Is It My Turn?

Maybe my sarcasm at the Universe worked. Maybe it pissed off the Beings that Are enough to prove that I’m not undeserving after all. I don’t care, though. See, my ex-husband called me today asking for my zip + four and for Ellen’s zip + four. He said he was working on some ideas to get the kids and me moved to Maryland by August 1st. Imagine that. Later in the day the kids and I ran out to get our slushies and missed a call from my ex. He’d also sent an email so I read that while his phone rang. He was trying to decide whether or not to drive a pick-up out here and rent a trailer to move us or, if a trailer won’t be big enough, he’ll fly out, rent a moving truck, and drive the truck back for me. Um, wasn’t that what I’ve been saying for the past few weeks? I’m not arguing. For all intents and purposes, it’s his idea.

YEA!!! He asked me to price the trucks, which I did; gave him the lowest price and he told me to reserve it for July 29th. That I did. I’ve got a 16’ Penske truck reserved and ready to move us on July 29th!!!! He’s booking his own flight and said it would be booked tonight but he hasn’t come through just yet. As soon as I see that I’ll believe this is all true. Not that I don’t believe it now but I can always cancel the truck with no penalties; he can’t cancel a flight; it’s solid. Am I excited? Yes I am. I get to be near people I know and love and get to start fresh; I get to find work putting my Bachelor Degree to work for my kids and me; I get to move up in the World; I get my chance!!

At the same time, I’m scared out of my wits. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry or both. I’ve already cried once and it just keeps welling up on me. Where I am is all I’ve known for the past five years. The people at CAPA, the kids’ schools and teachers, my great neighbors (and some pretty shitty ones) – and that’s all about to change. I don’t deal well with change (at least I know where Zach gets it) but I know everything will be fine. I was scared when we all came here from NY as a family, and I managed to make it on my own after Paul left. This is just another step in the process.

So, from now on, instead of me complaining about having nothing to do, I’ll be regaling you all with details of what I’ve packed during the day and what I’ve sold. I’m getting rid of most of the furniture, the washer/dryer, the freezer, stuff like that. I’ll keep the kids’ stuff, bookshelves, dressers, and a few things that had belonged to my parents. That’s it, though. Ellen will be renting us space in her home and my stuff will be going into storage so I want to get rid of as much as possible. The kids and I can always replace items as we need them. It’s easier and cheaper to get rid of it now.

Tomorrow I have some phone calls to make about school enrollment, WIC, foodstamps, etc. Then I have to run to the supermarkets to start collecting boxes and begin the process of packing our lives into cardboard boxes. I also have to give notice up at the management office to solidify the deal. First, though, I need to make sure Paul reserved a plane ticket. That’ll make the whole thing really real. Once it’s all a “go” and everything is in motion, I’ll actually accomplish more than just packing and moving; I’ll get to lose some of my extra 20lbs because I won’t be sitting around all day eating sunflower seeds. That will be totally cool; and I can’t wait for that aspect to take place. Plus, I’ll get to pack while I watch my new TV show next Monday. Yep, things are definitely looking brighter right about now, but I think it might be the tears in my eyes magnifying the light. They’re good tears, though; tears of happiness, relief, possibility for the future, and any other positive thing you can think of. Plus, in a month, for the first time in a long time, I won’t be alone anymore. I can’t ask for more than that.

Until next time…peace to all.

My New Discovery

I got my keyboard working again. First thing after I put the boys on the bus this morning, Dolly and I came in the house, grabbed my keys and ran to K-mart. I got a new keyboard for $11 and change, came home and plugged it in without even fully unwrapping it, got a signal from it, plugged the new one out and the old one in and it worked. Go figure. It looked like there was something on the plug that I cleared away so maybe that was the problem from the beginning. I don’t know and I don’t care. I’ll keep the new one here, just in case, but if the old one still works by Thursday, I’m returning the new one for a refund. As long as I’ve got a keyboard, that’s all that matters, right? Right.

So, I did something exciting today. I know; I can’t believe it myself. I bet you can’t wait to find out what it was. Well, after I made sure my keyboard was working I was on the phone (no big surprise there) and watching the movie “Hair” (again, not a big surprise). After the movie was over I went on the imdb.com to research the movie and read the trivia, goofs, and some of the actors’ acting histories. I’m just curious and like to learn new things all the time, regardless of how meaningless they may be to me. Anyway, one of the actors had played a part in the drama “Third Watch” that I used to watch faithfully. That reminded me to look up a couple of the actors from that show to see if they were in anything new that I might be interested in since CBS cancelled my two favorite shows when they ended this past season.

Lo and behold, I found that Eddie Cibrian is now on “CSI: Miami” which I don’t really watch, and Jason Wiles is on a relatively new show called “Persons Unknown.” Since I’d never heard of it I decided to check out OnDemand to see if the TV show is being replayed there. It was but there were only four episodes listed. Turns out it was the pilot that started June 7 and each of the subsequent episodes up through last night. How cool is that; a brand new show that I can actually watch from the beginning? When I started watching the pilot I didn’t realize that the show was soap-opera-like, where the story continues every week. It’s about seven people who are abducted from their lives and held captive in a deserted hotel with cameras watching their every move. It was actually pretty interesting and I watched all four episodes today; AND I wrote it down on my calendar so I won’t forget to watch it next Monday night at 7:00CST (or is this CDT?); regardless, I’ll be watching it next week when it’s on. If the kids are bugging me I’ll be able to watch it again on OnDemand. BONUS!!

Life is just great, isn’t it? You think you have nothing at all to do: the house is cleaned, the laundry is, almost, caught up, the bills are paid, and you have no packing to do because you’re not moving. All you have to do is sit and stare at the TV all day long because the book you have to read takes some concentration and with Dolly constantly in and out of the house, there is no time to concentrate. So, TV it is. Nothing really exciting, just whatever decent movies I can find to view. Then, suddenly, out of the blue, WHAMMO!! A brand new TV show appears to take the place of the two old ones I can no longer watch. Just when I thought life was turning on me I get hit with this tremendous gift. I have to thank the Universe for this splendid turn of events.

This is not an everlasting gift, mind you; the show is only on once a week. It’s not like a new soap opera that will be on the same time every day with the same story lines being run for the next 40 or more years. I’ll have to settle for just seeing the show on Mondays, but, at least, I have something to look forward to each and every week. When I’m sitting on my ass tomorrow, staring at some movie I’ve already seen umpteen times, and beginning to get bored and frustrated, I’ll close my eyes and imagine how great life will be next Monday evening when “Persons Unknown” starts at 7:00. Aaaahhhh, the joy of it all. The excitement and anticipation just make me quiver; I can’t help it.

I’m sure you can all sense my sarcasm here, and, if you can’t, you need to go back and re-read from paragraph two of the post. I did find the show accidentally, and I did watch all four episodes, and I did find it interesting enough to continue watching it every week. Yes, all of that is true. The obvious sarcasm comes in when I speak of how excited I am and how the Universe is shining down on me again and all the rest of that bullshit. It’s a TV show, folks. I don’t really get that excited over television programs. I may have a favorite or two that I like to watch, and I may get annoyed with people who interrupt me while I’m watching a program, but the shows aren’t the end all, be all of existence.

I have to say that this is actually pretty sad. The boys are at summer school, Dolly is outside playing with friends, and I’m sitting in the house watching TV. Next week, when the boys finish school on July 9th, they’ll be outside playing too and I’ll still be doing the same thing. Part of last summer, and all of the summer before that, I had my next-door neighbor to talk to. Her two kids and my three all played together, as well as with the other kids in the neighborhood. She and I would sit on our stoops from morning until night, only coming in long enough to get our kids to eat. We’d sit and talk all day long. I don’t have that anymore because she moved – to North Carolina!! That was just recent, but how fucked up is that? She and her re-husband and kids moved into a house last summer and out of State a couple of weeks ago, just like they wanted; and I’m still stuck here with no friends, no life, and nothing to do but watch TV. I really am pathetic aren’t I?

Well, in all fairness, this is the first summer I’ve had in a long time where I don’t have anything to do. I just finished school last June; and I knew this summer was going to be boring, I just never imagined it would be this bad. I’m complaining again, aren’t I? I make no apologies so deal with it. If you choose not to deal with it, stop reading. I don’t have any grownups to talk to in person, not very often anyway. If I do happen to capture one, I sometimes have to force myself to stop talking when I see their eyes glaze over after a while. Otherwise I just have Ellen and Joe to talk to on the phone and Joe doesn’t even call me anymore, the fucker. Ellen and I talk all the time, but even we run out of things to say. We do have lives outside of the phone, ya know.

In any case, I just wanted to fill you all in on the super exciting day I had today with the discovery of the new TV show. You may like it too, just tune in next Monday on NBC according to your time zone. I know I’ll be watching, even if it is just to see Jason Wiles, the babe that he is. Yea, yea – laugh it up, go ahead. I’ve gotta have something to dream about since all of my realistic dreams keep getting shot out of the air. Maybe next week I’ll have a different dream; for now I’m sticking with Jason.

Until next time…peace to all.

Nothing To Do

I didn’t have anything to do today other than laundry. Dolly and I ran to the supermarket this morning to mail a small birthday gift to Ellen, and to get some milk. Then we went to Dollar General to get a garbage pail for the upstairs bathroom; last night I broke the one that was in there. Not on purpose, mind you, it was strictly an accident. After I finished last night’s post I decided to go to bed and while I was in the bathroom getting ready I noticed the wall hangings I had in there. There were three ceramic hangings, about the size of the palm of my hand, that had inspirational sayings on them. I bought them when we moved in here because I had nothing to decorate the bathroom wall other than a clock. They each had a saying like “The past can’t be changed but the future can be whatever we want it to be,” or something similar. There were three different sayings all telling me how great things can be.

Because of the realizations I made yesterday, and because I’m so tired of allowing myself to be let down, I got angry and started to cry. Then I looked at the wall hangings and got angrier, first at them, then at the Universe, or whatever it is that people claim guide us through life. I couldn’t really yell because the kids were asleep very close by so I did the best I could through gritted teeth and I grabbed the wall hangings and through them in the garbage pail. The pail was hard plastic, not the flexible kind, and one of the ceramic crappies hit the side of it pretty good breaking a big chunk out of it. I couldn’t leave it like that so I had to replace it today. It’s just money, who gives a shit. Besides, it was only $2.75.

Afterward we went to the firework tent to get the kids something fun for the holiday. I just got basic kids stuff – sparklers, smoke bombs, those little snappy things that you throw on the ground and they make a pop, and some snakes. They’ll have a good time. Then we came home and she went outside to play with her friends. I did a load of laundry and then sat on the sofa. When I say I had nothing to do, I mean it. I have no research to do anymore, no phone calls to make, no phone calls to answer. I didn’t even go on Facebook and I rarely get email.

I spent the day watching a “Ghost Whisperer” marathon on the SyFy (they changed the spelling) channel. While I was watching I got the inspiration to learn a new trick. I went to the kitchen, got a couple of wine glasses, filled them with different amounts of water and learned how to make them “sing” by running my finger around the edge of them. That was pretty cool. I’d never tried it before, and it took me a while to get it right, but I did it. I’m sure it’ll take practice before I can be really good at it, but that’s okay; I’ve got nothing but time for the next seven weeks. I wonder what other tricks I can learn.

The “Ghost Whisperer” shows were pretty good and I hadn’t even seen them all so that was a bonus. I thought I’d seen all of them but I must have missed some along the way. I don’t know why I bother watching them, though, because I have my own ghost to talk to; he just won’t talk back. He sits on the staircase and occasionally peeks through the railing at me while I watch TV. I’ve asked him to show himself more clearly but he won’t. I’m not sure if it’s the same little boy Dolly used to see or not. His name was either Kevin or Gavin – she was only two so she didn’t say his name very clearly. She used to talk to him, though, and he napped in her bed. One day he just left; and not because of anything I said, I completely encourage open-mindedness. I believe in ghosts and stuff like that. I’m just losing faith in a guiding higher power and the rest of that bullshit. I’m not going there, though. I’ll just talk about my ghost.

He’s not the first one I’ve encountered either. I’ve had some in the past. My ex-husband told me that I used to sit up in bed and talk to people standing in the bedroom doorway. I also awoke one night to find a lady from many years ago – she wore her hair in a bun and a black dress that buttoned up to the chin – standing in my bedroom mirror. I sat up, asked her if I could help her, and, when she didn’t say anything, I just told her I was going back to sleep if she wasn’t going to talk; and I did. She just stood there staring at me, not saying a word. Lots of freaky things happen to me, unfortunately nothing really exciting that I could use to make money. That would be cool, wouldn’t it?

In any event, I’ll just have to sit here and search the Internet for other tricks I can learn. I have to go now because my keyboard suddenly quit working; I'm typing this last bit by "inserting" symbols one at a time. That's my luck. Until next time...peace to all.

It's My Fault, But That's Okay

It was my fault. I never should have gotten my hopes up – again. You know how people say you should always hope for the best? Well, I learned a long time ago not to do that. Whenever I get my hopes up about something I’m always let down in one way or another. It’s always happened and it hasn’t stopped. I was just dumb enough to think that, just once in my life, things would go the way I wanted them to go. Boy was I wrong.

I started planning to move to Maryland last October; I’ve got the emails I started sending out then; that’s how I know. It was October, a full eight months ago that I came up with a plan to make the lives of my kids and me better. Apparently, though, we are undeserving of such a better life. I’m not feeling sorry for myself, just stating a fact; this is what is and I can’t change it. I can’t get anyone to help me with this bullshit, either. I can’t save any money on my own because I don’t get but a little over $900 a month in child support which barely covers our bills. I can’t work because I have nobody to help watch my kids, and I can’t afford daycare. If I did make any money, my rent would go up, my foodstamps would go down, and I’d still have nothing left and nobody to babysit.

I’ve called and/or emailed every major moving company I can find in the phone book and none of them are willing to help a low-income family relocate. None of the local agencies that help low-income families in other areas (rent assistance, gas, electricity, etc.) work with moving companies to help people like me relocate, either. I’ve called every one of them that I can think of and they either have no information on any agency that does such a thing, or they don’t respond at all. Remember my post the other night about business etiquette? There ya go. My ex-husband, who also said he wants to help with the move won’t even commit to an amount or anything that he’s willing to contribute. So this is the deal; I’ve come up with an alternate plan. I’m not moving, at all. My kids will grow up here in Independence, MO.

I’m waiting for one last-ditch attempt to get some help from a moving company. I called them last Thursday; they said they wanted to help me, and would have the man in charge of what I need call me, but he never did. When I called back on Friday I was told that two of the managers were out of the office so it was a bit busy, but that he would get back to me as soon as he had the time. I’m not putting any stock in it, though; I’ve already gotten my hopes up and squashed about the move since last October, and enough is enough. All my life I’ve gotten my hopes up thinking that things would get better, but they never did. My life with my mother never got better; I hoped my relationships would get better; they didn’t. Then, when I met my ex-husband I thought my life would be bliss and it was the worst relationship I’ve ever had; I went from mediocre in one relationship to complete and utter horror and torment with my ex. Now I’m single/divorced and am content to stay that way. Why bother getting my hopes up when I’ll only be let down, again? Besides, living here, there isn’t much opportunity for me to meet anyone anyway. That’s fine with me because the relationship would probably be worse than the one I had with my ex.

Anyway, I’ll wait for this one last company to get back to me but I won’t count on receiving that call, and, if they do call, I won’t count on a lot of help being offered. I even have my information out to a friend who works for a similar company, but, since I’m not on any route they might have, there’s a 0% chance that her branch can help. That’s okay. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that the kids and I will be here next year. School starts in another seven weeks, or so, and the kids are already registered and have had their physicals. Dolly will be in her second year of Headstart, and Ty and Zach will be in third and second grades respectively. Since I have tags on my car now I can volunteer at both schools. I figure I’ll do Tuesdays and Thursdays at the boys’ school like I did this past year, and I’ll do Mondays and Wednesdays at Dolly’s school. Friday’s she doesn’t have school so we’ll just be home cleaning the way we always do.

Next year, all three kids will be in the same school because Dolly will move up to Kindergarten. With them all in school at the same time, I’ll have the mornings free to work. I’m sure I can get a job in an office somewhere doing part-time whatever. I’ve got a degree in Paralegal Studies but probably won’t be able to use it by then because three years will have passed since I took my last courses of study. I earned it in June of 2009 and Dolly will start Kindergarten in August of 2011. Okay, so it’s only two plus years but still, who’ll want to work with someone who hasn’t worked at all in over ten years, and who’s got a degree in something that they’ve never utilized? I’m betting on nobody. No big deal again; I was an admin/recept for a long time. That type of work never goes out of style.

See, I can do what everyone tells me to do. I’m thinking positive. What’s that adage about making lemonade out of lemons? Well, that’s what I’m doing. I’ll be living here so I may as well make the most of it, right? Yep. It’s my fault, like I said, that I got my hopes up to begin with, and that I let the kids get their hopes up. I take full responsibility for it. I never should have done that and it’ll be the last time I do it. From now on, I’m not telling the kids about anything until the minute it arrives. That’ll save us all some heartache and disappointment. I’ve had enough, the kids have had enough, and it’s time we all learned to live in what everyone else calls “reality.” We’re here to stay and we’ll have to learn to be happy about it. Like I said, I’ve got one last-ditch effort out there, but, if we’re going to move by the end of July, I have to give notice to the management office by this Thursday, July 1. That’s not going to happen. Hey, shit happens and we all have to learn to live with it. I have for 42 years; so another 42 won’t matter much, now, will it?

Until next time…peace to all.

Real Is Just Fine With Me

Before I sat down tonight to start typing, I had to get my bowl of sunflower seeds and my ashtray, to catch the empty shells. I quit smoking two months ago this past Monday and now I can’t stop eating sunflower seeds. It gives me something to do when I have nothing to do but I’m thinking there has to be something else to do that doesn’t contain so much fat. I can exercise, yes, but it’s been really hot lately, like 108 with the heat indices, so jogging on the rebounder just doesn’t seem appealing. I’d like to go walking early in the mornings but I’d have to take Dolly with me and she doesn’t walk all that quickly so I’m thinking I’d have to walk four times the distance slower to get the benefits of a shorter walk that’s faster. I hope that makes sense; it did in my head.

I’m just sick of looking at myself these days. It’s not that I sit around eating all day, because I don’t; and I generally don’t eat unhealthy portions of food at meal times. I just think I’d burn more calories and build more muscle if I had something to do besides sit here all day long. Packing to move would be a great start if the Universe would just comply. {Hint, hint} There are only so many times the house can be cleaned and laundry just gets really boring after a while. I don’t mind exercising, I just need something to do that won’t get monotonous, and that won’t paralyze me in this heat.

I used to think that going to a gym would be beneficial but found that to be untrue. I never had anyone to go with me so my workouts would be really long and boring; and the one time a gym actually took measurements to work out an exercise plan for me, the whole batch of measurements they took from about 50 of us got misplaced so we were screwed and left to our own devices. Besides, I don’t think those machines do much unless you work out on them all day, every day. The way I see it, the guy, woman, or whomever, that invented the step machine (the Stairmaster thingy) lied. I go up and down my stairs here at home, on average, about thirty times a day. That’s 14 steps up and down from the main floor to the upstairs at least 60 times – that’s 840 steps; sometimes more, sometimes less. I should have the ass of a 15 year old but I don’t. Nope. My ass is that of a 42-year-old woman who has had three kids. It’s got no shape whatsoever other than flat and jello-like.

What’s ironic is that, while I was in the kitchen making dinner tonight, Ty was watching Michael Jackson videos on MTV and a commercial came on during the break. Remember when MTV didn’t have commercials, and only played music videos? It’s a shame that changed with the times because I used to love MTV. Anyway, a commercial came on for mail order panties. I didn’t get the name of them but I could hear the commercial talking about how the panties lift and shape your ass. Get one pair for only $19.95, and if you act now you get another pair for no extra cost, just pay shipping and handling…blah, blah, blah… So after dinner I Googled the commercial and what I found is that the commercial was for “Booty Pop” panties.

Gee, what a catchy name. These mail order underwear are bikini-like briefs with special pads arranged in the upper part of the ass to make your booty look naturally rounded. The panties are 95% cotton and 5% spandex, and the pads are not removable. When I saw the commercial on the website (www.buybootypop.com), the images of the before and after shots made my jaw drop and I was, literally, speechless. Each skinny-as-a-rail woman went from having an average-looking ass, something completely natural, to having a suddenly swollen-like ass that looked deformed and unnatural. I kid you not. Why in the world would I want to look completely natural in every way except for a bulbous ass that calls attention to itself, and not in a good way, to my mind? The name says “Booty Pop” and that’s exactly what it looks like – an ass that’s about to pop.

I had another thought about them, too. The ad compares the panties to a padded bra and the way the bra makes us look shapelier. To me, there is a big difference; if you see the underwear, you’ll understand what I mean. I’ll give an example to illustrate my point. Say I’m out with my guy (you’ll have to indulge me here since we all know I don’t have a guy in my life right now) and we’re slow dancing. If he gets frisky and runs a hand over my boob, he’ll feel my bra, of course, but won’t feel any odd padding within; it’ll just feel rounded as if the bra/boob is one entity (no pun intended). If he reaches down and grabs my ass, however, he’ll run his hands over two conspicuously placed pads, stitched into the underwear, and sitting right at the top of my butt cheeks to make my ass look more rounded. Think if a gauze-padded injury being covered by a pair of spandex pants. Got a visual now? Wow, how utterly strange and curious and bizarre. I know I’d make a run for it if I felt that on his ass.

Besides, all that phony crap in clothing to make us look more “natural” and appealing is just crap. If a guy were to see me in a padded bra, and waist cinching, tummy flattening jeans with the butt popping undies underneath, he’d be getting a completely false vision of what I really look like, right? If the time comes for me to ever remove those clothes in front of him, how disappointed is he going to be when the “real” me is seen? I’d say really disappointed, and that’s not fair. When I dress, I don’t try to impress, and I don’t try to falsify what’s underneath. Exercising to get in shape is one thing, but making ‘what is’ look like something it isn’t is completely different, to my way of thinking.

I also don’t wear make-up; I used to but gave it up when it got to be too much trouble. I don’t have anything against make-up, and still wear it on very special occasions. I also think it’s fine for anyone who wants to wear it as long as it’s not over done. I do color my hair to get rid of the grey and to even out the color. I don’t really have a natural hair color – it’s blonde, auburn, or brown depending on the person viewing it – so I color it all one color and there is no mistake. But I don’t hide the fact that I color it, and if a guy asked me, I’d tell him. I actually had a friend argue with me one time when I said I’d go on a first date without getting all snazzied up beforehand. She laughed at me and said, “Oh, stop; you’d put on make-up and you know it.” I actually told her that I wouldn’t because I don’t like make-up and I won’t go out looking different than usual. My first meeting with a guy will be me without make-up so why change it just for a date? Quite honestly, I’d prefer a first date take place first thing in the morning. If a guy can like me the way I look when I first wake up – baggy T-shirt, baggy shorts, hair in a messy ponytail, no make-up, probably a little puffy, and definitely a little cranky – then we’ve got a good start to the relationship.

So I will change my appearance, the right way, by exercising, eating properly, and doing what I can to look like my most natural self. No stuffing, puffing, padding, painting, lifting, pulling, plugging, tugging, or anything that can’t be done naturally (exercise) in my own living room or out in public. Hell, doing all that false crap would just make me disappointed in myself once I went to take a shower and saw the “real” me. What a let down. Eventually I’ll get my body to look the way I want it without any artificial means; and in the meantime, I’ll just make fun of everyone who does falsify the goods. Laughing at others boosts my spirits and makes me more determined to be me. What you do is your choice but, remember, if it looks too fake I may laugh at you; and I may not hide my laughter.

Until next time…peace to all.

It's Too Late For This Tonight

Why is it that my kids only allow me to find out what their bad choices of the day were right when they’re supposed to be going to bed and I’m supposed to be sitting down to relax? Tonight I let the kids play outside extra long figuring they’d come in the house, get ready and go to bed, and fall asleep immediately. I was almost right; but I know, “almost” only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades – yeh, yeh, yeh. They did come in the house and get ready for bed, though; without any argument, either. That’s when I found out what two of them had done earlier in the day but hadn’t mentioned to me.

I walked into my room to change into the shorts and T-shirt I sleep in and noticed a bright pink, sticky-but-soft-to-the-touch substance on my carpet, on one of my window screens, and all over inside the bottom of the window frame. Knowing right away who the culprit was, I called Dolly into the room and asked her to identify the unknown substance. “It’s yogurt,” she almost whispered. Yogurt in the plastic tube that had been frozen when I’d given it to her was now smeared on my carpet and my window. Fuck!!! I came down here to the kitchen to get a rag. I wet it in hot water and returned to my bedroom. The yogurt didn’t come up as readily as I thought it might. Whatever came off on the first swipe needed to be plucked off the rag and thrown in the garbage, so I walked into the bathroom and turned on the hot sink tap while I pulled the sticky yogurt off the rag and threw the clumps in the garbage.

Then I tried to rinse the rag but noticed that the water level in the sink was rising and there were small, generic Fruit Loops floating in the water. Since all the kids were eating the cereal a couple of hours earlier, but only one had brought it upstairs, I called Ty into the bathroom to inquire as to why he’d thrown his cereal down the sink drain. His answer: “Because I forgot to throw it down the toilet.” He didn’t forget; he was warned that, if he was going to take the amount of cereal he took, he was going to eat all of it. If he’d thrown the balance in the toilet, there might still be pieces floating that I’d see and he’d be busted. However, since he decided to use the alternate method of disposal, he still got busted because he’s not privy to the fact that cereal clogs sink drains. Now, I didn’t let him know that I know why he poured it down the drain; it’s enough that I’m aware without making him feel worse about what he did.

Anyway, I came back downstairs to get my big jug of vinegar and a new box of baking soda to try to unclog the drain. The vinegar got all over my hand, and the sink was alive with the volcanic mixture bubbling through the nasty cereal clog in its way, yet the water still didn’t drain. Great; I was forced to wait until the water slowly drained out of the sink so I could do the mixture all over again without the water in the way. In the meantime, I still needed a way to get the yogurt off of my window. I sent Dolly down to the kitchen to get me my toughest cleaner and then again to get the paper towels. I sprayed the yogurt and tried to wipe but it wasn’t budging. So, I sent Dolly back down the stairs to get a butter knife so I could scrape up the gooey crap. That worked but it was still a pain in the ass. I scraped it all up then sprayed again and wiped with more paper towels. One mess down, another to go.

Back in the bathroom the sink still hadn’t drained so I plugged the overflow hole with a rag and tried to plunge it a bit. Lots of pressure but that friggin’ clog just wouldn’t move. So I decided to come back downstairs and figure out what to write for tonight’s blog. Since I couldn’t think of anything I read Tracy’s blog first. She’s having trouble at home and I feel really bad that I have no sound advice to offer her. I know things will get better for her; it’s just tough seeing my friends going through rough times. When I finished reading and commenting on hers, I started mine; and here we are. Right now I need to run back up to the bathroom to see if the sink is completely drained – it only started an hour-and-a-half ago. Let’s take a look, shall we?

Okay, fifteen minutes later I’m back. I went upstairs to check the sink, which was completely drained. So I poured the rest of the box of baking soda down the drain and another quart, or so, of vinegar behind it. My sink was bubbling and hissing and doing whatever it was supposed to be doing to get rid of the nasty clog. I watched it for a while and it was quite mesmerizing, I must say. There was a puddle of the vinegar in the sink, since it won’t drain yet, that reminded me of a puddle outside when there is a really light rain; I can sometimes see little bubbles rising to the top, almost like fish bubbles in a pond. This wasn’t fish or rain, though; it was the baking soda that had lightly dispersed in the sink. From the drain hole, though, there was a steady stream of thousands of tiny bubbles all rising to the top just chugging away at the clog down in the depths of the drain. Occasionally there was a really big air bubble that would glug-glug its way to the top. Cool. That tells me the mixture is working and getting beyond the clog to allow that air to escape.

I don’t know yet if it will completely work, but when I go upstairs to get ready for bed, I’ll pour some boiling water down the drain (I’ll boil a kettle before I go up there) to finish the unclogging process. I just shouldn’t have to be doing this right now. I should be relaxing and blogging and deciding what I’ll be doing tomorrow rather than reminding myself to boil a kettle of water before I go to bed. Can it wait until tomorrow morning? Sure it can, but if the kids get up before I do and use the sink, everything I’ve done so far tonight will have been in vain. It has to be finished tonight, and I have to hope that it will work; the clog seemed really tough. If the baking soda/vinegar method doesn’t work, tomorrow I’ll take a walk up to Quik Trip to get a can of coke; if it can clean rust off of metal, it’ll definitely unclog a drain. Besides, I’ve used it before so I know it works; and it’s cheaper than drain cleaner.

I just wish my kids would let me know what they’ve done before the day is over so I don’t have to be here, at 11:30 at night, undoing whatever it is that they’ve done. Then again, if Dolly and Ty hadn’t done what they did tonight, I wouldn’t have this as my blog topic and I’d be sitting here telling you about the tattoos I’ve got and the tattoos that I still want to get. Now that would be interesting, right? “Yes, Beth, it would be about as interesting as your step-by-step house-cleaning process.” See, I knew you’d like it; maybe I’ll discuss both tomorrow night – my tattoos and my house-cleaning methodology. Then again, maybe I’ll think of something else that will actually hold your attention.

Until next time…peace to all.

Business Etiquette Sucks

I think I’m missing something with the rules of business etiquette today. I only stopped working in October of 2001, just before Ty was born; I can’t believe things have changed that much. I worked from the time I was 16 - my very first job was as a receptionist at an animal hospital – until I was 34, and my job at the time was admin/recept at an advertising firm. All of my working years, with the exception of about four of them, were spent sitting behind a desk, dealing, in some form, with the customers of the business; whether it was meet-and-greet or customer service the rules were always the same. Today the rules seem to have changed.

When I was working customer service, it was unacceptable to leave someone on hold for more than two minutes. If the information couldn’t be found I took the customer’s name and number and called back as soon as I found the information, and it was generally that same day. If I couldn’t get the information that day, I called the customer anyway to inform him or her that I was still looking and that I would call back the following day. I never ignored anyone and always made sure the customer knew I hadn't forgotten him or her.

When I was working as an admin/recept the same rule applied for leaving someone on hold – if the employee the customer wanted was unavailable I offered to get someone else who may be able to assist, if I couldn’t get the answers myself; or I offered the customer voice mail of the person originally being contacted. I even offered to take a message personally. It was the customer’s choice, not mine, to make. If I was asked to take the message, I always took enough information – first and last name, phone number, extension, date, time and exact reason for calling – so that the recipient of said message would be able to return the phone call having all the requested information at hand. The bonus was that, when someone called any office where I was employed, a real live person answered the phone when it rang, provided it was during office hours.

If the office had a bank of switchboards, and one of the operators was at lunch, one of us customer service agents filled in for a while. If an operator was out sick, one of us filled in all day, sometimes rotating, sometimes not. If the office had an admin/recept (that’s an administrative assistant/receptionist in case you were wondering), it would be me, and I answered the phones from wherever I was in the office, even if I was standing near someone else’s desk. If I was out to lunch, the incoming calls were transferred to someone else for an hour. If I was out sick, someone else sat at my desk for the day. If the office had no admin/recept and the phones were strictly answered by us customer service associates, any one of us could pick up at any time it rang. Wherever I worked, there was never a time that the office was open for business that an automated answering system was employed. Why has it become so popular these days?

Are offices so busy that their receptionists can’t even take the time to answer a phone personally? I thought that was their job; it was my job when I did it. Even if I had multiple lines to answer and four or five rang within seconds of each other, I’d very quickly pick up each line, greet the caller, say the name of the company, and ask the caller to hold. For instance, “Good morning, Smith and Jones, please hold,” then I’d push the hold button and pick up the next line repeating the process until I had all the ringing lines on hold. I’d then start back at the first line and greet each caller again, this time giving my name and asking how I could help. Nobody was ever left on hold for more than two minutes, though.

Today, however, I’m lucky if a live person actually answers the phone, and, if one does, I’m lucky to get to talk without immediately being put on hold for, at least, five minutes, sometimes longer. If the office is so busy that a single receptionist can’t, at least, ask me my reason for calling within a minute or two, that office needs an additional receptionist. The same holds true for an office that occasionally has to rely on its automated answering service because the live receptionist is too busy to answer the phone. If he or she gets so busy that the phones get neglected, there is a problem that needs to be addressed.

Additionally, if your office has an automated answering system in place so there is no need for a receptionist, you should make it relatively easy for the caller to get the information needed. I don’t want to call your company for the first time and listen to a 60-second speech about what information I can find on the Internet before I’m offered the chance to speak to a live person. If I’m calling is generally because I couldn’t find the info on the Net and would like some assistance. I know there are people who don’t utilize the resources of the technological age, but even they shouldn’t be subjected to that boring, monotone “You can also find us on the Web at…” crap. I just want to speak to a person and having to press this to get here, and then press that to get there, and then press that to get yonder, and then enter my account number, and then wait on hold for 15 minutes only to have to repeat my account number for the live person who finally answers gets a little, no a LOT, frustrating.

When that live person does answer, it’s rare that he or she is understandable because he or she doesn’t speak the same language I do. Then I end up getting more frustrated. If the person does happen to speak my language, he or she is usually rude and doesn’t even try to hide it. If I was ever rude to a customer, my ass would have been chewed out by any boss who happened to employ me. I can’t say that I was ever rude to a client, though, because I never got in trouble. Even if I was having a shitty day, I’d answer the phone with a smile on my face and would help the client the best I could, and within a reasonable amount of time. I’m tired of calling somewhere to get information and having someone take my name and number and say they’ll get back to me, but never do. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that it took longer for you to get the information than you anticipated but I expect you to contact me within twenty-four hours, at least. Anything longer than that, without a quick call of explanation, is just plain rude and unprofessional.

Nowadays, though, with email as popular as it is, business people don’t even bother to ignore me personally; they just send my email directly to the Recycle Bin. I’m going to guess that’s what they do because more than one company has ignored me lately. Just the other day I contacted a real estate agent about some information on a property in MD. She emailed me to see what I was looking for, even though I had requested a phone call (rude of her to ignore that), and, when I responded with the information I needed, I never heard from her again. She didn’t even have the manners to write back saying there was nothing she could do for me. Gee, that’s not too rude. I would never have gotten away with that when I was working.

I just don’t get it. Are businesses so technologically advanced that they think they can just ignore the real people on the outside of the business walls; or just treat us like faceless entities who hand over hard-earned money? What is up with that? When I get my business going, I plan on answering the phones, or, when the business is large enough, having someone answer them – live and in person – and then treating my clients as if they actually mean something to me. I don’t plan on ignoring anyone, whether I can assist them or not. If I can’t help, I’ll try to help them find someone who can. My clients/customers will be paying my bills so they will mean a great deal to me. As such, they will be treated as if they mean a great deal to me, and they will know it.

Treat me like crap and, not only will I take my business elsewhere, but I will also tell everyone I know that you treated me like crap and that they shouldn’t utilize the services of your establishment either. I did that once today and will gladly do it again tomorrow and the day after that, and so on. Treat me like I’m important to your business and I’ll be happy to pass on a good word about you to anyone and everyone. It’s your choice; you’re not the only business in town that does what you do. I’m sure your competitor would love to get my business; and that phone is answered by a live person with a smile on her face.

Until next time…peace to all.

It's None of Your Business

I’m having a problem with two issues lately: The first with parents who hinder their children’s decision making capabilities; the second with people who feel the need to openly criticize parents who don’t hinder their children’s decision making capabilities. If that doesn’t make sense, don’t worry, I’ll explain.

I allowed my seven-year-old son, Zach, to get his ears pierced this past weekend; not one ear, but both ears, because that’s what he wanted. He’s seven and should be able to make some decisions for himself about his own life and his own personal being. I didn’t let him jump off the roof of our townhome, I didn’t let him run down the middle of the highway, and I didn’t allow him to take up smoking or get a tattoo. I let him get both of his ears pierced. What is the big fucking deal?

Last night my ex-husband, the kids’ dad made a post on Facebook stating that he is not happy about his seven-year-old son getting both of his ears pierced. My first problem with the post is that Dad should call Mom if he has a problem with something in Zach’s household. He should not post it on a public forum. I know why he did it, though; it was for the attention he would receive from his friends, and it worked – sort of. I’m thinking he didn’t get as many responses as he would have liked. The few he did get were directed more toward me than the issue of the pierced ears: There was a “Yikes,” a “Both? Oy,” and an “Oh shit.” One said, “Hell NO!” another said, “Interesting judgment. (I’ll take it not yours)” and yet another said, “Oh wow, he’s so young. I can’t believe that she did that. Did you get any heads up?”

I waited all day for him to respond to these people just to see what he’d have to say about it. I’m going to assume that he chose not to respond in writing because I’d be able to see what he wrote. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he responded to that last comment in person or over the phone. When the night was through, though, I did respond to them all with a simple, but polite, response. I wrote, “’She’” would like to thank everyone for their comments, but, really, this isn’t any of your concern. This was Zach’s choice, he’s been asking for two years, and as long as Zach is healthy and happy, that’s all that should matter to anyone, including his dad. Pierced ears are inconsequential in the grand scheme of things; and they’re not permanent, dangerous, or life-threatening. Have a wonderful evening.” That’s not too bad, right? Funny, but there hasn’t been a response to what I wrote. Go figure.

Zach didn’t see the posts but I find it interesting that he came in the house today asking if he could take out the earrings. When I asked why (and I’ll admit I was angry because I’d driven across town and spent $20 on it after all his begging) he told me that he didn’t realize that it was so much work (cleaning them a couple times a day), that he’d have to leave them in so long (he was warned it would be six weeks), and a couple of other things. Then he got down to brass tacks and said, “Well, Dad didn’t sound happy about it when I told him.” That, pretty much, made me explode. Who is Dad to impart his opinion on his son when Zach’s pierced ears aren’t hurting or affecting anyone? That pissed me off like you would not believe.

That’s what I meant by the issue of parents who hinder their children’s decision making capabilities. Zach decided he wanted his own ears pierced. Nobody put him up to it. Am I thrilled about it; not really, but it’s what he wanted. I didn’t voice my negative feelings and when Zach asked if I would like it if he got his ears pierced I told him that it’s important that he make that decision on his own. He did and, honestly, Zach looks good with it and can carry two earrings. Tyler would never be able to do that; his face is much softer than Zach’s. Today Zach explained to me that Dad “sounded real disappointed when I told him and just said, ‘Oh, okay.’” He was almost in tears while he was telling me this.

Their dad has always done that to them and it makes me sick. When Tyler was three-going-on-four, we’d come home from a support group where Ty had played with a doll while in the playcare for two hours. Even though I don’t listen to their phone calls with their dad I distinctly heard Dad say, “Daddy doesn’t like it when you play with dolls, Ty. Dolls are for girls and Daddy doesn’t want you playing with dolls anymore. Okay, Ty?” That child’s eyes welled up with tears so fast that I almost cried. He agreed with his dad and hung up the phone; then looked at me with teary eyes and a crackling voice and repeated what his dad had said. I explained that it was okay for him to play with anything he wanted as long as it wasn’t hurting him or anyone else. I further said that, if Dad didn’t want him playing with dolls at Dad’s house, then Ty shouldn’t; but he was absolutely permitted to play with dolls outside of Dad’s house. That made him feel a lot better and he cheered up quickly.

That’s exactly what Dad did to Zach with the earring thing. He used a tone of voice (Zach imitated it) that showed Zach Dad’s utter disappointment in Zach, completely crushing the child’s feelings of excitement and pride in his new look. That’s what Zach has been thinking about since Sunday night, and why he’s been in a mood – because of his dad’s tone of voice over the phone. Zach and I discussed it today and I told him that nobody’s opinion of his earrings is as important as his own opinion; and that he should do what he wants to do regardless of what anyone else thinks. Then I told him that, if he was so worried about what other people think, he should feel okay about the earrings because I love them and all the friends of ours who I sent pictures to (and I named names) also loved them. These are people Zach puts a lot of trust in and whose words hold weight with him. Then I looked up WWE wrestlers and we found out that one of his favorite wrestlers also wears two earrings. Zach feels much better now.

Good thing, too, or I might have said something to his Dad. Not only did Dad have the nerve to, once again, hurt his child, but he had the nerve to discuss the problem publicly in an attempt to get in a little ex-wife bashing. Remember the “I can’t believe that SHE did that” comment? You’re funny. See, she has a name; she didn’t “do” anything but allow her son to make a personal decision; and she doesn’t have to give anyone a heads up about her business. Dad had a heads up for two years now; and I will verbally kick the shit out of you if you butt into my business again. What goes on in my house is my business and just because your opinion doesn’t agree with mine, doesn’t make mine wrong. Deal with it. Besides, the stories you’re getting from my ex-husband about me are probably 99% incorrect; I’m not the unfit mother he makes me out to be or I wouldn’t still have my kids.

In any case, before you jump to conclusions next time, simply based on his side of the story, why don’t you take into account all of the factors and, if you can’t do it by yourself, contact me and I’ll fill you in on the rest. That goes for any of the rest of you who feels the need to make a negative comment about me, a person you don’t know from Eve. I’ve got nothing to hide and will tell you anything you want to know, but I won’t accept you bashing me for any reason. None of you is the perfect parent; and given my current circumstances, I know I’m doing a helluva job with my kids. You don’t agree; I’m so sorry to hear that. However, you should really keep your opinions to yourselves and mind your own business.

Until next time…peace to all.

Not Just PMS

I’ve got some catching up to do tonight. I said I’d explain about my crankiness on Sunday but would have to see how Monday went first. Then, last night I just made a quick post about making my own changes occur so I’m back on track tonight. I thought Sunday’s crankiness might have been a bit of PMS, which it may still be; but I also know that it was the idiot people I was encountering during the day, and I just couldn’t shake it.

I had to drop Tyler off at a friend’s house so he could attend a birthday party. Since he was doing something fun I decided to take Zach and Dolly to do something fun. Since I’d earned extra money babysitting I thought I’d take them to get their ears pierced since they’d been asking me; Zach for over two years now. They were very excited so I called Wal-Mart ahead of time to find out when the ear piercing lady would be there. She’s not there over the weekend. That was my first irritation; I couldn’t get my kids’ ears pierced when it was convenient for me. What the fuck is up with that?

So we headed to the mall where there is a Piercing Pagoda. I called them in advance to find out what the hours were. Lucky for us they are 12-6; since we were dropping Ty off just before noon, we’d get to the mall just when the store was opening. The girl who answered the phone also told me they were having a BOGO half off sale. YEA!!! Not so YEA after all. We arrived and found out that the earrings we had to choose from started at $35. Did I say “started” – yes I did. They STARTED at $35 and went all the way up to $60. Are you fucking kidding me? For a pair of starter earrings? Even with the BOGO it would have cost me, with tax, about $55 to get both kids’ ears pierced. Someone lost a fucking cog somewhere if they think I’m paying that kind of money.

I just blankly looked at the girl behind the counter and told her we’d be going to Wal-Mart, even though I knew we wouldn’t. We went to an accessories store that did free ear piercing. How much are the earrings? “Anywhere from $35 - $60 depending on which earrings you choose.” The last part of the sentence was actually spoken to my back since I’d already started walking out of the store. We went to one more place that did ear piercing and there was already a boy about Ty’s age (9) in the chair so I had Zach and Dolly watch. Then I asked how much it was and the girl gave me a plastic box with the different types of earrings and their costs. We didn’t exactly hit the jackpot but theirs were a lot less expensive than the other places. This place had some for $17.50; I wasn’t thrilled but I could handle it. I was still thoroughly irritated by then, though.

So they watched that little boy get his ears pierced – both of them. Cool. Then his younger brother got in the chair to have his done. YEA!!! I was slowly getting more irritated because, apparently, this was a family outing for Father’s Day or something. Mom, Dad, two boys, and baby sister – the Loud Family – along with Uncle Doofus, all went to the mall to get the kids’ ears pierced. As each boy got his ears done, Dad and Uncle Doofus had to step in and check it out and give a high five. Dudes, two kids, two high fives each; they don’t need one for each ear, from each person; there are other people here waiting. If this is how you act for an ear piercing what are you going to do for a graduation or the first time the boys get laid?

Anyway, the boys were done and the family left saying they’d come back to get the little girls’ ears done. Fine, go. Zach still wanted his done so he climbed in the chair. I’d brought my video camera to capture this moment in his life. I know I was just complaining about the Loud Family. There’s a difference, though; my kids’ dad doesn’t get to witness this stuff first hand so video is the only way I can show him. Besides, I’m unobtrusive about it. The girl did Zach’s ears very quickly – 16 seconds according to the video clip – but because Zach had said “OW, that hurt,” Dolly changed her mind. She actually got up on my lap, the girl cleaned her ears, and even put the dots in place; and then she decided she didn’t want to go any further. I’m willing to bet it was, in part, because Zach said it hurt (Dolly even said so), but I’m more willing to bet that it was because the Loud Family with Uncle Doofus in tow returned to the store to do baby sister’s ears and were making a lot of noise as well as crowding in for front-row seats to watch Dolly get her ears pierced. Back the fuck off, folks; you can see that she’s scared. Just walk around the store for a few minutes and let us get this done. I didn’t say it but I was thinking it.

So Dolly and I got off the chair and sat, out of the way, on the floor to discuss it. I told the others to go ahead with the baby and I would let the girl know if Dolly changed her mind. Zach wouldn’t stop talking to Dolly and he was just making her more nervous, even though I asked him, repeatedly, to stop and let me speak to her. In the background, though, all I could hear was Mom Loud getting excited over baby’s ears and saying that she was about to cry (they’re not your ears, lady, and it’s really not a milestone in life – relax), and Dad Loud and the boys were goofing off with Uncle Doofus. It was way too much noise in too small of a space. I finally just got so frustrated that I couldn’t stand it and brought the kids home.

All I wanted to do was take the kids out to have some fun and to do something that they both really wanted to do. I’m sure the Loud Family didn’t realize what a pain they were, and I’m sure the people who set the prices at the other places we attempted to go didn’t realize they irritated me and were disappointing my kids. That’s all fine but I was still irritated to the point of crankiness. It was so bad that I really didn’t want to be around anyone. That’s why I thought it was PMS, through and through – it was just so bad. It wasn’t, though, and I’ll tell you why. Later that day, Dolly said she wanted her ears pierced “tomorrow” – Monday. Okay, but I wasn’t going to go every day until she decided to go through with it. I was willing to try again, though.

The next morning I called Wal-Mart to find out when the piercing lady would be there. The person who answered the phone didn’t know and suggested I call before I left the house. DUH, I was ready to leave the house, so that trip had to be postponed for a couple of hours because they wouldn’t have anyone in jewelry at all until 2:00. At noon I went to a local tattoo place to see if they would pierce Dolly’s ears. They wouldn’t because, they said, Independence law forbids them to pierce anyone under age 15 and they could only pierce 15-18 with parental consent. The girl also told me that I’d be hard-pressed to find anyone to pierce Dolly. When I explained about Zach getting his done the day before, the girl was surprised. I’m thinking she lives under a rock. She said they haven’t been properly trained and that they couldn’t sterilize their equipment between customers. Whatever. The gun itself doesn’t touch the customer; the cartridge with the earrings does and that’s different for each customer and then thrown away when it’s empty. Besides, kids have been getting their ears pierced for eons and suddenly there’s an issue with blood-born pathogens. What-the-fuck-ever!

Anyway, I was even further into my irritation (remember the phone call with the Wal-Mart chick) because of the tattoo babe filling my head with bullshit. So Dolly and I headed to Wal-Mart anyway; with luck we’d find a piercing lady and, if not, I’d buy the gun and do it myself. The gun was only $5. We get there about 12:30 and find a lady behind jewelry and further find out that a lady who can pierce will be returning shortly. YEA!! The piercing lady gets there, takes care of a guy who’d been there that morning and then gets Dolly in the seat. She gets her ears cleaned, gets the dots on them and then asks to sit on my lap. The lady pierces one ear, makes sure Dolly is okay, and quickly does the other ear. Dolly never even flinched, and never dropped a tear. Guess what? There was no audience and no loud noise; there was me, the piercing lady, Dolly, and one elderly lady who needed a watch battery but waited patiently while Dolly did what she had to do. To top it off, it only cost me $10 plus tax.

Do you understand why my crankiness wasn’t just due to PMS? It was because of all the morons I was dealing with all day the day before. Had things gone smoothly, and so much crap not been thrown my way, I wouldn’t have been so cranky. Monday I was fine until the Wal-Mart chick couldn’t give me any proper information and then the tattoo chick with all of her bogus blather didn’t help. Once everything fell into place, I was just fine. If it was totally PMS I would have been a complete crankass both days. That wasn’t so. Tonight, though, I’m starting to get cranky because of my ex-husband and his dumbass shit, and because of my neighbor. She just sent her niece over for the second time today for sugar – it’s 11:20 at night. Why do you need sugar at this time of night and why are five kids – aged 11-3 all still awake and running around? I don’t care what you do in your home, but please don’t disturb mine this late at night. I’m just going to go to bed so they can’t bother me anymore. I’ll discuss the stupid issue with my ex in another post. For now, though, I think I’m depleted.

Until next time…peace to all.

Time to Make a Move

Alright, it’s quarter to eleven and I’m just starting my post for tonight. Not because I’m slacking, that would never happen; but because I’m doing research to find a way to get out of here and over to Maryland in the next couple of months. I’ve got some ideas and will be spending much of tomorrow on the phone trying to find housing anywhere I can out there. I can’t be here any more and I don’t want my kids here any more. It’s not fair to any of us so I’m going to do what I can to get us back to the East Coast. Ellen and I even decided that, if need be, we’ll stay with her for a short while so I can secure housing. It’ll be really cramped and I don’t really want to do that (losing a friendship over this move is not in the plans either of us have) but we’ve got to do what we’ve got to do. We’ll find a way to make it work.

We’re both just really tired of waiting for the Universe to provide for us and figure that we’ll make happen what we want and need whether the Universe agrees or not. Ellen and I have got plans for our lives that we need to get started. Neither of us got a degree in Paralegal Studies to have them hanging on the wall looking pretty. We want to start generating incomes and giving back to those who have helped us over our lives. We want to be able to help women like us, women who are trying to raise kids and make it on their own. We can’t help them if we can’t even help ourselves; and we can’t help ourselves if we’re 1500 miles apart. So, we’re going to force this move on the Universe and hope it decides to join in and help us. If not, we’ll still do what needs to be done. We have no choice at this point; we’ve got to move forward.

This isn’t exactly what I wanted to write about tonight; I was going to fill everyone in on what happened yesterday to aid in my crankiness, like I mentioned at the end of last night’s post. That’s not going to happen tonight, though; it’ll just have to wait until tomorrow. Tonight’s post is just going to be this quick little update along with a request for everyone to send positive vibes, thoughts, prayers, whatever it is that you do, to me so I can get the resources I’ll need (housing, money, someone to move my stuff) to get us out of here before school starts again in the Fall. Whatever positive energy you can send, I’ll accept. Every little bit helps and I’ll be eternally grateful. I’m signing off for now, though, because I’m tired and still have a lot of research ahead of me tomorrow. I’m going to make this move work.

Until next time…peace to all.

PMS or Just Really Cranky?

I said at the end of last night’s blog that I would probably have some interesting stuff to report on tonight. I hope nobody was biting their nails waiting because my day wasn’t as eventful as I thought it was going to be. It started off that way and I got 1 ½ errands done when I just got so ticked off that I had to come back home and postpone the rest of the day’s events until tomorrow. I wasn’t ticked off at anything in particular, I don’t think; it was just a mixture of basic crap that kept building and festering. I’ll explain more about that if tomorrow goes the way I’d like. If not, it’ll just have to wait. There’s a reason and you’ll understand why I’m waiting when I actually post about it.

Anyway, I don’t know if it was all the crap that was happening that got me cranky or if it’s PMS that got me cranky. See, I’ve never had PMS in my life – until now, I think. When I was younger, nobody even knew I had IT unless I told them; there was never any change in my mood or anything else. My visits just came and went; and while I had friends who constantly complained about IT, I didn’t because, rationally speaking, if I didn’t get IT, I wouldn’t have my three beautiful children. It’s a fact of life, ladies; deal with IT. I know it’s hard sometimes, but think of what you’d be missing if you never had IT.

I’ve been noticing changes lately, though, that I asked my doctor about the last time I visited – when I went for my ‘Well Woman Exam.’ What the fuck is that about…the ‘Well Woman Exam’? Who came up with that politically correct expression? I used to go the gynecologist for a check-up; now I go for a ‘Well Woman Exam.’ Holy shit!! If I’ve got a problem in that area do I go for a ‘Not-so-Well Woman Exam’? Call it what you like; we all know what it entails. “That which we call a rose by any other name…” right ladies?

Anyway, when I asked the doctor if I might be going through the early stages of menopause – the name given it is perimenopause – he said, given my age, it’s possible. He also said he doesn’t like the fact that someone actually came up with the name ‘perimenopause’ because there really isn’t such a thing; that a woman’s body just continues to change until she’s actually in menopause (when IT finally stops for good). He’s only been practicing for a little over a year, though, so maybe he isn’t hip to all the old lady lingo yet. I explained that my cycle hasn’t been the same since I had Dolly four years ago, that I’ve suddenly got acne (I’m almost 43 and I keep getting huge zits.), and that I’ve noticed that I’ve started getting really cranky around “that time.” When I say ‘cranky’ I don’t mean, “Gosh, it’s hot, my kids are noisy, and I’m feeling a bit out of sorts.” When I say ‘cranky’ I mean, “I HATE BEING HERE AND IF ANY OF MY FUCKED-IN-THE-HEAD NEIGHBORS EVEN LOOKS AT ME I’M GOING TO BEAT SOME ASS JUST BECAUSE I CAN!!!” (No, Ginger, I don’t mean you. You know of those to whom I refer.) Any little thing can and will set me off and, once I’m in a crank-ass mood, I’m not coming out of it – you can’t make me, so don’t even try.

That is PMS, right? That’s what I was always told by my friends who claim to have it. Quite honestly I think PMS is just an excuse for women to act like bitches and get away with it. Are there physical and hormonal changes that occur? Yes, absolutely; I’ve never denied that and now I can personally attest to it. However, if you know the problem exists, you can absolutely control it. I do. I was in a severely cranky mood today after a few things didn’t go as planned so I just came back home, sat on the sofa, and didn’t move all day. Did anyone get hurt in the process? Nope; that’s the point. Get it? Had I stayed out and continued to try to run my errands, I may have snapped on some unsuspecting shithead who probably would’ve earned a bitch-out but not the ass-chewing I would’ve given in my current state of mind. See, PMS can be controlled; there is absolutely no reason to stand with a big grin on your face while you pleasantly talk about all the times you belittled and abused your significant other simply because you feel you’ve got the ultimate feminine excuse. It’s bullshit and you know it.

Am I still cranky right now? Yea, I am; but writing about it is helping to calm me down a bit. I also want to go to sleep but my kids haven’t yet gone to sleep so I can’t go just yet. Maybe I’ll just keep writing until I fall asleep at my desk and my readers have three days worth of reading in this one post. That wouldn’t be nice of me though, to keep writing for no reason. I’m not that type of person, and I’m not going to take my PMS, if that’s what it is, out on you folks. I am going to wrap it up though, then proof read, grammar and spell check, then copy and paste into my blog. I always write in Word first; it’s just easier that way. In any case, I’ll be back tomorrow and, with luck, my day will have gone much better than today went. I’ll let you know.

Until next time…peace to all.

What Did I Say?

I was sitting here tonight trying to think of a topic for tonight’s blog and I couldn’t. I was doing anything and everything to avoid starting it, and then I realized I must have writer’s block. Oh, not another problem I have to deal with; I don’t want any more problems. I Googled the definition of ‘writer’s block’ to see what the symptoms are and I subsequently determined that I don’t have it. Basically, and without quoting any particular source, writer’s block is the inability of a writer to begin or continue a piece of work.

I’m disqualified from that since I have no problem continuing once I start, nor do I have a problem starting; my problem was trying to decide on a specific topic. Then I realized that if I would just start writing, I’d keep writing whether I wanted to or not. I can’t help it; my fingers just keep going and going and going…like that Energizer Bunny. Oooo, that’s freaky. If my fingers won’t stop, though, it’s because my mind won’t stop either. My fingers are speaking for my mind so they’re working together, I guess, to get my thoughts to the paper, screen, whatever it’s supposed to be called these days.

I just have so many thoughts lately that it’s hard to separate them into different topics or to find enough to write about any single one thought. For instance, I’ve already mentioned that I want to move to Maryland but can’t secure housing. That’s always on my mind but there isn’t anything I can do about it and nothing more I can say about it. What’s the point in writing about it again? There isn’t one but when I’m trying to think of a blog topic, that thought keeps butting in and won’t go away. I also really dislike doing laundry but there isn’t anyone else who can do it. The kids can do their own, technically, but not without help from me. See, end of topic. There isn’t anything else to say about the laundry in my house.

I really don’t like my neighbors; I’m tired of kids who don’t take responsibility for their own actions and try to blame my kids all the time for things my kids didn’t do; I really despise lying and disrespectfulness; I’m not losing weight fast enough which is my own fault; I’m tired of my sister treating my like I don’t matter; I want a small shrimp party platter but don’t have the money to get one right now; there’s nothing to watch on TV; and it’s really difficult to type when I have to keep dipping into the sunflower seed bowl and then remove the empty shell from my mouth. See what I mean? All of these thoughts running through my head tonight and none of them interesting or intricate enough to require its own blog space (if I haven’t already discussed it previously).

I wonder how writers, like columnists, actually come up with topics to write about every single day. My life isn’t that exciting or interesting, to me anyway, that the general public would tune in to see what’s up seven days a week. I don’t know; maybe it is to some, but those people aren’t commenting to let me know what they think. I know my topics aren’t always red hot but I’m also not a professional author/columnist/writer so I don’t have the skill and know-how that professionals do to keep the readers’ attention all the time. I don’t think I’m doing that bad though. As a 42-year-old, divorced mother of three who spends her days sitting at home, dealing with shitty neighbors, and snotty-ass neighborhood kids, and feels like she’s sinking deeper and deeper into the your-life-sucks-and-will-only-continue-to-get-worse well, I’d say I’m better than average with this blog.

I actually started it last year and didn’t really get that into it; basically because I kept forgetting I had started it. I wrote sometimes this year also but never really got into it until I quit smoking in front of everyone at the end of April. It was the only way I could actually force myself to quit, remember? It worked, I’ve quit smoking (hence the bowl of sunflower seeds) but don’t blog about that like I did when I first quit. There is only so much a person can write about the trials and tribulations of quitting tobacco. I had to start writing about other things just to keep myself interested in my blog. It’s a good thing I did too, or I’d have fallen asleep weeks ago.

Tomorrow I should have some really interesting stuff to write about since the kids and I have a bunch of stuff to do all day. It’ll be exciting for all of us and I’m sure I’ll be so full of anecdotes and jokes and stuff that I won’t know where to begin. If that happens I’ll just start a chapter blog – each night will be another part of the story that will keep my readers in suspense until the next night. Relax, I’m just kidding. We’ll be doing a lot of things, yes; just not enough to warrant that much blog time. Or will it…? I guess you’ll just have to come back and see.

Until next time…peace to all.

Boundaries, You Doormat

When I was a kid, I was an easy target for bullies and anyone else who wanted to make fun of me. My mother never taught me how to handle my feelings or how to deal with the people who picked on and made fun of me. If I was crying, she’d tell me not to be such a baby. I didn’t know how to handle the abuse, the abusers, or the negative feelings; and she never taught me how to set up boundaries. After a lifetime of abusive relationships and five years of counseling and support groups, though, I thought I had learned how to set up my boundaries. I think I’m wrong; I’m beginning to think I need more work in some areas.

There are areas where I have no problem standing my ground and letting people know just how far they can go before they’ve gone too far. My ex-husband is a prime example. The “Love and Logic” techniques I learned in the classes and from attending the parent support group work really well on him. They allow me to set up my boundaries with him and to let him know when he’s crossed the line. The techniques also work with neighbors and anyone else who feels the need to get in my face for any reason. Get snippy with me and I have no problem letting you know, politely but firmly, that you’ve gotten under my skin and I won’t take any more from you. Ask me to do something and I’m willing to help. Take advantage of my hospitality and I’ll clam up and not say a word. I can’t figure out why.

I very rarely ask for favors from anyone but, when I do, I pay them back with more than is required. For instance, if I borrow a cup of milk from you, I’ll buy you a half gallon of milk the next day; if I borrow a few pieces of tape to wrap a gift, I’ll buy you a roll of tape the next time I go shopping. That’s just the way I am; I don’t like asking for help so I want to make sure it’s repaid when and if I do ask. That type of help, though, isn’t really a big deal to me; constantly asking someone to watch my kids is a big deal. I had these children and I accept them as my responsibility. It’s my job to care for them; not to pawn them off on my neighbors every chance I get.

The only time I ask my neighbors to watch my kids is if I’ve got something extremely quick to do and it’ll take longer to load the kids into the van than it will to do the actual errand; or if I’ve got an appointment that will overlap the time that the kids will arrive home from school. One time I even asked a friend to watch them because I had to pick up someone from the train station late at night and I didn’t want to have to drag the kids along. Other than those few times, I don’t go out on dates, I don’t go out to eat with my friends, I don’t go on shopping sprees by myself, and I don’t just ask anyone to watch my kids for the hell of it. That would be unloading three kids onto someone else who probably already has kids of their own. In my mind, it’s not fair; so why does everyone else think it’s okay to do to me? I’ll tell you why, because I’m a doormat, that’s why.

Yesterday and today I watched my neighbor’s three kids – four, two and four months. The parents were supposed to be taking a class somewhere for six hours each day and were paying me to watch the kids. Okay, I wasn’t really keen on it but extra money always comes in handy. I had only had them for about three hours yesterday when Mom showed up at my door telling me the class had been cancelled. She’d only paid me half at that point and I offered it back to her. She declined saying she’d probably still have me watch them today so she could go fill out some job applications. Fine, I could still do what I needed to with extra kids around so it really wasn’t a problem. She brought them over about 8:30 this morning and left to do what she needed to do. I cleaned my house and was trying to find something to do with these kids when she came back with a cheeseburger for each of us for lunch. She also paid me the other half of the money. We all ate and chatted then she asked if I would mind if she took a nap for a while. “YES! YOU’RE HOME, TAKE YOUR KIDS,” my mind screamed; “No, go ahead,” my mouth said. So I messed around on the computer while she went home and slept.

Her husband had been at work at 8:00 and his shift ended at 2:00, so he should be home by 2:30. He could come and pick up the kids while his wife napped. Well, 2:30 came and went, with him arriving home but never showing up on my door. Time ticked on: 2:45, 3:00, 3:15, 3:30 – Mom finally came back to get the kids. What the fuck is that? Is it really fair for someone to ask me to watch their kids and then go home to take a nap, then to have Dad get home and take a break from the kids also? I don’t think so. Yes, I got paid to watch them but the time I got paid for had come and gone.

I’m a single parent, folks. My ex lives 1800 miles away so it’s just me with my kids when they’re not in school. I have no co-parent, no roommate, no significant other, nobody but me to care for my kids – and that’s okay. Sure I complain about it sometimes but I accept it because that’s my job as a parent. Everyone else I know has extra help in their homes be it the second parent, a grandparent, another relative, what have you. Why am I the one always called upon to watch everyone else’s kids when they’ve got something to do; and why does it always have to be more than one of the kids?

An hour or two is one thing but when I’m constantly being asked to watch two to three kids for five and six hours, and sometimes overnights, that’s getting to be too much. I would never do that to anyone. I remember one time that I did ask a friend to watch my kids so I could go to the comedy club with another friend. The guy I asked to watch them had custody of his own two daughters but his girlfriend would be there to help. I only asked them to watch the kids for about three hours but he called during the show and told me not to pick them up until the next morning. I was grateful but felt really guilty and arrived at his house promptly at the time we agreed I’d retrieve my kids. Since then I’ve never asked anyone to watch my kids for me so I could go out; but I also haven’t had the opportunity to go anywhere either.

Not only do I get asked all the time, but the money I get paid rarely compensates me for my time and expenses. When I say ‘expenses’ I’m really saying ‘food costs.’ These kids eat constantly, without exaggeration. When I do my food shopping I plan for my kids and me and don’t really think of feeding extra kids. So when I’m babysitting three kids, I really don’t expect to be feeding them any more than I feed my own kids. I shouldn’t have to make extra sandwiches because a kid can’t control his eating; I shouldn’t have to run out of a huge box of Goldfish because the kids can’t stay out of my kitchen; nor should I have to make three pitchers of juice because the kids can’t stay out of my fridge. I don’t know what you do in your home, but that’s not how we do it here. Your kids should be fed before they arrive and should be told that constantly asking for food and drink is impolite, especially when I’m not getting paid enough to replace all the food that the extra kids ate.

My problem is I don’t know how to say ‘no’ and I don’t know how to address the food and other issues that I’ve already mentioned to the parents but who don’t seem to get the hint. I don't know how to set up boundaries so that we can all be comfortable with the rules of my home, and my conditions for babysitting. I try to help my friends because that’s what friends do for one another and because I think they would do it for me if I asked them. I can’t say they would for sure because of past experience with different ‘friends.’ I’m just tired of being the first one called when someone needs a babysitter. My friends all have family around here but my name seems to come up first. Why? I’ve already told you why, because I’m a doormat who can't set up boundaries. I’m actually thinking of getting it tattooed on my forehead so everyone will know; I’ve still got time tonight, the place doesn’t close for a couple of hours. Oops, I forgot, I can’t; I’m babysitting – again.

Until next time…peace to all.

To Read and Not TV

I’m not a TV show type of person. I do watch TV but I’m usually watching a movie rather than a sitcom or a reality TV show or something else. That’s not to say that I’ve never watch them, because I do when the mood strikes or I just can’t find any movies that I want to watch. Most people have their favorite shows that they watch faithfully every week; I see the posts on Facebook. For the past couple of years, I’ve only had two shows that I watched faithfully every week – “Ghost Whisperer” and “NUMB3RS” – which were both on Friday nights, one at 7:00 and one at 9:00. If I liked the show between I might watch it but, more likely than not, I’d go on the computer or talk on the phone for the hour. Regardless, I never missed those two shows and, wouldn’t you know it, CBS cancelled them both at the end of this season. It’s unbelievable; I finally find two programs that I really like, and now they’re gone. I guess it’ll be strictly movies from now on.

Late at night I might put on re-runs of “Roseanne” which I absolutely love only because it’s the only sitcom I’ve ever seen that deals with real life family issues. After they won the lottery it, kind of, went down hill, but I still watched it. I even saw the very last episode. The show was/is pretty funny, though, and I can really relate to it. I don’t know if there are any more sitcoms like that because I don’t watch any these days. I can’t even tell you what shows are on what nights but I have friends who can tell me which is on what night at what time. Wow!! I honestly don’t know what to make of that.

Almost everyone I know is into watching those shows like “Dancing With the Stars,” and “Survivor,” and “American Idol.” I can’t watch them simply because I know they’re not as real as the producers make them out to be. The reason I know is because I did try to watch “American Idol” once a few years ago and, right at the moment I put it on, there was a contestant who, I guess, got kicked off the show and was backstage crying, and badmouthing and backstabbing other contestants. I thought the point of the show was to see who was going to last based on talent; I didn’t realize it was to vote people off and then focus on the theatrical tirades the losers acted out upon leaving the stage. The whole thing just irritated me to the point that I turned it off after about three minutes and have never watched it again. Those “Survivor” shows can’t be real because there are hundreds of camera people/crew members, etc. standing around filming the program. I have heard of people, though, who actually believe the contestants are really trying to “survive.” Um, okay.

I’ve also watched “Bridezillas” and that show about the sweet sixteen parties. Both of those just make me sick. I have never seen such spoiled, selfish, and rude people in my life. I can’t take watching them on a regular basis and don’t understand how other rational people can either. It bugs me when my kids get selfish; I have no tolerance for selfish, whiny adults. I did use to watch the court TV shows occasionally, too. I love Judge Judy for her knowledge but she can be a real bitch sometimes and has no clue about domestic violence relationships. I think that’s a big problem with the legal system these days regarding that very issue. Most attorneys, judges and lawmakers have no clue about the dynamics of said relationships and therefore can’t make reasonable decisions regarding the outcome of cases revolving around DV. I also like Judge Joe Brown. He’s funny, interesting, has outstanding knowledge, and is extremely handsome. I think he’s a real hottie (is that the word these days?).

If the kids are home and I do allow them to watch TV, there are kid shows on so I’m not really interested. I’ve already seen all the episodes of “SpongeBob Squarepants” and Dora and Diego just irritate me. If and when I actually do get control back, I will flip the channels constantly looking for a decent movie. I have to watch it from the beginning if I’ve never seen it before. Even missing the first ten minutes is a no-no with me. If there isn’t a movie on a cable channel, I’ll go to OnDemand to find something. I prefer to watch movies that nobody has heard about – “The Station Agent,” “Muriel’s Wedding,” “Dear Frankie,” and “Little Voice” are movies that I can watch repeatedly and never get sick of them, but they’re also movies that most people have never seen so I can’t discuss my views with anyone. Bummer. I’ll get over it, I’m sure.

Now that my two favorite shows are off the air for good, I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t really like spending my time in front of the TV to begin with; it’s usually just a way for me to take my mind off of my life and let me drift into a fantasy world for a while. My Friday night schedule, though, was something to which I’d become accustomed and actually looked forward to during the winter months (when shows are new and not always repeats). When you don’t really have a life outside the house, these little things mean a lot. They’re gone, though, so I’ll have to deal with it.

I love to read but I don’t have much in my personal library that I’m really interested in any more. I’ve got a huge Stephen King collection that I’m actually trying to sell, and most of my other stuff is old horror from many moons ago. I’ll either have to start going to the library – which I’m afraid to do since things tend to get ruined around here because of simple child error, it comes with the territory; or I’ll have to find a second-hand book store where I can buy stuff really cheap. I would really prefer not to get hooked on any more TV shows, though, because the disappointment when they are cancelled is just terrible. I’m kidding, of course, but, from what I’ve seen, the trend of TV these days is all reality and I don’t need any more than what I’ve already got. Heck, I like watching paranormal shows but have real ghosts in my own home to talk to; I don’t really need to watch someone else’s.

Maybe I can start my own public access show about my kids and me. It wouldn’t be very exciting, though, and I doubt anyone would really watch it, but I could give it a try. Or, I could actually just watch movies when my mind needs a break and read a book when a little thinking won’t hurt me. Maybe I’ll give it a try. I used to read all the time. As a kid my friends used to laugh at me because I’d go through book constantly. My mother would actually yell at me and tell me to go outside and hang out with my friends instead of sitting inside reading. Brilliant idea, Ma. Lately, though, I tend to fall asleep when I read. Perhaps if my reading material was more interesting that wouldn’t happen. I don’t know. I’ll give it a shot and let you know what happens. If I do happen to read anything worth sharing, I will; in the meantime, if anyone reading this has any good book suggestions, toss them my way. I’d appreciate it – please and thanks.

Until next time…peace to all.

Old Rules; New Rules

I was just on the phone and, as I was saying my good-bye, mentioned that I still didn’t have a topic for tonight’s blog post. I needed to think of something. I thought I had a good subject earlier today but decided against it at the last minute. Things haven’t been going very well for me lately and I’m pissed off about it. I get shit on a little more every day and I’m getting sick of it. I was actually going to write about all the crap that’s been happening lately but then decided I didn’t need to dwell on it, nor do you want to read any more about my woes. So, as I hung up the phone, I walked to the kitchen to toss out the empty sunflower shells that I’d just filled my ashtray with and to get a drink of milk. I’ve got a glass of water on my desk, I always have water with me, but I really wanted some milk. I took the gallon out of the fridge and began drinking. Yes, I drink out of the milk container. My kids and I are the only ones who live here and we’ve all got the same DNA so why not? My mother hated when I drank out of the container and I could never figure out why since she didn’t drink milk at all.

I do a lot of things that my mother never did, and I don’t do a lot of things that she did. I actually make a concerted effort not to be like my mother, and I know I don’t raise my kids the same way she raised my sister and me. I was just having this conversation with Ellen the other day, part of it anyway, about the stupid things my mother used to say to me. “Why don’t you put on a jacket (sweater)?” Why Mom, am I cold? She was the one who was cold but she’d want me to put on a jacket or sweater; now that makes sense. Not. Or she’d ask me, “You want to take out the garbage?” Um, nope, not really feeling the desire right now, but thanks for asking. When I’d say, “Not really,” she’d say, “Well do it anyway, please.” Gee, Mother, if I don’t have a choice, why not just ask me to take out the garbage rather than asking me if I want to. DUH!!

She also had some really stupid rules, if you ask me. We weren’t allowed to sing at the table? Why not? People in musicals sing at the table all the time and don’t get the Manners Police called in to stop them. Yea, I know, I don’t live in a musical. I could if I wanted to; I just really can’t sing so I’ll refrain so as not to harm anyone. In any case, why the “no singing at the table” rule? It’s not like we’d go out to a restaurant and my sister and I would start singing in the middle of the meal. What the fuck? My kids and I will be sitting at the table and one of them might remember a song he or she learned at school and want to share it. I say, feel free and sing your heart out. Maybe we can all join in on the second verse. If we’re sitting at the coffee table because they want to watch a TV show while we eat (which my mother would never permit; we always ate at the kitchen or dining table), we may start singing with the program. What’s the big deal? Nobody is getting hurt, we’re enjoying a meal together, and we’re all having fun. Who gives a shit if we sing? I don’t.

I do teach my kids to keep elbows off the table and to put their napkins in their laps; if they forget, so be it, the world won’t end. They don’t have to finish everything on their plates and I only request that they try something if they claim to not like it. If they don’t want to try it, I don’t force the issue. My mother was one who made us try everything on our plates whether we wanted to or not. She’d even lie to us to get us to eat certain foods. I did not like carrots at all when I was a kid. My mother kept telling me they were good for my eyes so I gagged them down my throat. When I was nine I got glasses; so much for carrots being good for my eyes. Why lie to me; what good does that do for either of us? Yes, you get me to eat my carrots, but when I find out you lied, not only do I stop eating carrots, but I have a hard time believing you about other shit. I did start eating carrots when I was pregnant with Dolly because they tasted really sweet to me. Now I eat them all the time.

Zach asked me about the carrot issue the other night at the table, though. So I told him I wasn’t going to lie to him the way my mother lied to me. Yes, carrots have vitamins that are helpful to your eyes, but they won’t prevent your eyesight from going bad. I told him he could eat them or not but not to eat them simply because they are good for his eyes because there are other things that are good for his eyes too. Thank goodness he didn’t ask me what because I couldn’t think of anything off the top of my head. I’m not going to lie to my kids about stuff like that, though; it isn’t fair to any of us and I really hate lying in any form, or for any reason. I don’t lie to them about anything; I just keep things age appropriate.

Like I said, my mother did some stupid shit and had some really dumb rules. She wanted us to keep our room cleaned at all times. I can understand that when we’re young; she was trying to teach us responsibility. I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt anyway, and not say that she was a control freak about that shit. I want my kids to clean their rooms too and generally freak out when the floor has completely disappeared; until then, I can remain cool about it. When I was in my early twenties, though, I gained the bedroom my sister and I had shared for years to myself when she got married. The room was a dormered attic space and was out of the way of the rest of the house. I was never a neat freak, but I kept clean clothes folded neatly in piles on the floor because of a lack of storage space, kept dirty clothing in one pile near the door until I had enough to make a full load of laundry, and I never made my bed. I was just going to sleep in it later that night so what was the point? My mother was always up my ass to make sure my room was clean and my bed was made. What the fuck for? By her reasoning it was because it should be clean for visitors. By my reasoning she didn’t make any sense.

First of all, she, my dad, and I all worked during the day so anyone in the house while we were out was not there for a social visit; he or she was there to rob the place and wouldn’t really give a shit how clean or messy my room was at the time, and would probably mess it up even more before exiting the premises. If we were home and had company, nobody needed to be in my room since it was my own private space and, if they were in there for some reason and didn’t like how it looked, they could just get the fuck out and go back downstairs. She finally stopped hounding me after I explained my reasoning. See, she was narcissistic (I think I’ve mentioned that before) and was only concerned about what people would think of her if my room was a mess.

My mother also doled out enough chores that she turned me into an adult by the time I was eight. I had to watch over my sister and we had to do all the chores around the house. I think I recall my mother doing the laundry and occasionally cooking something besides TV dinners, but my sister and I were responsible for setting and clearing the table, doing the dishes, and cleaning the house – including our mother’s room. What is up with that? I keep my kids’ chores – or household contributions as we call them – at an age-appropriate level and still allow them to be kids. If they’re outside, the boys are required to watch out for Dolly but I’m always there looking out the door to make sure everything is on the up-and-up with them. They have to clean their rooms and pick up their things from the common living areas, wash their own cereal bowls and drink cups, and the boys have to alternate taking out the garbage; Dolly is too short to get it in the dumpster yet. That’s it, though; and I would never ask them to clean my room. That would be totally unfair. All the rest of the household work is mine and will be shared as the children grow and are capable of doing the job correctly the first time so I don’t have to re-do it. Regardless, they’re allowed to be kids where my sister and I weren’t.

My kids complain all the time that they have so much to do, their lives are so hectic and overwrought with responsibility; and then I’ll explain what I had to do as a kid so they can compare their lives to mine. I’ll ask if they want to live the way I did and, of course, I get a resounding “No” every time. What kid would say yes to that question? Honestly now, none that I know. My kids will see how easy the have it compared to my old life and that of some of their friends, and they will appreciate me just a little bit more. Then we’ll all sit down to dinner in front of the TV, sing along with SpongeBob, and take turns swigging out of the milk container.

Until next time…peace to all.

Not Early Enough

I think there should be a standard set, or a law passed, regarding the time stores will open each day. I get the boys on the bus for summer school at around 7:50 every morning. If I’ve got errands to run, Dolly and I get back to the house, about a minute away from the bus stop, and get ready to go do what we have to do. Right now it’s easy; most of the stores we shop at open at 8:00a.m. or earlier. It’s convenient to have them open then so we can do what we need to do and get back home again. This morning we had just one errand to run; that was to go find the gift items I wanted to buy for the kids to decorate for their dad for Father’s Day.

We got the boys on the bus, came home, put our hair in hair ponies (as Dolly calls them), put on our shoes and were out the door. It only took about ten minutes for us to get to Dollar Tree, so I figured we’d be home before 9:00 and could get started on the other things we needed to do today. We get to the store and, wouldn’t ya know it, it wasn’t open. It was 8:05 in the morning, why weren’t they open? What kind of store isn’t open at 8:00a.m. these days? Geez, even banks are open at 8:00, if not before. That was really disappointing. What to do instead? I wasn’t driving back home to wait for 20 minutes before heading back there, so we drove over to the supermarket in the very next shopping center to see if they had any of the items I needed.

This is a big store so we got plenty of exercise while we walked around for a half hour looking for the item, which, by the way, was sold there. It just wasn’t the kind I wanted. I wanted the item to be blank but the ones we found were pre-printed with either a national company logo or some silly saying. No good; we’d still have to try Dollar Tree. So, back in the car we go to sit in the parking lot for twenty five minutes. Honestly, what do they expect people to do when we get to the store and it’s not open yet? We hung out in the van. Dolly was playing with the toys she brought with her and I was playing a game on my cell phone when, suddenly, Dolly had to pee. Back to the supermarket we go – thank goodness it only takes 15 seconds to drive there – and on another search, for the restroom this time. Guess what? It’s all the way on the other side of the store. Okay, more exercise.

By the time we get out it is probably 9:00 or later so Dollar Tree should be open. The sign on the door said 9:00 and I was going to hold them to their word. Sure enough, when we pulled back into the parking lot the store had opened and we got to start our search. Can someone explain to me why, when I start looking for an item in a store, I inevitably start on the wrong end of the store? I never just walk into a store and go directly to where an item is – unless I know where it is beforehand, of course. If I don’t have any clue, it never fails that I have to search, at least, ¾ of the store before I find what I need. That’s just what happened today. We started looking at one end and found the item at the other end. We got more exercise, though. I have to look at the benefits, right?

So we get what we need and head back home to continue with out chores. It was around 9:45 by then and I was a little peeved. I had wanted to be home much sooner. It wasn’t my fault, though. Every business opens by 8:00 these days. Why does Dollar Tree have to be so stubborn? I don’t know. Are they trying to prove a point? They’ll probably use the excuse that they’re open until 9:00 at night Big deal, who cares? Most businesses are open until 9:00 but they still open by 8:00, at least. When they close is not my concern. I don’t generally drag my kids out of the house after 8:00p.m. to go shopping. I get my shit done early in the day and I expect the businesses I want to visit to accommodate my needs.

Maybe I’ll write to the company and ask why they don’t open earlier when every other business around them does. Maybe I’ll make a big stink about it. Maybe I’ll write to my State Representatives and suggest that a law be passed and implemented that requires businesses to open by 8:00 in the morning so their customers don’t have to sit in the parking lot waiting for someone to unlock the doors because they got there an hour early. Now that I have tags on Morrison I might be willing to frequent Dollar Tree for my household needs but I can’t because they don’t open early enough for me. I can run right up to Dollar General at 8:00 and get what I need. If I were going to go to Dollar Tree I’d have to find shit to do around the house until it was time to leave and that just doesn’t work for me. What if my chores can’t be completed without the items I’d be buying from Dollar Tree? What do I do then; just sit at home with my hand on my ass waiting for 9:00 to arrive? I don’t think so. Someone needs to speak to these people about their hours before a disgruntled customer gets really angry and, I don’t know, stands in the parking lot and blows a raspberry at the store manager. I’d do it, too. Mark my words.

Until next time…peace to all.