Saturday, February 28, 2009
No worries for sure, it all went fine and the wango tango did not pay a visit to the party.
I have told her things like this before. Things that most kids do, things most kids don't do. Often she has to be told. She was never in a position to learn how other kids are by being around other kids who are regular. Her developmental process went wonky the day after she was born and stayed that way. It isn't her fault, we just have to remember she never had the chance to learn by example.
Anyway, yesterday after school, she invited her friend over to play. It was a big milestone for her. Everything went well, the kid stayed about a half hour and went home. Later last night, I was talking with Genea about it and I mentioned how her friend sounded so surprised that there were diapers in their room. Genea has worn pull ups or diapers at night her whole life. In difficult times (ie, wango tango weeks/ months) she has had to wear them for naps. We have had issues with her trying to keep them on all day. She wants to wear them, damp, wet, dripping, she wants one on. I try to rarely mention the pull up situation, but I have told her that most kids her age don't wear them anymore. Our discount stores only stock up to 5t and she is about out of that size and I have told her that too. I told her, if she wanted to she could tell her friend that the pull ups belong to her sister, since that is true, and just not mention that she wears them since it could be embarrassing. Some things are private in our family and no one else has to know etc.
Last night she decided to go to bed without a pull up on. She just came up with it as she was getting ready for bed and told me she wanted to try. I did a quick mental scan and I figured we had enough clean sheets that we could spare a set when she wet the bed in the night. We have tried to make it many times before without success. I had realistic hopes (ie, a shred, just one shred not two, of hope).
She did it. She stayed dry. All night.
The power of social status is that strong.
But what is really scary is the power of this child's will.
Friday, February 27, 2009
I cannot believe I have children like this. I could sleep the rest of my life! I love to sleep and always have. Even as a kid. Seriously this is payback for something I did to my parents. Take your pick, the list is long.
Anyway, The Husband and I had gone through every possible consequence for her and nothing worked for more than a week. We let her watch tv. We set up doll parties for her. Books in bed. Get up and play in your room. Get up and play in the living room. Get up and watch a movie. Eat.
Finally after a year of this, we decided to drop a ton of pull ups on Genea. Over a year of everyone in this house being disturbed every morning and unable to get adequate sleep, well it made us kind of cranky. The thing that got us sleep was the consequence of spending the day in her room on restriction for a full day of boredom therapy. Oh precious rest, it had done the trick for about 6 months and she only relapsed a few weeks ago. I posted on the ordeal as she was firing back up, and mostly people agreed with the strategy or offered supportive words. One person had a different idea and commented ...
"Is she after control, or attention or is she really scared and upset and frightened to be awake when everyone else is asleep? I'd try and figure that out, I guess. I was always fearful to be the only one awake".
Well folks you don't have to hit ME over the head with a sour sippy cup(anymore than 200 or so times). Even though I thought we had exhausted all of the 'kinder' sorts of ways to handle these early morning calls, that comment stuck in my head.
Fast forward to Beyond Consequences seminar, where the foundation of the paradigm is that all behavior originates as either love or fear. Again, no hurry, just knock me over with a diaper champ and stuff 2 pacifiers in my ears. La la la. So you take a behavior as an example and break it down until it either lands on one side or the other, love or fear. Then you can figure out the motivation and build back up from that perspective. Well anyway, that is my assessment of the process.
So what kind of enormous jackassed buttheaded parents does this poor kid have?
SHE IS SCARED
SHE HATES TO BE ALONE
SHE WAKES UP IN THE NIGHT AND THE HOUSE IS DARK AND QUIET AND SHE THINKS WE LEFT HER
WHAT THE HELL ELSE WOULD SHE BE THINKING
SHE JUST CANNOT HELP IT SOMETIMES SHE HAS TO REASSURE HERSELF WE ARE ALL STILL WITH HER
Oh man. Sigh. Heavy sigh.
So how do we make her feel more safe and secure. We talked with her, and empathized and asked her opinions and validated her fears. We are going to try something a little weird. When she wakes up and if she feels scared she is going to get up and come in my room and look at us so she will know we are still there. I don't know if it will work. It's a bit strange. And I am still using the boredom treatment until I find another thing that works better if she wakes us up. I am not beating myself up about it either. We have had such an unbelieveable excess of chaos to work through, well, if a few things went left at the ditch, it could have been worse.
So, to change the subject, I didn't see any famous people in Los Angeles. I don't know how I managed to pull that off since there seems to be a billion of 'em that multiply like wire closet hangers, especially with the Academy Awards going on. Now, I invited George Clooney and Brad Pitt over for an after hours party. I had decided that I would be willing to delay my sleep for both since they are both on my List of 5*. Since I was in the area and all. Sad to say, I was devastated neither of them showed. Jerks. They never even called!
*List of 5 is list of the 5 famous people you could ahem, pause, your marriage for if the opportunity were to present itself. It is from a sitcom called '' Friends''.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
I SLEPT. On my trip to California in my nice quiet little hotel room. I turned off phones, put 'quiet' on my door, and I slept. I slept until.... get ready..... 12:45. Basically midnight to 1 pm the next day. 13 hours. It was lovely. And ya know, I could have kept sleeping. I woke once around 6:30 and went back to sleep of course. Then I dozed in and out starting around 11. I could have kept going until the 4th of July really. Sleep, aaaaaahhhhh. Beautiful. Just beautiful.
The Bad. After my 900 hour flight sitting in a wedge the size of a pencil, The Husband and the girls came to pick me up and right away, I mean within minutes, Genea regressed dramatically. So, I expected that would happen and it wasn't that big a problem seriously, I just really hate to see it. She dissociated and was doing all kinds of weird things trying to crank up our reactions. The good news is it is fairly minor so far, I hope she is done quickly. The other bad is, Teena is sick again. I don't know what the hell is going on here, I really don't. We have some sort of death plague cloud over our house. Puked 4 times today. But, good news again I think that is over with. And if it isn't, well, I am done. I will quit this suck ass job. And I am not giving 2 weeks or any other notice. Good luck finding my replacement.
And, the ugly. The Husband crashed his car today and took out 2 others. His is totalled. Everyone seems ok so far. The good on this one is he had taken it in for repairs a few months ago and the mechanics said we could spend several thousand dollars fixing it up, or we could patch it together and wait for it to die on its own. Either way would be the same, it had over 120,000 miles on it and we decided to leave it have a dignified end of life. It went out with a bang (boo, bad pun boo) instead. Anyway, so now he has to use my car. Which I don't use much these days what with all the staying at home momming. But rest assured I will suddenly have a bunch of places to go.
I have some fun stories from my trip and I will spread them out over the next few days. I have a lot to catch up on too!
The Husband did ok with the kids. He was not layed out in the snow in front of our closest Catholic church begging for an exorcism as I had hoped. He said they were normal, so that had to suck. But he is not giving up any more information. I suspect he has been reading, as someone asked. Yep, he knows my blog and checks in here and there. Believe it or not, I am this charming in person too, (JK!)and have verbalized everything I have written. They cleaned the bathroom but ran out of everything. Toilet paper, milk, food, and forgot the damn garbage so the house stank like a rotten orange. Not pretty. And the girls aren't talking either, not giving it up on their Daddy. They ate out a lot, which is certainly a luxurious way to spend a weekend!
Anyway, more later! I have re- entered this post twice, er 3 times, now, I gotta go!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
I brought a basic crochet book with me and tried it out. Soon as you can read that sentence I was hooking away!
I have been a rabid knitter for a few years now. I taught myself when I was pregnant. I learned to crochet as a kid but never took it up. I noticed some crochet-ers recently blogging and got inspired to try it.
So there you have it. Bi- Craftual.
I will have much more interesting stuff to post on (IMO that is) the next few days.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Don't Cry For Me Argentina, the truth is I never left you, all through my wild days, my mad existence.
Genea has bronchitis. She woke up this morning and could not go to school. She had to go to the Dr., I thought it was strep again, but no. On zithromax.
We had hamburger helper for dinner. The stroganoff kind. I finished and went in to my room to pack, and I hear The Husband yelling from the kitchen.." help!!! we need help!!!! it's an emergency!!!". Sure enough. A glass of milk, a serving of hamburger helper, and some zithromax had declined the ambiance in Genea's tummy, and left the premises. Vacated the property and took up residence everywhere else. This was a LOT of puke. And it staaaank. NOT one drop was caught in any kind of container. Not a drop. On her in a big soggy chunky puddle, on the chair in between the cushion and the frame, on her place mat, on the tablecloth, on the floor which is parquet wood with lots of channels for stuff to get stuck in.
Nothing like reinforcing Mama's need for a BIG HUGE BREAK!!! Oh my UNholy HELL!
I have a whole loaded iPod, with all the http://www.manicmommies.com/ episodes that I have missed recently. And my other favorite, * Gay Pimpin' with Johnny McGovern http://www.gaypimp.com/ that I never get to listen to anymore because each episode is 2-3 hours long (2-3 hours longer than I have to sit and listen) but freaking hysterical. I miss diversity here in Wonder-bread- land. I miss going to clubs cuz I am ahem, of other ages. So I have like 20 hours of podcasts to catch up on and I think it will take each stinking hour to counter today.
And, to top it all off, I can no longer call myself Mother Warrior of Puke, I must demote myself to Mother Scrubber of Puke. Sigh. Airplane, take me away!!!!
*note that particular podcast is graphic and explicit.
The Husbands favorite phrase is this: It's no big deal. It's no big deal to be alone all weekend with a baby. It's no big deal to travel for work. It's no big deal to have to do everything by yourself. It's no big deal to go someplace by yourself. Uh huh, yes he did. And a year and a half ago when child number 2 walked through the door, he committed the offenses again. And yet with all that confidence he has, he has never spent one entire day with the kids by himself.
And I have a long memory.
Heh Heh heh.
I finally have somewhere to go. For 4 days.
Heh heh heh.
So this weekend, I am going *gasp* off the grid and traveling myself to California to attend a Beyond Consequences seminar. The Husband will have the girls all to himself the whole weekend. Heh heh heh.
I have not done anything extra to set them up for the weekend. I did not do extra shopping. I did not pre-cook meals. I did not list out activities they could do. The Husband is not a total idiot and will be able to care well for the girls.
But it would be a lie if I said I hope it all goes great. Secretly, I hope they nail him to the wall. He has a big fat mouth and I have been waiting for a chance to let him learn by experience, exactly how draining these kids can be. And, how stressful it is when you are the only one and no one is coming to help you. And how jumbled your brain gets when you realize you have only been up for 2 hours and it feels like the day should be almost over already.
Secretly I hope they are demanding and self centered. I hope they whine and get on each others nerves.
Secretly, I hope to find him laying flat on his face in front of the nearest Catholic church, begging someone to call the Vatican about Damiens twin sisters. To schedule an exorcism.
If Teena pee's on her undies 3 times in one day and runs out of clean undies, well, they will just have to do laundry. I have not prepared their clothing for them. And, I haven't done laundry this week so things are running low. There is enough if you know what you are doing. Secretly, I hope they run out and he has to dig through the basket to pull out their nasty pee clothes and wash them.
So the secret is, I want the girls to act the way they normally do. no better, no worse. Their average. Heh heh heh. I want The Husband to have this experience in all its glory. I will leave out the phone book open to the churches page.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
I am going to California for the weekend to a Beyond Consequences seminar. I can NOT decide if I should take my laptop or not and it is making me bonkers!
If I take it, I am not checking any bags and so will have to lug it around and out at the airport and it will take up a lot of room. Plus it is heavy and I will have to go buy a new cord because the one I have is rigged together.
But, I could definitely use it in an unfamiliar city! Where to go, delivery food places, directions, etc. What else would I do, read the phone book? Like some episode of Little House on the Prairie?
My hotel has wireless, but they charge for it. Who does that anymore! Are you serious there is a charge?
See, but here is the biggest problem that I can project ahead of time will be an issue for me. I am going to this here little seminar on Saturday, but other than that, I intend to force all things child from my brain. No little girls. No adoption stuff. No attachment stuff. No research. And, this is the worst and hardest for me.....No Blogs!!!!
I need a break in the worst way. Everyone does. People are struggling on most of the blogs I read. It is a crappy time of year, and must be rough on the kids as well because a lot of them are acting out. But I have gotten very fond of my blog. I check it through, well I am not going to say how many times a day. Just a lot. I think in blog. At the grocery store or whatever, hmm, this is a great idea for a post.
So if I have my laptop, will I have the strength to tear myself away? I expect to have a full day of nothing to do. I am sooooo looking forward to that day! I will want to check in on blogs. I will want to comment. And then, I will want to read backgrounds and early posts on the new blogs I have come across or who have come across me. I won't be able to stop. And then I will have spent my nothing day immersed in kids and adoptions and attachments..... !!!
See? Slippery slope and all that.
Not exactly a life altering decision, not even at the level of should I change my hair decision.
Arghgaala! Can't decide.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Of course, I was the only mom who stayed. There was the mom of the birthday girl, and a friend of the moms', who was the owner of the single attending boy and had obviously been trapped into helping out. It surprised me, how everyone got there exactly on time and left the same way. On. The. Dot. In fact, most of the other parents kicked their kids out of the car and ran away fast. A few never even slowed down. Just bzzzzzzzzzz by, opened the minivan side door and the girl jumped out and rolled into a summer- sault up to the house with the minivan going 25 miles an hour. It was suggested on the invitation that the girls dress as a fairy or a princess, so Genea dressed as a fairy princess. And if I do say, she was the prettiest one with the best hair and costume. Too bad the Oscar Committee was unavailable.
How I wished to be one of those parents, who could rip past the house, toss their kid out, and leave. I imagine them going back to their houses and taking a nap. Or reading a book. Or just relaxing, resting, listening to the quiet. Was I jealous? Put it this way, I have always looked good in green. Just call me Elphaba. No, I understood ahead of time. I knew, even when we adopted Genea, that milestones for all kids would come and go, and that as her mom, I would be responsible for a big extra chunk of decision making. There will always be events like this, that as her parents we will have to think through another level of precaution and planning. It is just different. When Teena goes to her first party, she will probably arrange a taxi to do her transportation and we will never even know what happened.
Fact is, all those other parents probably went home to do laundry. Or dishes, or pay bills. Or clean litter boxes, and take care of the other kids they have. This is what I am telling myself. The grass is always greener for sure.
So it was a good party. Like I said, I stayed the whole time. I had let Genea know ahead of time that if she was comfortable and okay with it, I would leave and go back for her at the end. Within the first 3 minutes in the house, I knew that would not be happening. Nope. None of the other parents even walked in past the door mat. And frankly, a few of them probably should have stayed with their kids (the girl popping herself on the head for attention comes to mind). Of course, everyone knew each other. It is a strange place I live in. It is a medium- small city, but everyone seems to know everyone anyway. Like they all went to school together or something. Not a lot of people move to here, and not as many as I would think move away. So people know each other for decades. I mean, not me, the other people.
It's a cute thing about kids this age, 5 and 6, that mom's are interchangeable. You are either, mom to that kid, or you are in the Mom Pool. And members of the Mom Pool can be approached at any time with a problem. Bow on your costume came undone? Mom Pool. Spilled your drink? Alert the Mom Pool. Don't want to throw away your own garbage you little shit? Hand it over to the Mom Pool! I will probably crack my image a bit here, but I think it is sweet. A whole little group of short people who think I can help them maneuver through anything. Just cuz I own 2 of them myself (huh, if they only knew)!
They had pizza for lunch, with chips and soda- cranked up the sugar load early on and dosed the kids with some good old fashioned semi-toxic food dyes and crap. I helped out, with everything, while also trying to hang back quietly. This was a really funny moment, their dog was whining and the mom said it was the dog pretending she was sad behind the gate. I said, hmmm, sounds like a fake cry to me, who else has a fake cry. I swear, 5 of the girls raised their hands and started doing it. Very interesting! They went on to talk about it, how they do it and why/ when, who falls for it. Genea had to sense to keep it zipped for that little conversation!
So, I was never offered anything. To eat, to drink, to snack. I just stood there, wasting away, helping all the kids and picking up garbage for them. When plates were handed out, I was skipped. At first I thought it was because they might not have enough. But, they did. Same with the soda. Nothing. But, the most heinous of the social protocols to be ungraciously ignored was the cake. I am a fiend for frosting, especially butter cream frosting. That's what it looked like on the cake, a monstrous dedication to the newest chick to spend your money on- Tinkerbell -and butter- cream frosting. It was chocolate cupcakes with a frosting shelf built over them. Never even offered. Seriously. Everyone else was specifically handed a plate. Oh, and there were plenty of cupcakes left too. Sure I could have asked, or just taken, but I just wasn't feeling it. Really, you do nothing but promote a stereotype when you hog all the cake! (Here in Wisconsin folks are known for being, well, sturdy. No wind gonna come knock down any residents in this state). So I don't know what was up with that. I hate using the phone so I had The Husband call and RSVP us. I made him ask if parents were able to stay if needed, and she told him parents could stay if they wanted to but she wasn't expecting that people stay. So she knew it was a possibility. Now this is just occurring to me, party mom might have thought it was weird that I stayed when I so obviously had this well adjusted child capable of being on her own and that I was clearly being over protective in the extreme. Thinking of me as the Dumb- Ass Mom who insisted on staying. Still though, everyone offers! Oh well. Better they think I was the one with the exceptional needs!
Saturday, February 14, 2009
I called my husband an Ass Hat last night and he thought it was so funny he has been referring to himself as The Ass Hat all day.
I yelled at Teena a few nights ago. She was having a home cooked meal of nutritious Spaghettio's (ever look at the label? It has way more nutrition than white bread, maybe not as much as popcorn ahem) and she got some on the table cloth. I had a fit, yelling about who got red sauce on my table cloth, I just washed the damn thing. Then I realized how horrible I was. Not for yelling. For caring.
WHEN DID I BECOME A PERSON WHO EVEN HAS A STINKING TABLECLOTH NOT TO MENTION WHO THE HELL CARES IF IT GETS MESSY IT IS ON THE TABLE WHERE WE EAT OUR FOOD!!!!
Teena has an unfortunate resemblance to Pig Pen, the little kid from the Peanuts cartoons who walks around in a cloud of dust. The only way to keep something clean around her is to get it away from her, or move her away from it. This means she should eat outside, or in the shower. I am a pro- active mom though, I taught her how to use our dust buster. But, it is still too heavy for her to carry.
Friday, February 13, 2009
2 nights ago Genea woke us all up in the middle of the night. She said she had a nightmare so I let her come and sleep by me. Groggy as I was, I did not realize she had turned on the lights and woken up Teena as well.
She has done this since she came here but had finally stopped about 6 months ago. She wakes up for whatever reason and proceeds to wake up everyone else. She turns lights on, wails and cries on and on. We tell her to knock it off, she gets louder. We tell her to go back to sleep etc, and she screams. She wants to get up and she wants everyone else to get up too. We have tried everything to stop her, but unfortunately she has the upper hand in this because we cannot physically make her shut up. It only stopped when we started putting her on total restriction for waking up the house. She had to stay in her room all day, eating toast and- or leftovers only. And water to drink. I hated doing it for a lot of reasons, but mainly I hated to separate her like that from us. How will we bond and attach when we are in different rooms all day? Going to that extreme made me feel like I was not doing my job and going overboard with the consequence. Like, I can't parent someone who isn't there! Being honest about the good, the bad and the ugly, I admit that I also felt a guilty sort of relief in a way. Having Genea contained in a room was a lot easier than having her bounce and ping around all day. It was a nice break from the incessant unending verbal barrage that normally makes up a day with her. Especially when I am exhausted from being up half the night. It took about another month on and off, but she finally did quit.
So, I predicted that she would wake us up with another nightmare last night. I knew she had just gotten too much mileage from the previous night. I got off track yesterday and did not remember to go over it with her. The girls have a clock in their room so they know when it is 7 they can get up. Not one minute before- and they have only missed it maybe twice. Every day, there they are, 7 am on the dot (yes, I know that is a lot later than a lot of people have to get up and moving).
Around 5 am, Genea started calling out to us that the time was taking too long. This is usually the first step in the avalanche that is coming, and so sure enough we told her it was not time yet and she began to wail. We told her to knock it off, she got louder and Teena woke up. We told her she would be in trouble if she kept it up and she subsided enough that everyone including Teena was able to drift back to sleep, then she began the pre-cry whine again. Every time she detected people might be falling back to sleep here comes the whining and the calling out to us, then firing up the cry again. Endless cycle.
I will appreciate suggestions. I have told her she is on restriction when she gets home from school. I also told her the party on Sunday is not an option if we cannot trust her to behave in our home, we cannot let her go to someone elses home. But I have not cancelled her rsvp. I hope this all makes sense.
Maybe it is a Friday the 13th so close to the full moon.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
We all went out to dinner the other night to a great little restaurant that has on Sundays, free kids meals and adults get a free order of cupcakes as dessert. The girls have gotten much better at restaurants lately although you still get a set amount of time. You know, like they can go about 40 minutes on their own and can stay and behave for up to 50 minutes if heavily entertained. But if we spend 15 minutes waiting for a table, that is counted into the total allotted minutes. Anyway, they have stopped throwing things and banging on the tables. I remember being horrified with them at Old Country Buffet, they were yelling and banging and throwing stuff, and hit some older ladies. Fortunately, my girls cuteness gets them out of a lot of trouble on the outside. The ladies thought it was hilarious and commented they were SO HAPPY neither lady was in my shoes and their kids were grown up. LOL!
So there is 5 of us for dinner and we were about halfway through. Genea had inhaled her mac and cheese and some bread. We were all eating and the server came to check on us and when she did, this is what happened.
Genea: Can I have another orange juice please?
Server: Of course
Me, The Husband, The MIL: nothing. we say nothing because we are all so stunned that Genea did that.
Me: oh, yeah sure she can have another one, thanks.
Ok, this is my kid with all the crazy problems including massive social fears and new people fears and talking to people fears, and she just ordered herself a drink!!!!!!!!!!!
I know it looks totally lame written out now that I am reading it. But BELIEVE me, this is a huge step for her. I was so proud of her!
Although, she is not allowed to binge on liquids and knew she probably shouldn't have done that but I gave her an inch because the issue has never come up before in a restaurant.
Genea got an invitation in the mail to a classmates birthday party! I think all the girls in the class are invited. I already feel like I swallowed barbed wire I am so nervous for her just thinking about it. I theoretically know she will be fine, but it has wracked my nerves because what if she gets into a situation that freaks her out and she can't figure out what to do because her brain does not work that way and she melts down and ruins the party and has the stigma of being the kid that loused up the Fairy Princess Party until she graduates from high school!!!!!!
(ok I know I am reaching here but I like to look at the big picture as well as the small picture and it could really happen don't you remember the kid that pee'd in kindergarten or puked in class or ate the paste and glue cuz I DO TOO! TIM G. I remember you!! And Mark F. you too!!)
Only Genea's room teacher knows her background. Oh yea and the useless counselor (when she has a meltdown the counselor suggest we have her focus on a pen right like I am going to hand Genea a weapon in the middle of a fit). I don't really want to tell anyone else anything they don't need to know and for now, Genea is 'passing' as a regular kid and I do not want to wreck that for her. But sending her to someone else's house and leaving her there..... who else did that.... her last parents who then left her...we had all kinds of nice little home visits when we were transitioning, what if she flashes back!
Ah, I am sure she will be fine. She has come so far and learned so much. These are just the things I think about and worry for her.
So Genea lost another tooth. It kills me, just kills me, that she accepts her teeth tumbling out of her mouth with blood involved and a big fat hole in her jaw and it is no big deal to her. This kid has a whopping tantrum over any old little thing. She rarely, if ever, gets food on her face eating because she can feel even the tiniest little blip of sauce on her skin and she always wipes it off or licks it off but she about always feels it because her sensory system is set on extra super turbo high. She practically collapses in fear for her life demanding immediate medical intervention for a speck on her skin and insists on band-aids and splints and slings for days. She limps around if she bumps her hand. But a tooth? Ah well.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
The, "I don't think she (me) wants me(mil) here, snivel snivel" card. The crying fit was evidently not effectively manipulative enough. My First (and Current) Husband is now getting more insistent that I join their little outings and he sits in the back seat of the car convulsing in pain from cramps.
Hmm, I may have to rethink my strategy. I certainly cannot out- nicey nice anyone. Can't wear the panties in that club. Although, if I were to insist on going along on all little outings, that would probably burn up some bridges, or something like that.
Gifts were handed out. I was handed a cutesy mix to make cookies from. I don't just not cook, I seriously do not even have a cookie sheet. The girls were gifted with 2 handmade aprons (handmade by someone else in a craft store somewhere) to ''put on when they are cooking with mom in the kitchen''. I almost looked around my own house trying to figure out who that mom was. Oh, me? I cracked that I don't cook several times. What the hell.
JUST BECAUSE I HAVE OVARIES DOES NOT MAKE ME WANT TO COOK AND IT IS INSANE AND INANE THAT ANYONE WOULD SUGGEST OWNERSHIP OF GIRLY PARTS MEANS YOU SHOULD LIVE IN THE KITCHEN AND COOK SHIT
AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH AAHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAHHHH
screaming AHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAH stupid AAAAHHHHH
insipid AAAAAAAAAAH HHHHHHHHHHAA
COOK YOUR OWN SHIT YOU CAN DO IT IN MY KITCHEN IT HAS NEVER BEEN USED
Monday, February 9, 2009
Some women, many years ago, were brought up to serve. They were brought up to smile, take care of others and do as they were told. Men are more important and when you get married your job then becomes to take care of your husband, children, and home. You are wife, hear you gag choke and smother. You are not just last, you are not a factor.
When I was growing up, I had one grandmother tell me to quit acting smart, I would never get a boyfriend that way (she also said I was lucky I could 'test drive' a man first since that wasn't allowed in her day LOL). At the other grandmothers home we would go as a family and my dad would park his butt next to his fathers butt on the recliners parked in front of the tv and snap at my sister and I to go help grandma in the kitchen. I resented the hell out of that, so much so that to this day I remember and am blogging about it. I never understood, still don't, how you could marinate your ass in la- Z- boy lovin' and have the nerve to tell someone else to go do all the work. Get up and do it yourself idiot.
I may not be shocking anyone here at this point, when I confess that I did not sit quietly agreeing with those attitudes. I was lucky, I think, to grow up in the era where men and women are equal. We were able to have opinions as girls, and express them (to a point). It was taught in schools, on PBS, and reflected in my parents home (to a point), girls can do anything boys can do and boys can do anything girls can do. My mom definitely had the opinion that boys and girls may be equal, but secretly girls are better.
Unfortunately, this sort of assertiveness with opinions never did win me any friends with the older set. I remember 2 jobs ago, I was in charge of my own department. It was a grant position that I put together from start to finish and it made gobs of money for the agency. Our office manager, an older woman named Dorothy, was the type to refer to people such as "that colored girl" or "the big one" and other charming little terms. She was very strict and uptight and more than one person was afraid of her. She HATED me. Oh my goodness, she hated the sight and sound of me. However, she would have never dreamed of actually confronting or saying anything to me. To her, and to many otherly aged women I have noticed, if you have to say something "unpleasant" you say it with a smile and an inane little giggle in your voice. Like, *SMILE* "I would love to slap you, *inane giggle* you rude little shit " *SMILE*. But she never even did that. HOoo Noooo, she spent her days doing little passive aggressive things to work my nerves. Like, she would make a change in my department with the program manager, and I would say No and put it all back. Just, No. My department. She could not believe someone would do that. One day I was chewing in the front office and I overheard her telling someone else how rude I was to have food in my mouth and chew it, I pointedly finished chewing and said," isn't it more rude to gossip about people? Because I am pretty sure that is a sin." I know she blew out a few hemorrhoids that day. Cuz really, you know, some people have great talents they can sing or what have you. Me, I can't sing but I can out- snotty comment a lot of people. And from that day on, it was war. She was a bit of a germ-o- phobe. Now, I admit this is desperately immature. Terrible of me. I would go into her office and make a point of leaning a butt cheek on her desk. Or sneezing by her keyboard. I know, it is awful. I was horrible and mean.( If you can't wear the panties, don't expect to play with the big girls). I would cough into my hand then hold her door knob. She would (try to) change my filing system. I would hum music from The Wizard of OZ when I passed her, you know the wicked witch song. She would print up reams of crap for me to sign and acknowledge to be "liable" for. On and on. Fun, really. I have opinions. I express them. But we all know they are like assholes, everyone has one.
Now, this lengthy story is background. I am establishing history of low tolerance for pissy folk who try to annoy me. I admit to my part of having a hair trigger reaction to what I may perceive as being ruded upon. This lengthy story is my little way of announcing to the world that in recent days, despite all else, I have been successfully holding myself back from a tirade. Stuffing my frustrations down like shrimp at a Vegas buffet. If it weren't for the whole part about 3 miracles and virtuous behavior like, always, I might even suggest someone nominate me as a low-ranking saint. I have held my mouth shut forcibly. My phony smile has crumbled and cracked like a busted out windshield, but it has held, although with a sort of constipated hint to it. It has very nearly come to the point of calling Home Depot to come and install hardware to keep me from exploding. I put up with my children's clothes being changed. I said nothing when their hair was re- coiffed. Letting Teena eat an entire bucket of movie theater popcorn and calling it nutritious. I have been patient. I have had nerves of steel. I threw out 3 empty bottles of Xanax. I have been to my happy place with a bottle of tequila, a funnel cake cart, and my second husband (the one I haven't met yet) over and over. I have smiled and nodded until my face cheeks splintered and butt cheeks actually froze stuck. Until last night.
We were all going to take a little trip, to the South of Wisconsin. My children, myself, my first husband and his mother. For this a car was rented so that 2 cars were not needed to fit everyone.
A decision was made, by the person in charge of this decision, that when it comes to comfort, mine is expendable. My husbands is first or second, his mothers is second or first, and when it comes to me, well, stuffed into the back seat of a Pontiac with 2 children in car seats should be okay with me because I should be respecting my elders and respecting my husband and making sure I am making them and everyone else happy without consideration for any part of my 5 foot 10 inch bod. (And by the way I HAVE a Pontiac!) Nosiree, I was supposed to clench my butt and be quiet. Again. While the ahem, bigger people, sat in the comfortable seats. Because this has happened before with other family members from that part of the family tree. And though I made apparent my opinion, I allowed The Husband to beg and plead and promise me a new handbag to let it go back then. But yesterday, when I mentioned that this arrangement was tight, the response was, "well I figured it is not that long of a drive to be a little uncomfortable". People, the ride was 3 hours. Each way. SIX hours total. And it occurred to me, as I was elevated 2 inches above the seat by virtue of my highly stiffened butt that the person speaking had decided that a little discomfort would be ok because that person had no intention of sitting in the back with 2 children in car seats, or anywhere else that might be uncomfortable. And had such person thought for one second that her beloved son might have to sit there torqued inhumanely, things would have been dramatically different. We would be in a Hummer. And so I realized that said person made her decision about things that suck and things that would be just fine for a short 6 hour trip based on the fact that the one person that would be stuck with the shit that sucks, would be me. And that was okay. With her.
It was not. Okay. With me.
And, I have to say, if you insist on emitting an little giggle after everything you say AND after everything everyone else says, no matter what the hell it is, I cannot and will not be responsible for your meltdown because I have been living with the high priestess of the manipulative meltdown for a year and a half and I am immune. And next time I am driving my own car.
Friday, February 6, 2009
I just hope I live to see the end of next week. Oh my unholy hell!
(me raising my hand and waving and panting like Steve Uerkel) OOoh OOh OOOoh I have questions pick me pick me!!!
Ahem. Yes, thank you. My question is, how do you build self esteem in a child who has been dumped twice in her first 4 little years of life? Okay, yeah, I said we love her, um hmmm, yes, told her she is a good kid. Um, what else do you have on your little agenda there? Your little note cards on how to make kids feel good about themselves. Do you have anything about justifiable rage, grief and fear? How should I handle the separation anxiety and absolute panic when I move into the next room, or even just out of my child's sight? I would love to hear your idea's when, for example, I give my child more crackers as a snack than she was expecting and she began to wail and it went on for 5 minutes and she could not pull herself together the rest of the night so she wailed and sobbed about every little thing and then made some up when she ran out of real things and I am curious as to your insights as to where I can influence and improve on her esteem. Because evidently that is an area we parents have been lacking in.
I would like to know whose bright idea this was. Well, probably I should be kept away from the information. This is the kind of shit that makes mothers or parents feel incompetent no matter what they do. If my tax dollars, which include my property taxes that doubled 2 years ago, if that money is going to this degrading little seminar that says moms are inherently stupid, I'm gonna' have a fit.
Maybe they would like some of my more useful suggestions for a class. How do you get your fully functional child to quit peeing on herself? How do you anticipate a meltdown and prevent it? If my child is in a nice little time out as a consequence, how do you suggest I handle it when she regresses and announces in a baby voice that she has just poo poo'd on herself? Uh huh, and then when she does it again 2 hours later? How do you explain to a child where all the other parents went and why? Yup, your first 2 mom's could not do it, but really I mean it, the 3rd is going to stick. Yesiree, just because I said so. How do you reassure a child who needs to feel in control of everything, how do you get across to that child that it really is ok. It is ok to relax. It is ok to rest. It is just ok now. You can have a self to build esteem onto.
So, unfortunately, I have to RSVP with a 'cannot attend'. My child's self esteem is not to a point that I can drop her off somewhere and appear for your nice little class without crushing her. I am not willing to deal with the fall-out from changing up routines and schedules for the precious pearl's of wisdom I am certain will be available for this ground- breaking class.
(I absolutely do NOT expect my childs school district to put on any sort of class that would go so far off the track as my questions would. But, I do really think there are many more useful subjects that could get touched upon. (What do you say when your kid asks where babies come from? Because both of my girls think you go and pick them up even the one I spent 30 hours squeezing out).)
If you are planning on any classes on how to afford child care or health insurance please feel free to contact me. Otherwise, I am busy.
What went all wonky with my font there ? I have no clue. Not intentional, but oddly seems to fit.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
So here is what I want. My list has become a bit longer since I have done some looking.
Straps that stay up. WHY is this so hard.
A reasonable price. WTF is worth $30?
Fit without overflow. This means, no fat flopover. I am not overweight and I still get flopover.
No aeronautics or hydraulics. If they aren't gonna get there unless water balloons or tubes filled with air are included, I am not interested. Unless I am on the Titanic.
A nice fabric. Not sticky or itchy or stiff. Maybe like socks.
Smooth and cover. No twists and torques in the construction that can be seen thru clothing.
(See, if you can make an infinity pool out of concrete that looks like it flows right into the ocean, can you not make a fabric seam that flows?)
No metals. 'nuff said.
Washes in the washer. Dries in the dryer.
Not ugly and no chicken wire.
Doesn't flatten. I don't need to perk them up and I don't need to look like a man. Just regular.
I bought a few new bra's recently. Maybe bras are designed by men. That would explain a lot. I bought a Playtex Thank Goodness it Fits. It does, and it is ok, but it is sort of stiff and the straps don't stay. And, it is ugly and has a visible ridge along the top of the cup thingy. At WalMart I got a 3 pack of sports bra's. This was a mistake. I probably should have noticed when there was no cup size, but didn't really think about it. See, I have NEVER heard of a compression bra. I would not have even thought such a thing was legal. It is like taking a giant pony tail band and wrapping it around your boobs. Very, very uncomfortable and has to be illegal. Our government saves us from driving without our own seat belts on but allows this?
Speaking of legal, I have watched former Gov Blagojevich with interest. I grew up in the Chicago area. When my mom was a teenager and took her first driving test, she failed. Everyone did and everyone knew it was because you had to pay to take the test every time. My grandfather slipped the driving test public employee some payola and, BSSSST presto chango she passed. It cracks me up that she to this day does not think anything of it. She keeps saying, but that is what you did back then.
I have watched him with giggles every time he is on the tv. Sorry, really, but this guy is good. And I hate to say it, but he does have a point. He has been charged with a crime and because of it was fired from his nice Governor job. If I am charged with stealing my neighbors newspaper for example, my boss at Wendy's cannot fire me. I am innocent until I am proven and judged guilty, even if there is videotape of me swiping the paper then sitting at my kitchen table to read it over some coffee then tossing it into the kitty litter pan when I am done, even then, I am still innocent until I have exercised my given right to make an ass out of myself saying I didn't, on the record.
This guy should get a reality show. One like the apprentice but not exposing me to any more Trump. Maybe he could try out various blue- collar jobs since he toots himself as their savior. Well I would watch anyway. I mean, he does need a job. Now that the side income is gone, he will probably be hurting a bit.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
My children have many talents. Genea can sing. Not just sing on key, or sing good for a kid. She can sing. She sounds like the CD when she sings from Annie. How cute is that, the whole curly headed orphan thing. Really. She also has what we like to call, a ''memory like an iron fist''. Never make the mistake of thinking a. she won't notice a change b. she will not care that you changed something or c. she can handle a small change. The up-side of this is huge, especially for the rest of us who are evidently incapable of picking up and- or putting away, those of us with shriveled up little peas where our organization abilities should be in the brain. Lose track of your keys? Ask Genea. Want to paint your toenails? Genea is the one who is going to remember to put down a paper towel. Did she eat a cookie 6 days ago after dinner? Yes, or no, she will remember.
For Teena, I have discovered a new talent. The kind that makes a parent proud. A talent that I could take to the Prissy Perfect Supermom Blogs and brag, that my perfect daughter has a perfect talent, and yours doesn't. Sometimes Teena gets up in the night to go pee. While she used to call for her Daddy, she has started calling out to me instead. I hate her getting up in the night because I worry about her going the wrong way and falling down the stairs, or getting hurt going to the bathroom. We started putting pull- ups back on her at night recently. After the hospital last month and multiple UTI's, she had been having accidents again at night. Go figure, if she is wearing a pull-up, she will not pee in it. No pull- up, pee your bed. I don't pretend to understand, I just report the facts.
ANYway, back to her talent. A few nights ago she got up out of bed to go potty. I listened for her and she was doing ok. Until she called for me. I went in and this is what I saw. Teena standing on the bathroom rug. Pull- up is off her butt but still at her knee's. Jammie bottoms just below the pull- up. Pull- up and jammies are dry. Pee stain on the bathroom rug approximately 6 inches around. She can pee on the floor, with clothes on, and keep herself dry. Amazing!
I feel like I am in a Mystery Theater production. Everything is dry so how did the rug get wet? It appears, and again, I do not know for a fact, but it appears that the pee bounced off the pull up and streamed and dripped onto the rug. So there was like, one drop of pee still on the pull up but not soaked in. Oh, and of course there is no pee in the potty. Magic. In my house, pee is magical.
So, I have a new attitude. I have been told for years, for decades, that my problem is my attitude. Or, I needed to change my attitude, you get the idea. Usually from people in authority that I thought were suckasses. All the personnel, from the cafeteria to slacker-student math teacher at my high school, would be delighted that I finally listened to their advice. My parents can finally relax. I have changed my attitude.
Woo hoo. Pee. Magic Pee.
Monday, February 2, 2009
He has apologized, said he regrets it, it was stupid, etc. I give him credit for admitting to it straight up. I have heard plenty of public people try to say, ''uh, yeah that is me but I didn't inhale''. And I agree, that was really stupid. In my opinion though, the colossally stupid part is getting caught. Getting caught with the bong covering your mouth. Come on! This guy has been photographed all over the world. He has been hunted by reporters and 'paparazzi' everywhere he goes. He has had people live outside his house waiting to take just one photo. Stalked. Hunted. Followed. I mean, I have never seen a picture of him digging out his nose or picking his underwear out of his butt or flipping someone off. He knows enough not to do those things in front of a camera!
Dude, seriously, how are you so stupid to let someone take a picture of you toking up. Although I suppose the answer is in the question now that I think about it. You smoke some weed and you get a few really dumbassed ideas floating around your head. Something was wrong with your doobage man, it did not make you paranoid enough.
So now the talk is all about if he will be kicked out of the pool forever for this. I gotta' say, unless Couch Morphing has become an Olympic event, I don't think it should count against him. Seriously, pot is about the most performance UN-enhancing drug there is. It sure will not be making him faster in the water. Or anywhere else.
I used to see a counseling client who was convinced there was marijuana in the air. This person had seen on the news that when police confiscate drugs they burn it all in a big pile. She became sure that it was in the air all around her. It did not dissipate, it just foofed around in the air forever. Seriously, she thought this for years. Now, it is a tribute to my brilliant therapeutic skills (sarcasm) that it took me less than one hour to convince her that this particular distortion of thought was off track. If there was marijuana in the air, people would be a lot happier. There would be no road rage, no highly ambitious crime, heck maybe even no more war! The Three Stooges would still be on television because everyone would think it was funny. I, me myself, I would be asleep.