• Store Ads

  BlogHer Ad Network

  More from BlogHer

  Advertise here

  BlogHer Privacy Policy

• Returns

  • They were supposed to be free!
  • $1300 spent on BlogHer and all I got was this shirt
  • BlogHer08: The good and the bad
  • Magic Marker Monday
  • I have 5 minutes to share with you

• Backorders

  Select Month July 2008 June 2008 May 2008 April 2008 March 2008 February 2008 January 2008 December 2007 November 2007 October 2007 September 2007 August 2007 July 2007 June 2007 May 2007 April 2007 March 2007 February 2007 January 2007 December 2006 November 2006 October 2006 September 2006 August 2006

• Awards

  

  

  

  

  

• Information

  

  

  

  

  

There is a running joke in my house about when I will write a post about my hubby. He pops in every now and then hoping to see a post about how he is a fabulous husband, great dad, and the best lover I’ve ever had. I’ve tried explaining to him that my readers aren’t interested in how great he is. He still hopes.(Well my dear, you made it in my blog today because I can’t think of anything else to write about. Unfortunately for you I’m not going to write about how great you are.)

Last night after shopping at Target, hubby went through the bags to see what goodies I bought. He pointed out how I bought a whole box of my favorite dark chocolate: Hershey’s Extra Dark Chocolate with Cranberries, Blueberries & Almonds. It’s the bomb of dark chocolates and healthy (or so I tell myself) because dark chocolate is good for you, has fruit, and a little protein from the almonds. I told him they were hands off and he probably wouldn’t like the extra dark chocolate anyway. I was already irritated that he pointed out that I had bought a whole box. FYI, junkies don’t like their addictions being pointed out to them.

So while taking out the trash this morning he notices the empty box in the trash.

“Did you eat the whole box of chocolate last night or did you hide it in one of your little hiding places?” he asks in a condescending tone. He did the quotations hand gesture when he said “little hiding places” which totally bugs me.

Me: “No, I took the bag out, threw the box away and yes I did hide them in one of my hiding places. Do you also count the empty soda cans to see how much soda I’m drinking?”

Hubby: “Don’t have to get upset I’m just asking a question”. Passive-aggressiveness is his specialty.

Me: “It’s not a question, it’s an accusation”

We spent the next several minutes debating the definition of accusation. So typical of us to start a disagreement about one thing and end up disagreeing about another. His argument was that he was just asking a question where an accusation is to accuse or make a statement. I got out the dictionary.

Definition of accusation: A charge; statement of offense committed or suspected; indictment.

Okay so that didn’t go my way but I can’t let him think he’s right. This is what passive-aggressive people do. They phrase a statement as a question so when you call them on their bad behavior they can say, “What are you so mad about? I just asked a question.” I tried to explain that it was his tone and inflection of the question that came across as an accusation. What business is it of his anyway? I told him the chocolates were hands-off.

So my dear, for future reference, PLEASE DON’T QUESTION ME ABOUT MY CHOCOLATE CONSUMPTION.

Now I feel better.

I have a confession: I let my son have Pringles and soda for breakfast today and before the mommy police get on my case let me just say the slacker moms mantra, “Whatever gets you through your day”.

It feels good to get things off my chest.

This photo is my favorite of my oldest three children. It hangs in a prominent room of my house so I admire it at least once a day. This is the one photo that stirs up a great deal of emotion in me, such a reminder of a bittersweet time in my life.

They were aged four, two, and one in the photo. I remember the day it was taken like it was yesterday. The morning was crazy as you can imagine with an infant, two toddlers, and one mommy. We barely made it out the door in time only to get to the studio and wait a half an hour for our turn. Isabelle was newly potty trained and had an accident. The whole back of her dress was soaked and every mother in the room felt a need to point it out. I’m sure they thought I was the worst mother in the world but I didn’t care. We were there and Isabelle wasn’t complaining. Our turn could not have come fast enough. I had the idea for this photo already in my mind and I was dead set on the carousel horse. The photographer argued with me that my son could not sit on the horse since he was at risk for injury since he was not walking yet. I assured her that my oldest is mature for her age and she could support his back with her arm plus I would stand right there. I convinced her that my kids were toddler supermodels, they were used to being photographed because I am OBSESSED with having photos of them and that she would be able to shoot six photos in under a minute. She called the manager for approval and reminded me that they are not responsible for injuries then shot me the you-are-a-shitty-mother look. I didn’t care. It took a lot to get us there and I wanted this photo. My kids turned off their whining and turned on their charming smiles and the photographer shot six photos in 45 seconds.

“I told you they were pros” I said sarcastically.

Now when I look at their sweet angel faces in the photo it is hard to imagine that Isabelle’s dress was wet and reeked of piss and that Connor was breathing like Darth Vader because his asthma hadn’t been diagnosed yet. I miss that time even though back then I couldn’t wish it away fast enough. Mothers of older children would tell me to enjoy this time because it goes fast. It would piss me off. I was exhausted, hubby traveled a lot, Connor was very sick with respiratory problems, and the other two were high strung and high maintenance. Now that I’m out of it I can look back and agree that it does go by too fast. I do my best not to say that though to mothers that are in the thick of it because you just can’t see it when you’re in it. It’s human nature. Now that I know just how fast time goes by, I’m relishing in every minute with my last baby. This photo is a daily reminder to do just that.

A photo of innocence and excitement for the future. A time when things were simple. A time when I had no idea just how complicated life could get. A time before learning disabilities, bullies, and a Tourette’s diagnosis. A time when I didn’t know I would learn lessons on accepting my children for who they are and that they might not turn out to be what I wanted them to be. A photo that teaches me to live in the moment and to enjoy the ignorance of not knowing the future.

Bittersweet.

Madeline, my oldest is a drama queen. She is also an animal lover and has been begging me to let her have a hamster. I told her she would have to save up her money and buy it herself. Little furry rodents aren’t my thing. With Isabelle’s help she finally raised enough money so reluctantly I let them add hamsters to our menagerie of one dog, two bunnies, and fish. We had a cat but had to give him away when we found out Connor was allergic. Yes, I did say hamsters. The girls each wanted their own. What can I say, I’m a sucker.

So far the girls are doing a great job taking care of them which I know will eventually get old for them. They are holding them every chance they get. This morning started with a little drama because one of the hamsters had shoved bedding into the tube and was buried head first. Madeline is crying and praying to God to spare it’s life. I’m also doing my own silent praying because the death of this hamster will be a huge ordeal. Madeline is still grieving the cat we gave away four years ago.

I tapped on the tube but the hamster did not move. Shit, could it really be dead? After a few tense moments I was able to get my fingers in and pull it out. It was alive! Madeline couldn’t be more ecstatic and I couldn’t be more relieved. My hubby says we were worried for nothing because hamsters like to bury themselves. I guess I know where Madeline has learned to be a drama queen. She loved on her little baby and thanked God over and over. I guess their Catholic schooling is paying off.

This was sent to me today and since I have four kids I added the 4th baby to some of them.

Birth Order Of Children

Your Clothes:
1st baby: You begin wearing maternity clothes as soon as your OB/GYN confirms your pregnancy.
2nd baby: You wear your regular clothes for as long as possible.
3rd baby: Your maternity clothes ARE your regular clothes.

Preparing for the Birth:
1st baby: You practice your breathing religiously.
2nd baby: You don’t bother because you remember that last time, breathing didn’t do a thing.
3rd baby: You ask for an epidural in your eighth month.

The Layette:
1st baby: You pre-wash newborn’s clothes, color-coordinate them, and fold them neatly in the baby’s little bureau.
2nd baby: You check to make sure that the clothes are clean and discard only the ones with the darkest stains.
3rd baby: Boys can wear pink, can’t they?

Worries:
1st baby: At the first sign of distress-a whimper, a frown, you pick up the baby.
2nd baby: You pick the baby up when her wails threaten to wake your firstborn.
3rd baby: You teach your three-year-old how to rewind the mechanical swing.
4th baby: Learns to not cry.

Pacifier:
1st baby: If the pacifier falls on the floor, you put it away until you can go home and wash and boil it.
2nd baby: When the pacifier falls on the floor, you squirt it off with some juice from the baby’s bottle.
3rd baby: You wipe it off on your shirt and pop it back in.
4th baby: Follow the 3 second rule and pop it back in.

Diapering:
1st baby: You change your baby’s diapers every hour, whether they need it or not.
2nd baby: You change their diaper every two to three hours, if needed.
3rd baby: You try to change their diaper before others start to complain about the smell or you see it sagging to their knees.
4th baby: Change their diaper when it falls off.

Activities:
1st baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics, Baby Swing and Baby Story Hour.
2nd baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics.
3rd baby: You take your infant to the supermarket and the dry cleaner.
4th baby: You don’t take infant out. Mommy needs a break!

Going Out:
1st baby: The first time you leave your baby with a sitter, you call home five times.
2nd baby: Just before you walk out the door, you remember to leave a number where you can be reached.
3rd baby: You leave instructions for the sitter to call only if she sees blood.
4th baby: You are just thankful to find a sitter who will watch all four.

At Home:
1st baby: You spend a good bit of every day just gazing at the baby.
2nd baby: You spend a bit of everyday watching to be sure your older child isn’t squeezing, poking, or hitting the baby.
3rd baby: You spend a little bit of every day hiding from the children.
4th baby: You spend a whole lot more time hiding.

Swallowing Coins:
1st child: When first child swallows a coin, you rush the child to the hospital and demand x-rays.
2nd child: When second child swallows a coin, you carefully watch for the coin to pass.
3rd child: When third child swallows a coin you deduct it from his allowance!!
4th baby: Doesn’t get an allowance.

GRANDCHILDREN: God’s reward for allowing your children to live.

I really look forward to the weekends because I get to sleep in while hubby gets up with the kids. Which means sleeping until 8 or 9 am. Remember when sleeping in meant 1 or 2 in the afternoon? Unfortunately this weekend I don’t get my special treat because hubby is on a ball scratching golf weekend where a bunch of 40 year old men pretend to be 20. I went to bed a little early last night to make up for not getting to sleep in. I shouldn’t have bothered going to bed at all because I hardly slept.

It took forever to fall asleep because I kept hearing noises and I forgot to turn off the downstairs light which was just enough light to shine in the bedroom and bug me. I didn’t want to turn it off because that meant walking back upstairs in the dark and I was afraid something would jump out at me. Yes, I’m a grown woman and I’m afraid of the dark. Ever since I saw “The Sixth Sense” I can’t help but to look for a guy with half his head blown off walk by the door.

I eventually drift off to sleep but it didn’t feel like sleep because I had vivid bazaar dreams like me running from a man on a horse who was shooting people in the head with a bow and arrow. Another dream was about my oldest who had a chocolate party at school, she has this weird thing where she touches her forehead, eyes, nose, and chest with her food before she puts it in her mouth. In my dream she was doing her touching thing with the chocolate, her face was covered, dripping with chocolate and the kids in class were laughing at her. Obviously I have some pent up anxiety or it’s period induced hormones. Yesterday was the first day of my period, I’m hemorrhaging and I’m out of industrial strength tampons so I got up three times to take care of business. By the third time I once again had trouble falling asleep.

I had just fallen asleep when I startled awake by the kind of thunder that shakes the house and then a scream. Connor is terrified of storms so I go in and tell him to get in bed with me. Madeline and Isabelle soon followed. I help them get cozy in bed, assure them they are safe while I try to get comfy on the little sliver of mattress that was left.

Wasn’t asleep but a minute when Marigrace starts crying. It was 4 am, she hasn’t gotten up this early for months. I wait to see if she will go back to sleep but after ten minutes I went and got her since I wasn’t sleeping anyway. I push the other three over to make room to nurse Marigrace, hoping she will fall asleep. She didn’t, she was too busy cooing and putting her hands in my mouth and grabbing my nose. I was not in the mood so I put her back in her bed, she whimpered a little and then quiet.

I fall back asleep, have some more weird dreams until 6 am when Marigrace was up again along with the other three. I drag myself out of bed to make breakfast, looking forward to a can of Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper only to find that I was out of soda. I was like a junkie trying to get a fix. I tore the fridge apart hoping to find one that got shoved to the back, I looked in the garage, and in the basement fridge. No fucking Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper!

So I packed up all four kids still in jammies in the car, got McDonald’s for breakfast and then to Walgreens for soda and tampons.

I wonder how my hubby slept?

I get to hang with the cool chicks
at Blogging Chicks.

Jo at Life With Heathens is trying to kick her soda addiction which has me thinking about my own soda addiction. Six months ago I would not have been able to relate. I was a soda snob, a big water drinker with an occasional iced tea. I didn’t like diet soda and I don’t drink regular because I’m not willing to drink my calories. Then I got turned onto Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper and now I’m addicted. (Excuse me a minute while I open my third can today and it’s only 11:30 am.)I swear the soda companies are putting something in to make us NEED more.

I know I need to kick the can, my teeth are stained, belly bloated but I’m just not ready. This pretty red and yellow can has become my best friend. I look forward to seeing her every morning and she’s great company when I drive or geek on the ‘puter. She knows just how to keep me awake and alert. I miss her terribly when she’s away more than a day. I know, I know, I’m pathetic! Check on me in a couple of weeks. I may need an intervention!!!!

Have you seen the show My Super Sweet Sixteen on MTV? I caught it over the weekend and I watched two shocking episodes because I could not pull myself away. Which pisses me off that I got sucked into this kind of trash.

It is a reality show about teens and the extravagant ways they celebrate their sixteenth birthday. Actually the teen in the first episode was celebrating her fifteenth birthday with a six figure party. I don’t know how her sixteenth birthday party will be able to top it. First off, she is the epitome of a spoiled rotten brat and she bragged about how wealthy her family is. Every other word out of her mouth was an expletive. She boasted about being “Daddy’s Little Girl” and how she can get whatever she wants. Whenever things didn’t go her way she would turn on the tears. Her rich daddy gave me the creeps. She had a professional photo shoot at the beach to display at her party. She wore a white bikini and Victoria Secret angel wings. When in a sexy pose her dad bragged in a proud, perverted way, “That’s my girl!” A shiver went up my spine, especially since she has the body of a child that drank way too much hormone laden milk. The episode ended with her party at a hotel. She made an entrance being carried in by her harem of male friends and belly danced while perverted daddy watched with his creepy smile. He bought her the expensive car that she had to have and a diamond Rolex. I didn’t even know what a Rolex was when I was fifteen!

The second episode was much of the same with spoiled rotten daddy’s girl and a mom who is at the child’s beck and call. This time the dad was overly concerned with boys getting near his daughter so he had body guards protect her. He bought her a $92,000 BMW and rented a club for her party. I really felt sorry for this one because she was so insecure. She obviously uses her money to make and keep friends and was overly concerned with impressing them with her birthday party. She seemed to get off on making others jealous of her family’s over the top spending.

While watching I kept wondering what these families thought when they watched back the show. Do they see how ridiculous they look and what spoiled rotten children they are raising? Do they really think over indulging their children is in their best interest? They can’t honestly think that they are raising children who will contribute more to society than just boosting the economy with their outrageous spending habits. In my opinion these parents need a good spanking, some parenting classes, and a charity that would be more thankful than their children for their contribution. Hey MTV, how about a reality show about teens that actually give back to society?

Okay, I’ll step down now.

I have an internal conflict about whether or not to allow my eight year old to watch music videos. I’ve got parental codes on the MTV channels to prevent her from seeing some of their inappropriate programs but I did not on VH1. I didn’t give much thought to how bad the videos could be plus she wasn’t into watching them until my babysitter introduced her to them. They both competitively dance, they live and breathe it, so I understand their interest in watching music videos. I was ten when MTV’s video killed the radio star. I would watch for hours just hoping to see videos of Duran Duran, Micheal Jackson, or Adam Ant. But when she started singing “Promiscuous Girl” while doing homework I decided I probably should see what exactly she was taking in. I asked her what promiscuous meant and luckily she replied that she didn’t know, she just likes the song. So we watched the Top 20 Countdown. I was disturbed. Nearly every video was about sex, the women were half dressed and portrayed in sexually aggressive roles, and some went as far as to simulate intercourse. I could not stop thinking about what messages this was giving her and how much was she understanding. I want to preserve her innocence for as long as I can but unfortunately she has already been exposed so we needed to talk. I asked her what was sex. She replied that it’s when a mommy and daddy kiss and hug and sometimes they are naked. I was relieved. By the time I was eight an older cousin had filled me in on all the nitty gritty details. I remember feeling grossed out that my parents did THAT.

I talked to her about how the way the women dressed and behaved on the videos was all for show and that acting that way is really not acceptable. I know that, she told me. She did seem to be much more oblivious to what was going on in the videos than I was. I had a pretty good idea about what is Fergie’s “London Bridge” while my daughter thought she was singing the dance version of “London Bridge Is Falling Down”.

I wish it wasn’t this way, that sex sells and 90% of the Top Ten Videos are songs about sex. Is it really necessary? Would they not be popular? I know that I want to get my freak on whenever I hear Justin Timberlake’s new song and I have no idea what he’s singing. I just like the music which is exactly what my daughter tells me.

So for now I will let her watch them with me. My fear is if I forbid them then they will be more enticing. My parents made this mistake. They were much too strict and sex was a big secret. The only reference to sex was my mother threatening me that I better not make her a grandma before she is forty. They thought they were protecting me by hiding the evils of the world but I found them on my own and was confused by them. I’m sure I would have made much better choices had I been able to talk to my mom.

The fact is that sex is everywhere and I’m naive to think I can shield her from it. She is going to be in friend’s homes where parents don’t monitor what their children watch or leave Playboy in the magazine rack of the bathroom. She is going to be exposed and she needs the lines of communication about it open now. I want her to feel comfortable with talking to me about sex. I want her to know that sex is not a dirty word, that sex is wonderful with someone you love. I want her to know that she doesn’t have to be sexually aggressive to make a boy like her.

So, I will continue to leave the parental controls on the channels I don’t want her watching without me and on the weekends if she wants to watch music videos then we will together. We can dance, be silly, and make fun of how ridiculous they are.

I’ve been interviewed over at “5 Minutes for Mom”.

5 Minutes For Mom is letting me join them (see my post about blog high school). If you haven’t heard of 5 Minutes for Mom yet, it’s a blog that helps promote mom blogs and mom-run websites. The owners are twins who run online toy and kids furniture stores and want to help mom-owned sites get free promotion.

Next Page →

• My Other Blog

  

• I also blog at

  

  

  www.flickr.com
  

  This is a Flickr badge showing items in a set called blogher08. Make your own badge here.

• Don't mess with me

  

  

  

  

  

  

• Shop

  

  
• Subscribe to Slacker-Moms-R-Us

  

• 
  

Just don't steal



This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.