Highlights... Or Not

So I've had, like, a gazillion things to blog about lately and ZERO time to do it.  When did my life get to be so busy???  I remember waking up at 9 a.m. on a Saturday morning, eating some breakfast, and then going back to bed until noon.  At around noon, I'd get up, change clothes, watch a little T.V., then take a little siesta from about 2 - 4 p.m.  Ahhh...  That was the life, wasn't it??

No more...  Now my life is filled with dance lessons, tumbling, cheer leading, homework, birthday parties, fall festivals, pyscho serial-authorities-reporter MIL from hell...  The list just goes on and on.  Not that I'm complaining...well, maybe a little.  Especially the MIL thing.  I'm totally sick of her.  And I'm tired from all the other activities.  And I can't find the time to do what I love most - blogging. 

To be totally honest, time isn't the only factor interfering with my blog time.  That crazy heifer of a MIL has me a little gun-shy.  Apparently, everything I've ever written has come back to haunt me.  Complete with a mentally deranged spin on it.  Courtesy of Judy, of course.  And her imaginary friends.  AnywaypraisetheLordandlet'smoveon...  I've decided to make this post a little collection of several excerpts among the ramblings in my mind.  Here goes; enjoy!

Cheer leading

O my effn' God!  This topic has me, well, um...speechless.  Before I put this on blast, I've decided to give it a little more time.  Suffice it to say that practicing a 5 year old from 6:30 until 8:30 p.m. on a school night is damn-near child abuse.  Especially when said 5 year old goes to bed every night at around 7:30 p.m.  And then to subject her to "pageant" type people who are always so happy and bubbly and ready to cheer, cheer, cheer?!?!  Damn.  Report that shit, Judy!

Hunting

It's that time of the year again, folks.  Now my husband will find every excuse in the book to miss out on every momentous occasion until Christmas.  Just so he can deer hunt.  Oh, and teach our 6 year old to hunt, too.  And to feed the needy people in our county since we don't even eat that shit.  Screw family portraits and Thanksgiving dinner with family...  He's got to teach my 6 year old how to shoot a gun.  And feed the children in the orphanage.  If those orphan children are smart, they won't eat that shit either.

Halloween

If you are old enough to get a job and buy your own candy, you are too damn old to trick-or-treat!  And trick-or-treating should be done in your own neighborhood.  Don't bring your 28 kids to my house just because I live in a nice neighborhood that gives out good candy.  Interlopers are not allowed!

Suicide

Why do people do it?  I just don't understand how someone with everything in the world to live for would want to take their own life!  One of my husband's dear friends shot himself last week.  It makes me angry at him when I see his family suffering.  Why did he have to be so damn selfish!?!?


Corporal Punishment

Whether you agree with it or not, the schools in my area still use it for disciplinary purposes.  My son got in trouble yesterday for throwing a fit when he was told to move his card.  Apparently, the whole move-your-card thing is a big deal to a first grader.  Especially my first grader.  During his little tantrum, the teacher sent him to the Principal's office who then proceeded to call my husband.  My husband gave the principal permission to give my son a paddling.  Two licks.  In the first grade.  I hope this isn't a sign of what's to come.  Thank God our baby girl knows how to act in school.

Pageants

My daughter asked if she could be in another pageant.  Remember that last fiasco?!?!  FML.  I hope she forgets about it, but that's doubtful.  Can someone please kill me now and put me out of my misery?!?!  I'm having flashbacks of watching her cry on stage and listening to her brother cry the whole way home because she didn't win anything.  Bless their hearts.  I <3 those kids of mine! 

The Graduates

Today my oldest graduated from kindergarten.  My youngest had her preschool graduation last week.  I'm sure I should be sad, but I'm not.  Yes, I am in awe that the time has gone by so quickly.  It seems like just yesterday that I was crying about the fact that I had two under the age of two and neither could walk.  Time keeps a rollin' by.  Hours and days quickly turn into months and years.  

G with her diploma

E with his sweet teacher

While we all know that the aging process is not my friend, I do appreciate the fact that my kids are growing up.  In addition, I'm totally psyched about our new found wealth!

No more daycare payments!  Woo hoo!!!  Mr. OCD can buy me the Hope diamond now.  Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggity dog!  <-----------*me celebrating*


Instead of being sad about them growing up, I'm ecstatic!  I personally cannot wait for the day that I can leave them home alone.  Even for just 5 minutes!  Do you think 6 is a bit young for that???

Call me an optimist, but I'm choosing to see the glass half full.  Besides no daycare debt, some other things I won't miss:

• Diapers!  Or pull-ups!  Or baby wipes or Boudreaux's Butt Paste...
• Late night pampering and early morning entertaining.  Finally, Mama can get the 14 hours of uninterrupted sleep she needs. 
• Sippy cups.  Big kids drink out of big cups.  Wait a minute; that only increases the number of spills in my house exponentially.  Ok, we'll keep a few sippy cups until they are 15 around for a while.
• 400 pound diaper bags.  Twenty minute trips to the grocery store are no longer preceded by 3 hours of diaper bag packing.
  
• Cumbersome car seats with safety latches, straps of steal, and tiny little airbags.  Only little booster seats that can be easily moved from car to car.  Better yet, booster seats so cheap that I can afford to own one for every vehicle in the family plus a spare for the kidnappers babysitter.
• Special dietary needs.  Now they can eat macaroni-n-cheese and hot dogs like the rest of the family.
• That big ass, double stroller.  They can walk!  Or run, for that matter.  Which brings me to the next advantage... 
• Expensive, great-for-tiny-growing-feet Stride Rites or Pedipeds.  I'm digging $1 flip flops from Walmart now - woo hoo!

 Yep, I'm excited about them growing up.  Big kids can do a whole lot more than those little ones.  Hell, I can't wait for them to learn to drive.  I'll never have to drive again.  It'll be like Driving Ms. LB.  In surround sound.

The War of the Bs

It's on!  On like Donkey Kong!   

The war of the Bs, baby!

I am pissed at Mr. OCD at this moment.  In fact from this point forward, I will refer to him as The Jackass.  Because he is one.  A self-centered jackass to be more specific. 

He is apparently blinded by his pathetic ego.  Lucky for him, I'm a peaceful person otherwise he might be blinded by a freakin' fork.  A fork dipped in Sulfuric acid.  Let me explain before you report me to the authorities.  Trust me, my thoughts are justified.

My daughter is five and in preschool.  In actuality, she goes to two preschools.  Half of the day is spent at a public preschool and the other half is spent at her daycare/preschool.  The daycare where she's been a student since she was an infant.  The daycare where she's spent most of her little life.  The daycare that she will be leaving behind when she starts Kindergarten in the fall.  The daycare that will be holding graduation ceremonies on May 6th.

It's a Friday night.  Unfortunately, it is also the same night as one of my son's t-ball games.  One of probably 20.  And it's t-ball, for Christ's sake.  Not the majors.

Do you know what The Jackass had the audacity to say to me this afternoon???  "Well, E and I will not be at the graduation.  We've got a game."

Aw, hell.  My blood's starting to boil all over again just thinking about it.

Are you freakin' kidding me?  Your daughter is graduating from preschool!  YOUR. DAUGHTER.  You didn't miss his graduation.  You have five other coaches on that team.  I am positive that they can make it one game without the two of you.

"I'm not missing that game," was his response. 

I wanted to hit him with a freakin' baseball bat at that point.  The light bulb came on, and everything became perfectly clear.  This had nothing to do with his responsibility to a team of COMPLETE. freakin'. strangers. who are not his own children.  Hell, no!  It is all about his freakin' ego.  It's all about THAT particular game.  Yes, on that night his little t-ball team will be playing the toughest competitor in the league.  THAT game is sure to be a big one.

He makes me sick, and I'm pulling out the big guns.  Mark my word.  So help me God, if he doesn't go to our daughter's graduation he will not get any for the entire summer!  Our poor baby girl is far more important than some he-man, chest-puffing, fist-pumping ego trip for 40 year old men trying to live vicariously through their damn 6 year old sons.

In 20 years, no one will remember whether or not he was at that effn' ballgame.  No one!  Because it's not freakin' important to the health and well-being of his family!  However, unless he wants his daughter to feel as though she is not worthy of his attention his ass better be at that graduation.

I'll let you know how it turns out...  Until then, The Jackass is on my shit list. 

Spa Day

My son watches too much television.  I think that's already been established.  In order to get his attention, I literally have to turn the thing off.  Even then, he stares at the blank screen thinking there must be some sort of mistake and maybe it will come back on if he stares long enough.  The lazy mom that I am has created this little monster.

It has it's advantages, though.  Yesterday, for instance, he surprised me with a "spa day" compliments of the Phineas & Ferb episode where the boys create a luxurious spa in the backyard for Candace and Stacy.

Mom, I'm going to give you a su-ssage.  Lay down and let me put this towel over you.  I'm going to walk on your back and give you a karate chop.

My first thought is that I'm too busy with laundry to play.  However, I quickly reconsidered.  When was the last time someone offered to give me a su-ssage??  Um, not since those wilder single days, and I'm not sure those really counted as "spa" treatments.

I relented.  He proceeded to walk on my back.  He then began chopping complete with "Hi-Ya" sounds.

Okay, now this next part is a little messy but I'll wash you off in the hot tub.  G, I need you to get some mud out of the backyard.  Mom, I need you to put just hot water in the tub.

Um, can we just skip that part, honey?  I think your daddy will have a fit if you bring mud into the house.

Uh, okay.  Daddy will probably spank me.  Let's just pretend. 

He pretended to pat me down with mud.  By this time, the baby sister joined in.  She, too, wanted an opportunity to walk on Mommy's back.

This next step might make me puke!  I have to put pickles on your eyes!  Yuck!  I hate pickles!  Can I use bananas instead?

How about I just close my eyes and we'll pretend I have pickles on them.

Okay.  We don't have pickles any way.

It was the most incredible spa treatment I'd ever received... 

Until the fighting began. 

G, I'm doing that part.  Give me back that towel!  Mom, G won't do it right.

I want to give Mama a su-ssage, too.  Mama, E won't let me help.

Ahhh...so much for relaxation.

The Ju-Ju Gene

My son has it.  The Ju-Ju Gene.  It's a defective gene from my husband's side.  I've named it after the MIL from Hell who I thought was out of our lives.

Not true.  While we do not speak to her or interact with her in any way, she is alive and kicking in our immediate family via the genetic make up of our offspring. 

My poor son has it bad.  He gets completely psychotic when things don't go his way.  He is a complete narcissist.  He gets very upset if his sister receives any praise because, well, it's supposed to be all about HIM.  He would just as soon cut her jugular than look at her. 

This week more effects of the Ju-Ju Gene have surfaced.  It's one of the worst, in my opinion.  A characteristic that, on a good day, will make my head explode.  It's called lying.  It seems Mr. Adorably Deceptive accidentally bent his glasses on Monday.  Instead of coming clean, he blamed it on a classmate.  On Tuesday, when he got in trouble with a substitute teacher, he bent them out of anger.  Again, he claimed his classmate grabbed them off his face and broke them.  The glasses, after Tuesdays incident, were officially broken and in need of repair. 

I was pissed.  And pissed at the other kid.  Two damn days in a row that kid has grabbed his glasses!  Why didn't the teacher do something???  Or let me know something???  Who is this mean-ass kid?

As a result, I emailed his teacher about it.  Imagine my surprise when she explained to me what had really transpired!  When I confronted him, he confessed.  However, he continued to lie to his dad who picked him up from school yesterday afternoon.  (At 6, you apparently don't realize that your parents may actually talk to one another.)

It makes me cringe just thinking about it.  Trust and honesty are so important to me.  I'm lazy.  It requires too much work to be suspicious of people and their actions.  It requires checking and double checking.  Consequences and punishment.  I just want to lay on the couch and watch T.V., for Christ's sake!

Anylittleliar, his dishonesty this week has cost me him TWO nights of television!  I could not sit him and his sister in front of the T.V. while I surfed the internet.  I was unable to watch Phineas & Ferb last night because of his punishment.  (K, maybe the narcissism comes from my side of the family.)

I hope we can overcome genetics.  I don't know how well I can coexist with a compulsive liar.  Could it just be a phase?  Will a lobotomy help?  Electroshock Therapy, maybe??

Please God let him get a smiley face today.  Tonight there's a new episode of Star Wars:  The Clone Wars, and I don't want to miss it!

Careers for Kids

My son comes to me extremely upset and crying.  "Mama, they won't let me on the trampoline."  He is referring to his younger sister, and the much-too-old-to-be-playing-with-preschoolers neighbor.

"Mama, don't you give them any money either.  They won't let me play."

"I'm not.  Honey, why would I give them money?," because I was puzzled and couldn't help myself.

"They said they were going to make a lot of money dancing so they could buy whatever they want.  They said I couldn't play with their stuff.  Please don't give them any money for dancing!"

"Oh, really!" I said.  Then I turned to the trampoline... 

"GEEEEE!  Get your butt over here!  Play nice with your brother, or I'll send Nessie home.  And DO NOT tell people that you will make money dancing.  If you want to make some money, clean your room or feed the dog like every other kids does."  

I think I may have finally figured out exactly what the woman next door does for a living...

It's Not Really the Greatest Show on Earth

Our house is like a three-ring circus after midnight.  Seriously, when the clock strikes twelve the roof becomes a Big Top and our bedrooms become three rings.

The main attraction is my bedroom.  Everything starts out there.  Every night a pair of little feet trample down the stairs.  Or if it's my son, two butt cheeks slide down like a raft on a water slide.  Regardless, every night.  Same show.

Typically, the switch is stealth-like.  My son quietly sneaks into my bed and kicks his daddy out.  Daddy then heads up the stairs to our son's room.  Pillow in tow.  He's barely settled in when our daughter comes into the room after being awakened by the butt contact with the stairs.  (My son is a big, clumsy boy; everything he does is a bit loud and off-kilter, God love him.)

She needs him.  He's the monkey; she's the trainer.  Fetch some chocolate milk and a fruit roll up.  Pronto.  Oh, and when she's finished her snack, she'll need a back rub in order to fall back asleep.  K?  Thanks.

Ladies and Gents, may we have your attention back at the center ring?

Before you start to feel bad for Daddy, let me explain what's going on in my bedroom.  True, they do not wake me up.  First of all, they know I'll tell them to go back to their own damn beds.  Second, I am NOT a hotel clerk and will NOT be providing room service.  We're not talking about infant children here - one is 6 years old, the other is nearly 5.

However, I do become painfully aware of the Big Top circus show later on when things have settled down.  Just as I'm starting to really get into my dream about Brad Pitt, I am awakened by a forceful kick in the back.  Startled, I attempt to roll over.  Nothing happening.  I'm stuck on less than six inches of mattress with my son's entire body slightly wedged under me.  Not completely, for Christ's Sake, but just enough to make him warm and comfortable while fully immobilizing me.  Ta-da! An elephant pyramid.

Shit!  Not again!  Dammit to Hell!  (I love to curse in my head at moments like this.) 

By now, though, it's about 2 or 3 in the morning.  Too late to enforce my rule about sleeping in your own bed.  Too early to get up and get dressed.  Instead, I lay there.  Uncomfortable.  Ill as a hornet knowing that I will not get my requisite nine hours of uninterrupted sleep.  The morning forecast for my high school students is cranky with a possibility of lethargic.

7:40

A new record was set this morning at the LB home.   

Go, E!  Go, G!  Go, Mr. OCD!  I didn't think it was possible, but all your team work paid off.  It was a hard fought battle, but you finally broke the previous record.

*insert roaring crowd and We Are the Champions by Queen*

Mama is so proud of her precious darlings.  No, they didn't find a cure for cancer.  Nor did that end the war in Iraq.  In fact, I don't think they even realized the greatness of their feat which makes me the sweetness of this moment even more, well...sweet. 

Mama had a much dreaded doctor's appointment this morning.  For some reason, I have severe issues with death and dying which has kicked my hypochondria into high gear.  My age and my weight are the biggest two contributors to my paranoia.  I will be 45 this year, but my kids are only 5 and 6 years old.  I am scared to death that I will die before they've grown and started families of their own.  I am PETRIFIED of the uncertainty and inability to control this unfortunate part of the human life cycle.  Consequently, I focus on those things I can control (until my ADD kicks in and I forget why I can't eat butter straight out of the tub) like my cholesterol which, by the way, is out of control again.  Uuuuggghhh...I need to post flashing billboards all over the place that say:

"KEEP YOUR FAT ASS AWAY FROM SATURATED FATS & GET MORE EXERCISE, HEIFER!" <------ (I wish I knew how the hell to make that thing blink, but learning HTML is not on my bucket list at the present.)

...but I digress.  Oh well, it's my ADD and my freakin' blog post.  If you've hung on this long, you must be curious about the spectacular feat.

Now where was I?  Oh, because I had the appointment with my doctor, Mr. OCD decided to go in late and keep the kids.  (Nice of him seeing as they are his offspring, and I am his near-death wife.)  Incredibly, they let me sleep until....drum roll, please...7:40 a.m.!!!  That has never been done over a school break, ladies and gents.  NEVER.  7:15 a.m. was about as late as it ever got.  Christmas gifts come in all shapes and sizes...

As for my blood work, I haven't heard back.  I'm not optimistic, though, and I expect all will come back "just fine" which 1.) further confirms my severe hypochondria, and 2.) means there's no medical reason for my ass to be as big as the state of Texas.

Disney Vacation Tips

My blogs have been sparse lately as I've been busy preparing for yet another torturous vacation at Walt Disney World in Florida.  My kids are 4 and 5, and have been to Disney World three times already.  Mama's finally taking a stand!  We will JUST SAY NO! to Disney...at least until my short-term memory has erased the horror.

If you are looking for tips along the caliber of Frommer's, stop reading now.  But if you are looking for ways to merely survive one hellacious week of over-priced entertainment in the warmest location on the North American continent, look no further.  LB is here to help.  And you are very welcome.

Tip #1 - Tell your kids the place was destroyed by a hurricane, tornado, earthquake, meteorite...anything!  If they buy it, you don't even need to read the other tips.

Tip #2 - Screw comfortable shoes; rent a fat-lady scooter or a wheelchair.  Hell, everyone else does it and they get premium seating at all the shows!

Tip #3 - Sunscreen, sunscreen, sunscreen!!  People, if you are white as a cotton ball, please use lots of sunscreen.  I saw a family at the water park that probably needed hospitalization.  They were burnt UP!

Tip #4 - Be sure to pack the happy pills.  It may even be necessary to up your dosage.

Tip #5 - Fight the urge to plan!  Don't do it!  You'll spend your entire trip stressed out and 5 minutes late to everything.

Tip #6 - If you own a gun, leave it at home.  More than likely the urge to shoot someone will be too hard to resist.

Tip #7 - If you do the dining plan, be sure it includes alcoholic beverages.  At least if you are shit-faced drunk, you won't feel bad when you yell for the fat-ass, slow-walking family in front of you to "MOVE OUT OF THE FREAKIN' WAY!"


Tip #8 - If possible, leave the kids at home.  Just go with your spouse or your boyfriend or both.  Maybe then you can actually enjoy the place.

Tip #9 - Forget about your dietary restrictions.  Healthy options are available, but why bother???  They've got the best desserts, ice cream, candy, and rot gut, saturated fat-filled, artery clogging meals in America!  If you are going to spend $50 a person on a meal, better get your money's worth.

Tip #10 - If you think you can do everything in 5 days, book your vacation for 7-8 days.  Disney is so much more enjoyable when done in small doses.  Your kids will thank you, your spouse will thank you, and the corporate shareholders at Disney will thank you!

Local Headline - Kid Single-Handly Evacuates the YMCA

Okay, it's already been established that I hate the Y.  Many of the people there are weird, the camp kids are heathens, and there are no little TVs on the elliptical machines!  Call me a snob, but I want to be around my own kind with as few small children as possible.

There is something I love about the Y, though.  They offer swim lessons at an incredibly low, low price.  And the instructors are AWESOME!  They really know their stuff.  Seriously, my five year old can swim in the deep end without assistance.  I'm not talking treading water or dog paddling either.  Swimming.  Front stroke, back stroke, side stroke.  That's pretty freakin' awesome, in my opinion.

So every day, I take the kids to swim lessons.  I drop them off to their swimming instructor and return when the lessons are over.  It's not like I "leave" them, though.  I just walk about 100 feet away and hit the gym. (I'm still pissed about the antiquated elliptical machines, but I make due. Motherhood is about sacrifice after all.)  I'm sure the other moms are appalled that I don't stay to marvel at my children's new skills; but hey, I've got stuff to do!

Now, where was I???  Oh, yea.  At the gym.  Just when I found a good read and started to break a sweat, I hear this little voice.  "Excuse me.  Mama, I puked."

Still not seeing my child, I look around in the direction of that voice.  That very familiar voice.  That voice of an extremely well-mannered five year old.  No, I'm not the only mother in the joint.  But I know that voice.  And I recognize that phrase.  That all too familiar phrase -- "Mama, I puked" phrase.

My son, the puker, struck again.  I knew I should have made him eat lunch at 11:30 a.m. instead of 1:00 p.m.  My kids always eat at 11:30 a.m.  I knew I should have stopped him at 2 grill cheese sandwiches and not forced him to take a few bites of the A-B-Cs & 1-2-3s.  I knew it; I just knew.

Sure enough, he got full as a tick just before we headed off to swim lessons.  Once there, he went to the restroom.  He said he had to poop.  I didn't freak because he always goes to the restroom.  Everywhere we go, E has a bowel movement.  Kinda like a dog marking his territory.  No big deal.  Poop, yell for Mama to wipe his hiney, wash his hands, and then off he goes.  Same routine.  Every day at various locations throughout the Mid-South.

His sister and the other little girl in his class were already swimming when he finally got to the pool.  He seemed fine, and jumped in.  He was not fine.  He puked all over the side of the pool.  He puked all in the inside of the pool. 

A full scale evacuation ensued.  Swimming lessons were canceled.  Swim team practice was canceled.  Granny water aerobics was canceled.  The director announced that the water was "contaminated and not suitable for swimming."

I grabbed the kids and high-tailed it out of there.  Embarrassed and amused at the same time.  This is our life...

He's Turning Into One of "Those" Men

I know it's the same pic, but it's so good...and so apropos!

Remember my post about the Derek Jeter-pimping dads?  Where the dads were "training" their five year olds for the World Series?  I knew that shit observation would eventually bite me in the butt.

This morning, my dear husband decided that we must skip church.  He had far more important things to take care of today.  Being the slacker I am, I figured what the heck?  It's not like my kids are going to leave me alone long enough to worship anyway.  The only real conversations I can have with God lately are at 8:30 p.m. when I'm praying that G will finally fall asleep.  (We have a strict 7:30 p.m. bedtime that's gone to hell in a hand basket since ball season started.)

So we played hookie this morning.  To go to Sports Authority.  For a big sale on ball equipment.  Some freakin' sale it turned out to be...

My husband spent nearly $400 on "gear!"  He bought both kids new bats that were, by the way, still more expensive than the ones they already have -- even at 50% off!  Then he started eyeballing this batting contraption.  It was a hundred dollars.  Of course, after closer inspection, he decided he didn't need it.  Instead, he HAD to have the one that was two hundred freakin' dollars!!!  For $200, he better start batting like freakin' Alex Rodriguez on steroids! 

That wasn't the end of it, though.  Oh no!  "Come on, woman!  He can't hit like A-Rod if only catches like Helen Keller!"  He picked up this net-thingamajig that actually looked very cool if it weren't so damn expensive.  Apparently, the kids throw the ball into this jewel-encrusted net and the net bounces it back to them.  It is supposed to help them with fielding the ball.  Like I said, by the time we walked out of the store he'd spent about $400 on shit gear! 

Don't get me wrong; if my child had been playing ball for several years and was really into it, I could probably stomach spending about HALF of that money.  Or if I had Oprah money...  Hell, if I had Oprah money this blog wouldn't even be necessary.  But if we had money to burn...NOPE.  I still can't rationalize it. 

It kinda gives me a different perspective on the testosterone-lined third base fence, though.  Those dads have probably already put out that kind of money and more on their kids' baseball paraphenalia.  They can't afford any other form of entertainment.  They can't even pay the light bill because Baby Boy needed a new pair of motorized, glow-in-the-dark, gortex lined batting gloves! 

Jimmy Pete can't afford the house note, but Baby Boy is signed up for Derek Jeter's baseball camp!  We've moved into this double-wide to promote my husband's obsession son's career as a professional baseball player.  Yes, we've spent a bunch of money on this sport, but it's an investment into his future.  Eventually, he will get a huge check on signing day, earn the league minimum his first year, then start making the big bucks to support our entire family for the rest of his life!!!  Yes, and we'll send $2,498 of it in order to collect all that money we won in the Nigerian lottery.  We'll be rich, LaWanda Jo!  Rich, I tell ya!

If he starts dipping into my swimming pool fund, we're gonna fight!

      

The Ugly Truth -- It Ain't Pretty

Alright, I've calmed down a little, very little, so this is going to be a long one.  You've been warned...

The MIL struck again.  I'm not sure how I will be able to keep from slapping the shit out of her maintain my composure much longer.  I know I have to for the sake of my family.

HATE is really such a strong term, and I do not like to use it when describing my feelings for someone.  However, it's all I got!  Towards the MIL, that is.  She is a horrible, despicable woman!  She is a complete narcissist who lives in a fantasy world where she is wonderful and everyone who crosses her is evil.  She has absolutely NO life because no one wants to be around her.  She is TOXIC!  According to Dr. Phil and Mrs. LB, you cannot have a relationship with toxic people if you want to be happy.  

What he forgot to add, though, is that once you get rid of said toxic relationship, you'll have to hunker down for the aftermath.  Ya see, toxic narcissists love for the attention to be on them.  If you take that away, they will go to great lengths to get your attention again.  Negative attention is as good as anything.  In fact, the more drama the better.  The MIL is a great victim!!!  It is her favorite role.  Poor, poor Judy...  Her son is being so mean to her.  She can't even see her grandchildren.  Ya damn skippy, she can't!!!

Instead of being PC and keeping it cryptic, I think it's time I lay out the details and expose her for the horrible creature she is.  As you may remember, a few weeks back she came for a visit, she allowed her dog to shit in my son's room, and she and my husband got into because she 1.) let the dog in against our wishes, and 2.) asked our children to lie about it.  It still pisses me off just thinking about it.  The dog shit can be cleaned up, but expecting my kids to lie for you????  That's crossing the freakin' line, lady!

After a complete throw down full of "I hate yous," that looney tune decides to call our pastor and DHS to report that we'd been abusing our kids!!!!

Back up to the her visit.  As usual, she came to our house and sat her fass ass in the recliner where she probably stayed until she left again.  If the kids wanted to hug her, they had to get in the recliner.  My poor recliner...

That evening, my daughter was extremely tired and irritable.  She cried all afternoon.  It was seriously one tantrum after another.  As it got closer to bedtime, I put her in the tub for a bath.  Of course, she screamed and cried the entire time.  I got her out after washing her hair and brought her into my bedroom.  This is our usual routine.  Except G was in full hysterics by this time.  She hates to have her hair washed.  Moreover, there is nothing you can do to make her happy when she is mid-tantrum. 

So there she was, throwing herself on the floor, kicking and screaming bloody murder.  My sweet baby girl turns into Freddy Krueger when she's tired and ill.  AnyCalgontakemeaway, I finally managed to get a pull up on her.  But she refused to let me get her dressed.  At this point, I was frustrated.  I spanked her.  With my hand.  On her bottom.  Completely covered with thick, cotton padding from a night time pull up.  Of course, she immediately poured on the hysterics.

Now if you aren't a spanker, I completely understand your opposition.  I've always been on the fence about it myself. I don't really like it, and don't do it very often. I'm more apt to yell. I'm not opposed to using a spanking as a form of discipline in extreme instances, though, and I certainly don't believe a spanking is abuse.  In my opinion, this was an extreme situation so I gave G a spanking.

After that, I was finally able to wrestle on her pajamas.  That's when her daddy came in to "save the day!"  He always does that shit and it pisses me off!  I let him know it, too.  You cannot come in here and rescue her from punishment when she misbehaves!!!  But she'd been throwing a temper tantrum for a good 30-45 minutes by then.  Consequently, I relented.  It was getting too dramatic and way too frustrating.  JP put her to bed, but ended up giving her another spanking. With his hand. On her bottom. Completely covered with thick, cotton padding from a night time pull up. 

All the while, the MIL kept her big, fat ass herself in the recliner.  She never moved!  She never got up.  She has no idea what transpired since her big ass was all the way in the living room sitting comfortably in our recliner!!! 

Furthermore, she never uttered a word about it...UNTIL my husband pissed her off!

I don't have the exact wording, but this is pretty much what was alleged according to the DHS worker who showed up at my house unexpectedly one evening:

1. I am an alcoholic with a long history of alcohol abuse.  WTF?!?!  Are you freakin' serious?  When I was in college, I did like to party and drink.  So eff'n what!  I was over 21 years old and entitled to live how I chose to live.  I had no responsibilities!  Since I've been married with kids, though, I may have a drink once or twice a year.  If you ask my husband, though, that's not nearly enough...  Perve!
2. I beat my children so hard with a spoon that I've left marks.  Again, WTF?!?!  Yes, I do have a spanking spoon.  It's mostly for effect, though.  I use it to threaten.  I rarely pull it out anymore because my kids aren't really afraid.  I can count on one hand how many times I've actually used it to spank (more like to "swat").  Never have I hit hard enough to leave a mark.  I spank to get their attention, NOT to hurt them.
3. My husband is OCD and has anger issues with extreme mood swings.  I will not deny (nor will JP) that my husband is a bit OCD.  He is very routine oriented.  He likes to follow steps and processes.  Pretty harmless OCD, in my opinion.  It may be annoying sometimes, but it is certainly not disruptive to the family.  I will admit, also, that my husband gets mad a lot easier than I do.  Hell, what man doesn't act like a baby from time-to-time?  He is a push-over, though.  He would never, EVER hurt one of our kids.  Would he give a spanking if warranted???  Absolutely!  As far as I know, however, it is not illegal to spank your children.

We were interviewed.  Our kids were interviewed.  The school teachers were interviewed.  Upon investigating, DHS determined there was absolutely NO proof to support the claims.  Case closed!  We were humiliated nonetheless.

As if that isn't enough, that stupid crazy psycho bitch woman has continued to harass our pastor with her incessant calling and crazy messages.  In addition, she's called my husband's aunt, and her sister, daily to dig for information about us.  Our pastor refuses to accept her calls.  Aunt G doesn't have anything to say.  The MIL is pissed because she has no control over the situation.

As I should have suspected, being the nosey-ass busy body and malicious narcissist is, she cannot stand being out of the loop.  She hates when things don't go the way she wants or when people don't do things as she says.  Consequently, I should have known that she'd try to get things stirred up again.

She did.  She called the DHS hotline on us. Again.  We haven't spoken to or seen her in several weeks, but she reported us again.  Luckily, the case worker at DHS called us about it.  Everyone has kind of figured out her little game.   

My husband called his lawyer and spoke with the police department yesterday.  A police report has been filed.  This is definitely harassment.  In addition, the lawyers want us to sue her for slander, libel, and filing a false report. 

Never, in my wildest dreams, did I think I'd ever end up in a People's Court-type situation suing a relative.  I'd love to call the producers of Judge Judy.  For one, we'd probably make the show because of the unbelievability of this story.  And two, I'd love to see Judge Judy rip the MIL a new asshole.  I know it's not very Christian-like, but I would THOROUGHLY enjoy that. 
         

Mother's Day LB Style

It's Mother's Day, and I'm sitting at home with a sore throat, throbbing ears, and thrush all in my mouth!!!  Of course, things are much improved since this morning.  I've been up since 4:00 a.m. with a puking daughter.  I think the puking has finally subsided, but I've had to change her little panties a few times today.  Yes, my little angel used her best outside voice to remind me (and the other guests) in the restaurant after church that she still had "a little di-ree-yuh."    

Nonetheless, it's Mother's Day and it is a wonderful one...as is every day in LB's life.  I may complain about their shenanigans (mostly my husband's shenanigans), but my family rocks my socks!  I never knew how fragile my heart was until I laid eyes on each of them.  I love them more than ice cream and pedicures! 

My son is so tender-hearted and a real "mama's" boy.  I just dare some skank to try and break his heart!  My daughter is breath-takingly beautiful with an independent spirit.  Believe it or not, she, too, is a "mama's" girl.  She is my little mini-me -- cute and sassy and very determined!  Then there is my husband who keeps our lives in check and who worships the ground I walk on.  I wouldn't have it any other way nor would he.  While his chronic OCD and his uncanny ability to kill my online shopping buzz often bring out the homicidal tendencies crazies in me, he takes care of me like no one else (including myself) could ever do.  I give him a hard time, but I love and admire him.  He's the glue that keeps us together. 

I am so blessed to have all of them in my life.  And you know what??  They feel the same way about me!  I'm one lucky woman.  Just check out all my Mother's Day goodies:

My day hasn't only been covered with puke.  It's been filled with hugs, kisses, and wonderful gifts, too!

I'm no rocket scientist, but I'm pretty sure that is his teacher's handwriting.  I recognize those handprints, though.  Excuse the wrinkles.  I wore it to bed last night.  I <3 that little boy!

Here's another one from my son.  The front of the card said "Thumb Thing Special for Mom."  Again, NOT his handwriting, but the painting is totally all him.  Even Monet had to start somewhere.

Here's something from my 4 year old daughter, G.  It's some type of "pie."  It is actually some scented cotton in a pie pan and covered with brown felt to look like a pie.  Clever, but what the heck do I do with it??  The baby girl was so excited to give it to me, and my heart melted to see her beam with pride.

My house smells so pretty.  I got these lovely roses from my own backyard.  Luckily, the rose bushes were here when we bought the house because I can't grow fungus.  That's just too much work!

My children greeted me at 6:00 a.m. with this damn sweet card!  It is from them and my husband though I'm not sure why JP didn't sign it.  Look at my son's name!  Mama is so proud of him.  He messed up his first "E" but thoughtfully scribbled it out with precision.  The baby girl has an unfair disadvantage with her seven-letter name.  She managed a "G", but Daddy had to kick in the rest.  Maybe that's why he didn't sign.  He was spent after writing the remaining six letters in her name.  Regardless, unless my kids sacrificed their weekly Walmart junk allowance for a silly Hallmark card, I know JP purchased the card.  It's the thought that counts, right?

Mother's Day just doesn't get much better than that, now does it??  I hope you all have a wonderful day, too.

SNOW DAY!

Just when I thought I'd had enough cold weather and was actually looking forward to spring, it SNOWS!!!! For the first time this year, we actually have snow on the ground. My son woke up and was so happy to learn that we weren't going to school. And he's got big plans to make a snowman, make some snowballs, ride in a sleigh, ice skate... He's only 4, and I can see the little wheels in his brain spinning as he considers all the uses for snow and ice. Which brings me back to my original thought - I actually love the winter!

Winter is typically one of my favorite seasons. I look forward to it every year in about August when it's 120 degrees in the shade. I love the cute winter clothes in my closet. I love sitting around the house in sweats and socks. I love warm fires and hot chocolate. I love the holidays and Santa and Christmas dinners and delectable desserts... (Why do I always have to think of food?) It makes me think of family get togethers and beautiful Christmas cards from friends I haven't seen in awhile. Winter is full of fun and festivities; who doesn't love it?!?

God really does work in mysterious ways. Just when the cold was making me feel a bit gloomy, I get a little snow to remind me how blessed I am to enjoy such a beautiful day. While this may not be a big deal to some, my kids and I are so happy we get a snow day today! In this part of Tennessee, they don't happen very often. This is the very first snow day of the season, and I plan to enjoy it with my kids.