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.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Saturday, October 27, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, October 26, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, October 22, 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
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!
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!
Friday, October 19, 2007
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*
"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*
Thursday, October 18, 2007
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!
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!
Long Time, No Blog
Ok, so I opened my blog nearly 2 months ago, with the high hopes that I'd be able to write something at least a few times a week. I guess I've been spending all my time being the Wicked Stepmother from Cinderella and have been unable to complete my own tasks during this time. Well, that stops now! I will hereby stop putting forced child labor (such as picking up one's room or scraping one's dinner plate into the trash before putting it into the sink) before my own pursuits (like taking a shower at least every other day or writing out my thoughts and feelings for strangers to read on the Internet) and will use my time more wisely.
Yesterday was a bad day, but I suppose that depends on who you were...
If you were the Big Man, you were more than happy, since you got to get out of your chores by driving your mother to the brink of insanity. I have nearly given up on him, and if you have an 8-year-old boy, you can relate to the fact that you may or may not be planning a 9th birthday party. He's at that age where he's wanting to assert himself more, which is fine, but he's REALLY pushing it. I give up after the first hour of arguing, as his heels have developed a thick layer of cement and dig far into the netherworlds, below the magma, near the center of the earth. Just wait 'til your father gets home!
If you were the DIVA, you were quite disgusted, as you were asked to help with the Little Man, as your mother was totally exhausted and needed your assistance. I know...God forbid you should have to HELP OUT when there's things to do like call your potential boyfriends and pick out your outfit for tomorrow. You see?! The label really does suit me nicely. What kind of a mom asks her nearly-teen daughter for help when such pressing matters exist?!
I was having a bad day, a bad week actually. I had surgery last Wednesday, for a Mommy matter, and I have just been unable to feel better yet due to lack of rest. Imagine that, if you can. I recall the last few seasons of "Nip/Tuck", where Drs. McNamara and Troy sent their patients to recover in luxury after their various nose jobs and breast enhancements. If only there were a Mom Recovery Wing in our local hospital, where you'd say goodbye to your family after your procedure and be whisked away to private recovery rooms that were loaded with the works- fluffy robes and slippers, a variety of herbal teas and fresh-baked cookies at your bedside, CURRENT magazines on appropriate topics (no Men's Health or Sports Illustrated, thanks), a cuddly king bed with tons of pillows, and the darkest shades for the best night's sleep you'll get until you reside in a casket. Or have another procedure done. I have now decided what I will do with my vast fortune when I am gone...
And if you were the Little Man, life was good, as usual! He hasn't a care in the world, as he's usually catered to by most everyone around him, on the verge of spoiling really. I try not to, but being the youngest does have its perks. He got a new movie, "Over the Hedge", which he must watch over and over and over and over and over. The "turtle movie" has surpassed Shrek, Spongebob, and Tarzan this week. And yes, my 2-year-old does watch TV- so what?! He has the mental capacity to sit and behave himself to actually make it through an hour and a half film, which surprises me, but it's never a babysitter here since I'm right there with him. He also is working on his alphabet and already knows his numbers to 10, although he mixes them up from time to time. Pretty good for a kid who watches the dreaded TV!
When I fell into bed last night and pulled out the old laptop, I realized how lax I had been here. I will not let it happen again. My real hope for this is that people can come here and read my follies, have a laugh or ten, and see that you can stick to your principles and still raise some great kids. I won't bow to society's latest "norms" when it comes to these little ones. I still have some control, although it seems a bit wavering at times, but I don't see it as power over my kids. That being said, even though I am open and honest with them, I will always be their parent before their friend. They have plenty of those, but only one Mom.
Even if she's the World's Meanest Mom.
Yesterday was a bad day, but I suppose that depends on who you were...
If you were the Big Man, you were more than happy, since you got to get out of your chores by driving your mother to the brink of insanity. I have nearly given up on him, and if you have an 8-year-old boy, you can relate to the fact that you may or may not be planning a 9th birthday party. He's at that age where he's wanting to assert himself more, which is fine, but he's REALLY pushing it. I give up after the first hour of arguing, as his heels have developed a thick layer of cement and dig far into the netherworlds, below the magma, near the center of the earth. Just wait 'til your father gets home!
If you were the DIVA, you were quite disgusted, as you were asked to help with the Little Man, as your mother was totally exhausted and needed your assistance. I know...God forbid you should have to HELP OUT when there's things to do like call your potential boyfriends and pick out your outfit for tomorrow. You see?! The label really does suit me nicely. What kind of a mom asks her nearly-teen daughter for help when such pressing matters exist?!
I was having a bad day, a bad week actually. I had surgery last Wednesday, for a Mommy matter, and I have just been unable to feel better yet due to lack of rest. Imagine that, if you can. I recall the last few seasons of "Nip/Tuck", where Drs. McNamara and Troy sent their patients to recover in luxury after their various nose jobs and breast enhancements. If only there were a Mom Recovery Wing in our local hospital, where you'd say goodbye to your family after your procedure and be whisked away to private recovery rooms that were loaded with the works- fluffy robes and slippers, a variety of herbal teas and fresh-baked cookies at your bedside, CURRENT magazines on appropriate topics (no Men's Health or Sports Illustrated, thanks), a cuddly king bed with tons of pillows, and the darkest shades for the best night's sleep you'll get until you reside in a casket. Or have another procedure done. I have now decided what I will do with my vast fortune when I am gone...
And if you were the Little Man, life was good, as usual! He hasn't a care in the world, as he's usually catered to by most everyone around him, on the verge of spoiling really. I try not to, but being the youngest does have its perks. He got a new movie, "Over the Hedge", which he must watch over and over and over and over and over. The "turtle movie" has surpassed Shrek, Spongebob, and Tarzan this week. And yes, my 2-year-old does watch TV- so what?! He has the mental capacity to sit and behave himself to actually make it through an hour and a half film, which surprises me, but it's never a babysitter here since I'm right there with him. He also is working on his alphabet and already knows his numbers to 10, although he mixes them up from time to time. Pretty good for a kid who watches the dreaded TV!
When I fell into bed last night and pulled out the old laptop, I realized how lax I had been here. I will not let it happen again. My real hope for this is that people can come here and read my follies, have a laugh or ten, and see that you can stick to your principles and still raise some great kids. I won't bow to society's latest "norms" when it comes to these little ones. I still have some control, although it seems a bit wavering at times, but I don't see it as power over my kids. That being said, even though I am open and honest with them, I will always be their parent before their friend. They have plenty of those, but only one Mom.
Even if she's the World's Meanest Mom.
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