I Think I'm Losing My Effn' Mind!

This week, I'm pretty sure I surpassed all my "I-suck-at-this-mothering-thing" expectations.  On Wednesdays, I usually bring my daughter to dance class after school.  This past Wednesday, though, I had a faculty meeting.  Mr. OCD and I swapped duties; he'd escort the princess to dance lessons.

Since the meeting didn't last as long as usual, I figured I'd spend a little time at the gym.  After all, I hadn't been for nearly a month.  Instead, I'd been eating Halloween candy and fried chicken.  I thought I'd do my jelly-belly a favor, and sweat a little.  I went to the gym, tanned, and then had a good work out. 

After that, I went home, started supper, a load of laundry (no GTL is complete without it), and decorating a cute little pumpkin for the contest at baby girl's preschool.  At around 5:20 p.m., G and Mr. OCD get home from dance.  Mr. OCD was pleasantly surprised to see me in the midst of domestication.  It's a rare sight these days.  Any way, he walked into the kitchen and asked about my day.  Then he asked, "Where's E?  Did he have a good day, too?"

My heart sank, my draw dropped, and my stomach did a freakin' flip.  I wanted to puke.  "E??  I thought you..."  Holy crap!  I left my damn son at after-school camp.  It was 5:30 p.m. and his ass was still at school.  Of course, all the Leave It to Beaver moments that we were previously experiencing vanished.

Mr. OCD slammed his keys and pounded his fist on the table.  "You left our son?!?!"

I felt like a complete moron.  It's bad enough to be a failure at motherhood, it's even worse to be reminded of your ineptness by Mr. Perfect (aka Mr. OCD).  I wanted to slit my wrists and offer myself as a sacrifice.  I'm fairly certain, at that moment, anything less would be a disappointment to my husband.  It's not enough to accept your mistakes, apologize, and move on.  No, he wants to rehash it over and over again.  He wants me to offer a kidney or my right hand as retribution.

I really did feel bad about it.  When my son got home, I apologized no less than 150 times.  Of course, he could have cared less.  That was just an extra hour and a half of play time with his friend, Skyler.

Do you think this is a sign of Alzheimer's?  Could I be in the early stages?  I've heard that the signs, though subtle, can appear in your 40s.

Lord, I hope I can remember to turn off my flat iron in the morning!

Ode to My Neglected Second Born

I feel bad.  The number of blogs written about my son outweigh the number written about my baby girl.  At least, the good posts. 

Poor G baby.  The second born.  The independent one who tends to be left alone because, well, she's capable of damn-near anything she sets her mind to. 

It's not that I love her any less.  It's not that I'm any less amazed by her.  Her brother, being the first born, is the one that introduces me to the milestones, though.  I revel in his accomplishments because he's the first.  It's my first chance to revel.  Before him, I had no opportunities to beam with pride over a child reading his first real sentence.  My heart swells as a he tracks each word with his finger.  I want to tell the world!  My baby can read! 

Next year (or maybe even this year knowing little Miss Independent), my heart will still swell as she begins to read.  I'll still beam with pride.  More than likely, though, I probably won't be shouting it from the rooftops.  Well, maybe IRL, but not in Bloggyland.  It's unfortunate, but it's been done.

Today, though, my blog is all about G.  She's the first.  I've never received been in such awe.  Sure, I've had teachers brag on my son.  However, the compliments about her have gone beyond mere compliments.  The comments are pure, out-and-out worship! 

My stubborn, independent, dogmatic little girl is kind and nurturing beyond her years.  Last week, her pre-school teacher stopped to talk to me about her.  The teacher began to tell me about how my little girl helped a special needs classmate.  Every day.  She helped him get on the bus.  She helped him off the bus.  She helped him at school, in the classroom. 

This child, who did not speak, began to speak to my little girl.  The teacher went on to say that the parents of the child even inquired about the magnificent changes in their special child.  Ms. Teacher, a wonderfully humble lady, refused to take credit for his accomplishments.  Instead, she told those parents about the bond their son had developed with my G.

As I continually question my parenting style, I forget to recognize the things that are right with my family.  I was glad to be reminded of how good my kids really are.  Both of my children are extremely kind. 

My son would give anyone the shirt off of his back.  And has on more than one occasion.  He may not share with his sister, but he will give his most prized possession to his best buddy of the day.  G's more discreet with her generosity, though.  She is more apt to help someone in need rather than shower her friends with gifts.  She has a beautiful, kind heart nonetheless.  And in the grand scheme of things, isn't that all that matters??? 

*insert deep sigh*  I am one very proud mama.   

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!

Dear Dumb-Ass

Dear Dumb-Ass,

Why are you in my life?  Why do I have to deal with you?  How in the hell did you get your shoes on the right feet this morning?  These are just a few of the nagging questions I'd love to ask but don't out of politeness.  And the love for my nice, safe world.

I do ask, though, that in the future you not subject me to your ridiculous stupidity while I'm in the midst of such severe PMS.  I nearly ate the legs off my kitchen table this afternoon out of frustration.  Your ineptness nearly pushed me over the edge.  Instead of driving to your house and beating you with the stupid stick, I ate an orange-striped Zebra Cake, a Rice Crispy treat, some Cinna-Sticks from Domino's, and 2 brownies.  You should thank me since my fat ass won't!

In closing, please speed up.  You are making my friend homicidal and not very pleasant to deal with first thing in the morning.  I'm sure you are a nice person and all, but, for the love of God, stay AWAY!  I'm just not sure how long I can keep from smacking you upside the head.

Hugs & Kisses & F-bombs,

LB

Technology Gone Too Far

I am usually a believer in justice and the government.  Bitchin' about the ills of welfare?  You won't get that from me.  When Rodney King got an ass whoopin' by the po-po, I was on the side of the law.  Maybe if he'd calmed his ass down, he wouldn't have gotten such a beat down.  When O.J. killed his ex and her boyfriend yet alluded conviction, I never squawked.  If the jury don't get cha, Karma will.  I may sound naive, but I <3 our democracy and all it's little imperfections. 

At least I did.  Until today.

My husband came home with some official mail for me from the City of Millington.  Of course, he broke the law and opened even though IT DID NOT HAVE HIS NAME ON IT (pet peeve #499).  However, I'm too pissed right now to even let my ADD interrupt my rant.  A-hmm.  As I was saying, an official letter in the mail from a neighboring city. 

Do you know what the heck was in said official envelope???  A friggin' speeding ticket!  No, I didn't get pulled over and forget about it.  That, I could stomach.  No, this is a ticket written by a damn computerized camera!  I was in an area where the speed limit drops from 55 to 40.  According to Officer R2-D2, I was going 51 in a 40.

WTF??!!??  Isn't it apparent that I was slowing down?  How do they know my freakin' head wasn't on fire?  Or worse, maybe I was rushing my child to the hospital?  I could have explained myself to a real police officer and possibly batted my eyes and showed some cleavage gotten away with a warning.  Hell, I didn't even know there was a camera in the area!  What was I to do, climb a street pole to be heard??

I'm just pissed about the whole damn thing.  It's a freakin' racket!  I ain't shopping at the Walmart anymore if I have to be on the look out for UFOs (Unidentified Filming Officers). 

Technology has just gone a bit too far!  If that camera is so damn smart, why didn't it capture a pic of my bank account information and get the money all by itself? 

Damn-near fascism...

Amber Alert: Tracie Is Missing!

Anyone seen Tracie from stirfryawesomeness.com?  Her site no longer exists, and I can't send her a message through blogger.  Weird how you get so attached to someone you don't even know, huh? 

If I knew what she actually looked like or where she really lived, I might issue an All Points Bulletin.  Plaster "Missing" posters in her neighborhood.  Get her face on the back of a milk carton.  Something.

Wait.  Call the Center for Missing Bloggers!  I think Tracie's been abducted by a sexual predator or worse...

Did she actually fall from the face of the earth?  Could it be that she's finally proven the world is really flat after all?

Just Because You Can Doesn't Mean You Should

Why do some people have children??  Why do some people adopt children, for that matter????  I truly believe there are people in the world who do so just because it's fashionable or expected.  Rather than have children out of love or to give love unselfishly, they create families because it looks good on a resume or in an ad for political office or gives them status among their peers and community.  Hell, maybe some folks are just sadomasochist who enjoy torturing little helpless human beings.

I don't mean to get on a tirade, but it just pisses me off!  Just this year, I've provided counsel to more than a handful of kids living in some quite disturbing homes.  Yes, I am aware that I must report any neglect or abuse and I do.  But what I'm talking about doesn't "fit" in the category of abuse or neglect according to the law.  Oh, it's abuse all right but not from a legal perspective.

If you hate your husband so much that you fight daily, maybe it's time to move on.  If your house is in constant turmoil because you drink too much, put your kids up for adoption!  If you are constantly moving to get away from a crazed ex-lover, let the kids stay with a cousin or aunt or something.  If your 14 year old wants to skip school and smoke pot with her 38 year old boyfriend, don't let her leave the freakin' house!  Yes, it's easier to just let her do what she wants, but you are hurting her in the long run.  Why not stay home from the Club one weekend and spend time with her?

If one more kid comes to me to complain about his/her shattered life, I just might break down and have to pull out my big can of Whoop Ass!  I am sick of folks treating their kids like disposable butt wipes.  Being a teenager is hard!  They worry so much about wearing the right clothes, avoiding ridicule and harassment, school, boyfriends, siblings, etc.  Isn't that enough without them having to worry about whether or not there will be running water at home???

Dude, I am so NOT going to have perfect kids nor will my children grow up to be the next President.  Give me a break, please - I'm a realist.  However, I'm damn sure going to try my very best to give them a boring, normal home life where they can depend on me to provide for them physically and emotionally.  At the same time, I'm going to offer up a healthy dose of Mama's-going-to-kill-me-if-I-do-this so as to give them a little incentive to do the right thing.  Period.

Parents before you start suggesting counseling and medication for your disturbed son or daughter, why don't you check yourself first?  More times than not, the kids are perfectly fine; it's the parents in desperate need of a lobotomy.  They really are little reflections of the ugliness their parents exude.

Just sayin'.