possible NOT to sleep. Dad and I keep talking about how we're going to extract that energy and bottle it, then sell it on the Internet to cover our cushy retirement days. Please feel free to leave your name and number so we can contact you once we've perfected the process. I'm expecting that to happen any day now, somewhere between the fighting over naps and blogging until midnight.

I'm no stranger to the "getting the kids to sleep" game. I've tried everything I know and everything our pediatrician and Nurse Ratchet know too. I have come to see that this is just a phase The Little Man must go through, and one I must also endure until he's ready to give up the fight. This is SO unfair to me right now...I might have to pass the meanness torch on sooner than I thought. This is downright cruel, people!

My night watch has turned into insomnia of sorts, as I feel like, if I try to sleep, he'll immediately wake me up. I'm finding myself staying awake until he gets up (usually between 2 and 3 AM), then going to try and get him back down again. I find the Nukkie that's been whipped against the back of the bedroom door- a "Hello?! I'm awake!" of sorts. I change his diaper, in the dark, if he needs it. I get his pillow back in there, as he's thrown it out in protest of sleeping. I'll turn some Wiggles on quietly for him. I'll even take him downstairs, still in the dark, to the rocking chair and rock him. None of this seems to work sometimes.

At the very last resort, at 5 AM, when I've had not a wink of sleep in the past 22 hrs, I'll take him into my bed when I can then begin a silent argument with Dad, who'll toss and turn specifically in protest of our little visitor. I HAVE to get some semblance of sleep, whereas Dad has peacefully slept through much of this dance we do. It really is ok...he has to get up and go to work the next day, and I can at least be at home. However, too many days of not sleeping turns me into a very unpleasant person, so on Sundays, Dad gets to be in charge and it's my day to attempt to catch up on some of that.

Damn. It's only Friday.

PSP stands for...

In most households, it stands for Playstation Portable, either because your kids have one or because they really want one. I mean, who doesn't want to take their incredibly addictive video gaming system with them wherever they go, right?



In MY house, PSP stand for Pretty Severe Punishment, which has been earned by the Really Big Man of the House. That is because my dearest husband, whom I love with ever fiber of my being, went behind my back and bought one of these stupid things for The Big Man. Ok, let me breathe and regroup while I explain things. I do understand his reasoning for wanting to buy it for him…The Big Man completed his study, which took 6 months, and it was hard for him to stick to it, but he did. Dad didn’t buy it for him outright either. The Big Man earned $100 in gift cards from Target for his participation in the study, so he traded those in to Dad to pay for half of the PSP, instead of using them to buy new games for the Xbox or his Gameboy.

So, I suppose I shouldn’t be so hard on Dad for doing what he did, huh? He did a good thing in both senses- he rewarded The Big Man for a job well done, and he also took the opportunity to give a lesson in economics. I’m not mad at him for this, not at all. I just freaked when I saw the bill for all this lovely electronic equipment. It ain’t cheap. I wasn’t expecting the two to leave on Sunday morning and come home 2 hours later, after going to breakfast and…

oh, by the way, we stopped at Best Buy and spent $300.

You did WHAT?!?! Ok, see why I still needed that breather two paragraphs ago?

The Big Man, on the other hand, loves his PSP. He is, as I suspected, completely addicted to it, and it‘s only been a few days. I expected this, so I’m not going to fight it. The rules are as follows: he may not play it until his homework and chores are done, he may not play it unless he asks permission, and he may not play it if he has misbehaved or been disrespectful. I think those are all fair. We keep it in our room, as he has a tendency to play it into the wee hours of the morning if we allow him to have it in his own room. That makes for a very pleasant child the next day! And even sometimes the day after, if we’re really lucky. Star Wars is the center of his universe right now, and I don’t fight that either. Dad loved it when he was a kid too, so they bond over that, and I smile whenever they go on and on about whatever all that stuff is. It’s all Greek to me!

When The Big Man came rushing into my room tonight to get his PSP, he said, “Mom! Dad said I can play for 45 minutes until it’s time to go to bed, ok?” The kids had just come home from Catechism class. I’m sure he prayed he could play it when he got home, and God must have been listening. “Ok,” I said, “but you’ll have to play downstairs because The Little Man is in bed already.” They share a room. “Ok, Mom. Thanks!” He ran out like a madman, PSP in hand. I just shook my head and went back to work on my laptop. I’d never deprive him of such joy, and I really am glad my husband got it for him. I’ll just close my eyes when the credit card bill comes.

The horror of it all!

I am quite ashamed of myself tonight. I spent an entire day without raising my voice, reprimanding my children, or doling out any punishments whatsoever. How can the World's Meanest Mom continue to reign supreme with this kind of behavior on her record?!

On the other hand, it was one of the nicest days I can recall in recent weeks. Someone should record this for posterity. Everyone got along. No one refused to eat their dinner or threw food at the table. Everyone went to bed when asked. Each one of my children behaved impeccably!


The DIVA didn't try to pull any crap and didn't lie once. There were no odd phone calls or fights over clothing or homework.

Hallelujah!

The Big Man came home from school, went to his dentist appointment and his final chocolate milk study appointment with Dad, and I never heard a harsh word. He even asked nicely to play his new PSP, and said "Thank you" when given permission.

It's a miracle!

The Little Man ate 3 meals- breakfast, lunch, AND dinner- without bribery, dancing (mine), or begging (also mine). He actually took a 2-hour nap this afternoon for the first time in more than a month.

Am I in the right house?!

I guess I'm just so used to the chaos that when there's a day of virtual silence, I don't know what to do with myself. I chalk it up to the fact that everyone was separated much of the day. The kids go to separate schools and arrive home at different times on Mondays. The Big Man had appointments this afternoon, so he was gone, and The DIVA was here without him to fight with. She also didn't have to play with The Little Man either because he was napping much of the time. When we all came together, the switch was made, and The DIVA went with DAD for the evening to the bowling alley. The boys stayed home with me, and they got along fine. They had McDonald's for dinner, and who doesn't like that, right?! (I don't, but I suck it up for the rest of the troops.) Bedtime came, and there was still no bloodshed. I am hoping (read: praying) for a repeat tomorrow.

I am now quietly settling in for the night, having low blood pressure and not being on the verge of an aneurysm tonight. It's kinda nice! I know that this kind of day is few and far between, but I am shooting for more of them. The kids just get themselves so riled up, whether it's something that carries over from school, or their awful Mean Mom here at home forcing slave labor on them (homework, cleaning their rooms, or maybe setting the table for dinner?), they just blow a gasket and go haywire every day. I wish I could foresee the meltdown, but it seems to happen before I can head it off. I try to be as observant as I can, in the hopes that I can pick up on it beforehand, but so far I haven't had any luck. I'll keep trying though, either out of perseverance or sheer madness!

Goodnight, all! I'm headed off to cuddle into my Sleep Number Bed. BTW, I'm a 35.

It's 5:00 Somewhere

The phone rings this evening. On the other end, a small, cracking voice says (after a bit of hesitation) "Is The DIVA there?" I was forced to tell him she was indisposed at the moment, as she was in the shower at the time. "May I take a message for her?", I politely asked him. He hesitated again, then said, "Yeah, this is Ryan. Just tell her that 5:00 is just fine." I paused a moment myself, then answered back, "Ok, I will let her know as soon as she gets out." We both said our goodbye's and hung up.

Attack mode sprung up immediately. I have a serious issue with her planning things behind my back, especially when young men are involved. I tried my very best to be civil, as I didn't want to make a screaming "You are not going to be a pregnant 13-year-old!" scene. I have known for a while that she'd been hiding a boyfriend. I even knew his name was Ryan, where they met and who his family was. Being the "cool" mom, I didn't interfere because I didn't feel that I needed to. The DIVA isn't permitted to do many things her friends can do, such as hang out at the mall with her friends or go out anywhere after dark without an adult. I'm the World's Meanest Mom, remember? I didn't get this title by allowing her to run amok. I have given her just enough leash for me to know what she's up to, and I've been able to trust the judgement that she's shown so far. I do firmly believe in the "give them an inch, they'll take a mile" phrase, so I have paid attention to what she does with the inches allowed her, and I dole out more as I see fit. Ryan has now become a new test for us both.

After The DIVA completed her spa treatments, I told her we needed a few words with her. Dad just sat there next to me, as I'd filled him in on the phone call earlier so we were on the same page. He clearly wanted no part in this, and if he'd have had one, he'd have put on his combat helmet.

I take a deep breath and say to my only daughter, "So, where are you supposed to be at 5:00?" She got a blank stare on her face- the same one she gets when she's about to come up with an elaborate lie. I said, "Don't bother, just answer the question."

"At Park Towne," which is the bowling alley. She has plans to go there with The Big Man and their grandmother for an outing next weekend, NOT with her boyfriend. These plans were made months ago, when Grandma asked the two older kids to go to the Halloween bowling party, then to spend the night with her and Grandpa...she is a brave soul, and I wish her luck.

"Then why did Ryan call here, saying that '5:00 would be just fine'?" I can feel my blood boiling, but at least she's attempting to stick more towards the truth side.

"I asked him and some other people to meet me there, so we could hang out together." She now starts to fidget on the stairs, knowing she's in for it now.

"You have no business planning to meet up with your little boyfriend while you're supposed to be spending time with your grandma." I told her, under no circumstances, would he be welcome to join the trio either. I will be informing my mother-in-law of this as well.

"Why?! I didn't do anything," she said, which really got me going.

"Did you, or did you not, tell Ryan to meet you at the bowling alley?"

"Well, yeah, him and some other people," she says, "but I was going to be there anyway. What's the big deal?"

"So, then you DID plan all of this behind our backs?"

"Well, yeah, I guess so," she sulks.

"So, then why do you think we might possibly be upset with you?" I always have to ask the obvious questions with The DIVA because she doesn't always seem to see the connection between what she did and why it wasn't the smartest move.

"I don't know." This is, by far, my most favorite answer in the whole wide world. If you want me to go completely insane at the drop of a hat, please give me this answer to whatever question I'm asking.

After a deep breath, I say to my darling child, "DIVA, if you even get to go on this outing, you will not be meeting up with Ryan or anyone else. I'm not even going to talk to you about this anymore, as there's nothing more to say. Go get ready for bed."

I am really tired of having to go through the undercover op's with her. It never fails. She pulled it on me yesterday too, by telling her friend our family would attend a party, when she knew full-well we would not be going. She figured that if she RSVP'd that we'd attend, we'd be committed, and I'd have to take her. Um, no. After a knock-down, drag-out fight over that one, I made her call the friend and apologize for that little stunt, after which she was quite mortified. I told her, "You would have saved yourself much embarrassment by not doing this in the first place. You will have to learn the hard way on this sort of thing." This type of manipulation no longer works on me. It did for a while, as I would cave and take her if she RSVP'd to a party because I wouldn't want to disappoint her little friends, but no more. She will now have to rescind her invitation to her boyfriend and whoever else she invited on this outing, as they are not welcome, and I'm sure she'll feel some embarrassment. I'm sorry about that. She knows better, but she just keeps doing the same thing.

My mom has a joke she tells...
A guy goes into his doctor's office, wagging his arm up and down. He says to the doctor, "Doc, my arm hurts when I do this." The doctor says, "Well, if it hurts when you go like that, then don't go like that!"

Maybe The DIVA shouldn't go like that.

Mom, you just killed me!

The Big Man is having an off day today. It did start out on a good note, with a desperate plea for Xbox privileges in exchange for what he dubbed "perfect behavior." He knows that I'm still recuperating and need some help with the Little Man while Dad works and The DIVA is gone today, but he doesn't exactly look forward to giving me any. I asked very little of him in this department, other than to play with the Little Man while I made lunch for everyone. A very dramatic scene ensued, so let's start from the top...

The Big Man's pride and joy in life right now is the XBox. He could play Star Wars games on there for days at a time if we let him. Behavior dictates whether or not he gets to play at all, hence the begging earlier in the day. Once Dad comes in and joins him, there's no peeling them away until one has to pee or eat. What is that about men and their video games?! And these two haven't even discovered the joys of XBox Live (thank God). We'll just pretend I didn't say it and hope they don't ever read this, otherwise they may never leave the stupid thing again- other than those ever-important treks to the kitchen and bathroom, of course.

Today's XBox gaming session was about an hour and a half in when I requested his assistance with the Little Man. He literally threw himself down on the couch in a faint, and he refused to budge or even speak to me. I repeated my request, as I really needed to get lunch made without the baby running around the kitchen island. The lump on my furniture didn't twitch. The last chance had arrived, after which I told him he needed to turn off The Precious. He immediately jumped up and started yelling about how much he hates me and he always has to do everything around here and he never gets to do anything he wants to do and I always make him watch the Little Man and...and...and...

While the yelling commenced, I ignored it and continued gathering my ingredients in the kitchen. When the water was boiling on the stove, I calmly walked over and opened the baby gate into the living room. I went over and turned both the TV and the XBox off. It was the shriek heard 'round the world: "Mom, you just killed me!" I didn't bat an eyelash as I turned around and walked back through the gate into the kitchen, returning to my place in front of the stove, to watch the water hurry up and boil.

A number of parents would have just let him go ahead and play XBox after the first sign of indignation, rather than deal with the pouting and guilt trips. After all, it was Saturday, and at his age, The Big Man shouldn't have to look after his younger brother, right? Wrong. As a member of a family, you help one another, especially if the one who requires your help is ailing in some way. There's no reason under the sun to cause such a ruckus over a few minutes spent entertaining your little brother while your mom makes your lunch. You just don't act that way!

In the board room, if your company's CEO asks you to check over the work of the new guy, you don't yell in his face, throw yourself down on the table and refuse to move until you get your way, do you? Of course not! (I've heard rumor of that type of behavior in the early 80's but that was for an entirely different reason.) Overreacting is yet another one of those traits I intend to curb long before anyone here is ready to star in the the board room.

So, the moral of today's story is...15 minutes of playing Lego's with your younger sibling will definitely not kill you, but NOT doing it might!

Meow!

"Mommy? Can I get another kitty?


"No, we've been over this before. We are only having one cat, and that's Sweet Pea."


"But Mom, Sweet Pea is lonely all day when I'm gone at school. She never even had any babies of her own, so if we got a kitten, she could be a mommy then!"


"Sweet Pea is definitely not lonely all day because both Little Man and me are here for her to play with when you are not. I'm sure she's very happy happy she didn't have to have a hundred kittens either, and she quietly thanks me for it every day. "



"MO-OM! She does NOT! I can barely even pick her up anymore, she's so big. I need to have a kitten so that I can pick her up and love her."



"So you can't love Sweet Pea because she's too big for you to pick her up now? DIVA, we are only having one cat, and that' s final. Please don't ask me again. By the way, did you clean out her box today?"



"You're so mean! I HATE YOU! *door slams* The Golden Kitty is left to sit in the hallway, alone, too big and unloved.





Normally, I'd just sweep this under the feelings rug with all the other times my children have "hated" me. I am used to being the Mean Mom who never gives them anything they want. No big whoop! This time is different because...I WANT ANOTHER PET TOO! (Sniff, sniff.) I have wanted a puppy for ages, but don't you dare tell anyone or I'll never be able to live it down!


Why don't I get my children another pet? Practicality, my dear friends. I don't want to bring another animal into this humble abode if we are unable to care for it the way I feel it should be cared for. Our schedules are becoming so very hectic, I just don't think a new "baby" would get enough time and love to be able to transition comfortably into our family. I don't even want to think about how the Queen of Sheeba (seen above, patiently waiting for a treat) will react to her 6 years of being the only kitty being disturbed. That's another plank I refuse to walk.


I have a friend who has been unable to say "No" to her children in the pet department. This is why they are a family of 6, living in a suburban ranch home, with 4 dogs, 3 cats (one of whom is preggers, again), a mess of gerbils and guinea pigs, and an aquarium full of fish. She constantly complains about the pets, and how she gets stuck taking care of them all the time. So I said to my friend, "How did it get like this?" She said, "I just couldn't tell them no. They'd be so upset with me." Herein lies the problem.


Does anyone remember First Lady Nancy Reagan, and her Just Say No campaign against drugs? I think we should apply this in our everyday lives as it pertains to our kids these days. Sure, it went great with the drugs then, but it should go with everything now.


"Mom, I want a new kitty. She's so cute and sweet, I just have to have her!"
"No! She may be cute, but there's no room in the inn, honey."


"Mom, I need an IPod. My CD player is stupid and lame."
"No! I don't even have an IPod, and I'm more than twice your age. THAT is lame!"


"Mom, I have to get some new Abercrombie/Diesel/Gap/Limited Too/Express/whatever-the-latest-brandname jeans or I'll just die!"
"No! I'll call the undertaker. You'll have to be buried in your old jeans."


You know what? I really want that puppy now. I'm so mean! I HATE ME! HRMPH! SLAM! *door shudders*

It's a Wiggly World

The Little Man is a rabid fan of The Wiggles. He loves everything about them. It made no difference to him that Greg had to retire and was replaced by Sam. He has a personalized CD that he listens to as he drifts off to sleep, which sings his name in each song. The TV show only plays on Disney Channel at 6AM, so I really enjoy that. It was only natural that his birthday party theme this year was The Wiggles. As part of his birthday present, I opted to take my Little Man to the Wiggles concert, when these 4 very rich, very colorful gentlemen came to our city. These tickets are hard to come by, some going for hundreds of dollars on eBay after the concerts sell out, since The Wiggles concerts are limited engagements here in the US. I was smart and got mine 2 minutes after they went on sale at Ticketmaster...for $93, after all the fees and such.



Now, some of you will say, smart? Was $93 for 2 tickets for one adult and an almost-2-year-old child a smart purchase?! To you, I say, YES! This was one of the smartest purchases I've ever made. My son was the happiest little boy I've ever seen at this concert. He was rockin' along with his favorite band, like you or I would to our faves, and I had tears of happiness in my own eyes. I sang along too, since I hear the tunes daily and know all the words myself. We had the most wonderful time. I don't know why anyone wouldn't want to give their child such pleasure if they had the means. Granted, it was very pricey, but in the end, it was worth every penny to me.









Now how does this relate to upholding my title? Ask The DIVA and The Big Man. All hell broke loose when they heard The Little Man and I were going to this concert. They couldn't fathom why I would take him and not them. I said, "Ok, I'll get 2 more tickets, and you can go with us!" A resounding "NO!" was heard across the land, as they wouldn't be caught dead at a baby concert like The Wiggles, duh! OoooooK, well then, what exactly is it that I should do in a situation like this? It's SO obvious that I'm playing favorites here. I planned to short The DIVA by purposely depriving her of a concert at age 2, of a band from Australia that I didn't know existed. I also shorted The Big Man by being oblivious of same said band, which makes me a twice-horrible person.



In today's world, many parents would try desperately to reason with these two and find other concerts to make up for this awful parental shortcoming. Not me. I sat them both down, separately, and simply explained that this wasn't a favoritism issue. The opportunity wasn't there before, it was now for The Little Man, so it was taken. There are many more times in life where each would get to do things the other two wouldn't get to, so relax and please find a way to get over it. End of story. Some might see me as hard, but I'm only trying to be a good parent and prepare my kids for the real world. In your job, when someone else gets a promotion and you don't, if you complain about it, your boss doesn't come up with a new position for you to make you happy. That's just not how it works! This kind of parenting approach- smoothing things over so their kids aren't mad at them- really makes me wonder what our next generation of leaders will be like.


On a positive note, the actual party went very well. There was lots of wiggling, of course, and The Little Man was quite content. His brother and sister had no residual effects from their lack of a both a Wiggles concert experience (however, I'm still recovering) and a Wiggly birthday party themselves. I believe both a pirate party and a slumber American Idol party are now on the horizon. Wish me luck!