Haiku: Jumble

Cousins and best buds
Dance, softball, close like sisters
Will it remain so?



Sixteen months has hit
Now he hits, BITES, hollers
What am I to do?


This week was hairy
Busy with mid-terms, projects
Away from blogging

Thank God it is Friday. I have had the longest of weeks! The boy is becoming an ever increasing pain in my...side. The biting is causing trouble at the sitter's house and here. I am afraid to take him anywhere for fear he will take a chunk out of another child. Nice, huh?

So sorry, friends, that I have been so absent here and at your places but school and real life beckoned this week. Spring is busy with softball, extra dance practices and pictures and my own long college career. Now, my husband is running solo at work because the other pharmacist quit (let's all pray to the gods that this guy, who SLEEPS with the help, gets his). Ahh, what a week!

So, what's new with you?

Mother In Law Day

One of my favorite moms and mom bloggers, MamaGeek, reminded me this morning that Mother's Day is nearly upon us. Ugh. You know what that means? I have to send something to my husband's mother. Ugh.

I don't hate Mother's Day. I am a mom and like the freakish things that my kid makes at school and my husband is a great gift giver and I get nice things. (Aside: does anyone out there still not think of Mother's Day as a holiday for YOU? When I think of Mother's Day, I still think of my mom and about making her day special not how good my day will/will not be. Am I alone or just crazy?) I love to buy stuff for my mom, too.

But, then there is the MIL from Hell. Really! She drives a broom and everything. *snickering evilly* This is the woman who made my family (me, husband, two kids) robes. Yep. Homemade robes. (if you're new here, it really is worth the clicks. Seriously.) She gives Tweety Bird Chia Pets for gifts, as well as pendant necklaces with the wrong letter.

She and her husband (otherwise known as Antichrist; heard of him?) haven't seen my almost sixteen month old son since he was 2 weeks. Did I mention she's not a fan of me? Or my husband? Or my kids?

But, because I think it is important that she not be able to say to the rest of their family that we don't acknowledge them at holidays, I send something. I try to send nice things because the crap she sends here? It goes to that special place in the landfill for the worst gifts ever (not really. Usually Goodwill.). So, it is upon me again. Ugh.

I have taken to sending gift cards to department stores for two reasons. One, obviously, super easy! No thought! No postage! And, two, she loathes gift cards. And I mean loathes. Like, she makes passive aggressive remarks in her letters about gift cards are "gifts without thought" and "who wants to receive gift cards?"

And, do you know how hard it is to find a Mother's Day card that isn't gushy? One that doesn't drip with Hallmark sentiment and forced affection? I have actually printed off generic cards on my printer before because I was unable to find one with the appropriate lack of warmth. I have, by golly.

So, I've been thinking. Perhaps we should start a new holiday. One for those of us who must deal with women who raised our wonderful husbands but drive brooms and are employed by and/or are married to Satan. This day could be a day where we really get to say and do all of those things we hold back in deference to the men in our lives. I could tell my MIL she's ugly. I could tell her to quit referring to herself as Grandma to my children in the cards she mails because she is not worthy of the title. I could show her this blog!

So, whaddaya say? Are you in?

Plagued

So, every single member of my family is ill.

The girl has a cough that would make most 3 pack a day smokers envious.

My son has an ear infection and a faucet for a nose.

I am still hacking and enjoying my Puffs with Vicks.

My husband spent most of Friday and Saturday vomiting and on the toilet.

Oh, have you heard about vomiting? Well, apparently it is a new illness that only MY husband has experienced. It hurts. It causes aches and pains unlike any other on earth. NO ONE else has ever had a sickness of the magnitude of this one. Nosirreebob.

This is good news for all of you because MY husband has endured the worst case of vomiting and diarrhea on record. Thus, none of us- especially ME- will ever have an illness to compare to this one. It's true.

His puking set new records. The belly ache which accompanied it was the worst ever felt by a human. His experience was simply the worst ever.

Just ask HIM.

The end.

Weary

I'm tired. Tired of the holidays. Tired of the mess from Christmas. Tired of being a mom. We've all felt this way, I know. This weariness is the curse of being a mother. I love my children but, please, I wish they would go AWAY for a little while.

My son has been exceedingly whiny over the last few days; yesterday I literally dragged him along from room to room as he fussed and whined while holding onto my shirt or leg. He is not ill and has no obvious excuse for his crankiness, he just is needy. Nothing could soothe him; nothing, that is, except 115% of my attention and time. I just don't have it in me to give him that. I just didn't want to. If that makes me a crappy parent, label me. I just don't care.

My daughter is out of school for Christmas break and that is a blessing and a curse in itself. When she is engaged, she is a gigantic help with the baby. He adores her and she him. But when she is done, that's it. Coupled with new distractions like a Nintendo DS, a new Webkinz and neighborhood friends she is nonexistent much of the time. Oh, unless she needs fed, clothed or has a catastrophe that requires all of me at a moment's notice.

I just would like to sleep until I'm ready to get up; not when they are. I want to eat food that I like not stuff that they will. I want to watch Saving Grace in the middle of the day despite the fact that Holly Hunter's character swears like a longshoreman. I want to nap and take long baths, not showers at the speed of light.

I'm feeling selfish and a little raw. I feel like saying "screw all of you" and taking a long drive to nowhere. Not forever just for a while. Just until I want to.

But I won't.

And even if I did, I would feel really bad and even miss the little life-sucking monsters. 'Cause they're cute. And they're mine.

Thanks, Ben Franklin, for a Lousy Night!

Dear Mr. Franklin,

I know that Daylight Savings Time was your brain child. Well, it might have worked for you stronger, Colonial types; those of us, however, in the 21st century are not robust like that. We, sir, are soft folks; those who do not get up at the crow of the cock and do not toil in fields for our food. We are quite thankful for many of your inventions, like bifocals and electricity and, to be frank, those inventions are part of the reason we are not brawny and rugged enough to endure DST.

For instance, this morning, at 3:45am, my ten month old son, woke because his wee body felt it was nearly 5:00am. Ben, may I call you that?, I understand that you were something of a man who liked to imbibe, as well as a lady's man, a playa' if you will, so I think you understand what it is to need your rest. I NEED TO SLEEP, sir. Desperately.

My son is teething. He has a bad cold. I do not get a lot of sleep right now and this DST is not helping. So, I am hoping that you can contact some of your ghost buddies who can get in touch with the White House and have them rescind this ridiculous practice of Spring Ahead, Fall Back. I just cannot take another disruption in my nights that are fraught with them all ready.

There is no need to reply if you are able to work out the problem as stated above. Thanks for your time and I am quite sorry for interrupting your eternal rest but I think you must understand the importance of a letter in changing the world.

Yours truly,
Toni

I Have To Tell This To Someone!

I just finished a twelve page paper for a course that is a, well, to be honest, BITCH!!!!! I took a test a few weeks ago and I almost cried because of it; I felt like I had never seen most of the info on it. I was lost. Somehow, though, I managed to pull a B-, mostly thanks to the fact that it is an internet course and I had all of the online notes on hand and I am a good BS'er.

Well, as I was sourcing my paper, something caught my eye on the syllabus:

Textbooks
Neuliep, J. (2006). Intercultral communication: A contextual approach. London: Sage Publications. ISBN 1-4129-1741-7.

Hmmn. I thought the author to my textbook was Jandt. (Found book and checked.) It is.

Uh. Oh.

Yeah, how freaking stupid am I? I bought the wrong #$%&*@$ text! Or, I should say, I was directed to the wrong book by the fifteen year-old work study flunkie who was manning the bookstore that day!!

No freaking wonder I felt like there was a party that I wasn't invited to when I took the freaking test!

I know I am very much to blame for not noticing this until the 9th week of the quarter. I didn't, though. This caught me out of nowhere. Apparently the texts are similar because I did all of the reading (well, not really, I realize now) and was vaguely familiar with many of the concepts mentioned but the minutiae of the test was like Arabic to me. Now I know why.

This dumbass moment was brought to you by BrainFarts, Inc.
Available to all new moms who have "too many irons in the fire".

Hannah Montana

Miley Cyrus (aka Hannah Montana) is coming to Columbus on December 11th and I thought what a great idea to take Her Highness, my niece and go see this concert for HH's birthday gift (her b-day is 12/9). I even got a hold of some other friends with little 7 and 8 year olds and we were going to make a day of it: shop, dinner, concert. Hell, sounds like a great freakin' time for my birthday, y'know?

So, the plans were hatched. I should have known better than to think it would work out. Way too many variables. At least I didn't tell HH. Oh, she would still be crying.

The day the tickets went on sale, RxMan was all ready. We had verified our credit card info with Ticketmaster and were set to order. 10:00AM rolls around and we are online, along with other friends trying to score tickets. At 10:02, sold out. That pissed me off.

Is Miley Cyrus Elvis reincarnate? Maybe The Beatles? This is ridiculous. Well, turns out that there were pre-sales for fan club members but I still don't know why no one that I know got any tickets on Saturday.

I am pretty disgusted with this whole concert ticket crap. Tickets are outrageously priced and then you can't even get in to see a 14 year old?

So, no concert for us unless I decide to cough up $300+ for tickets. Not gonna happen. Ever.

My Son Loves Boobs!

I am not a person who is very open or out there about my decision to breastfeed The Conqueror; I am not embarrassed but I am a very modest person and, for me, breastfeeding is a private, wonderful thing for my family. That being said, if you are a breastfeeding mom who chooses to do it publicly, good for you! I am not that person but do not want to take that right away from another mom who is working hard, and it can be very hard, to nourish her child.

So, this post over at A Mommy Story really got my juices going this morning. I don't know why America has no problem with Britney, Eve and the likes trampin' around showing off their breasts when a lovely, discreet photo of a mother nursing her infant gets you kicked off Facebook. Can you say RIDICULOUS!??!

Again, as I have mentioned, I am not a breastfeeding nazi. I formula fed Her Highness for a variety of reasons and it was fine. I could explain some of the reasons that I chose to stick it out with TC but the truth is I found it to be the right choice for me. At least we get to make that choice, right?

I hate how, in my family at least, the fact that I breastfeed makes me something of a strange, freakish novelty. At first, family members, would say, "oh, is it time to breastfeed the baby?" Not just feed him but breastfeed him. Whenever it was mentioned the entire group would pause and shudder. There were comments about not wanting a baby hooked to them all the time. My mom would always follow up the conversation where it was revealed with, "Tell 'em, why. Tell 'em about HH's asthma and what the doctor said."

Well, I usually did tell them what she wanted me to. But, I am tired now of sharing excuses why I breastfed my son. I wanted to: damn the asthma, reflux and other issues! For me, it was something I wanted to accomplish and, I am proud to say, I did it. It was sooo hard in the beginning but I stuck it out and, eight months later, we are still nursing successfully.

So, if you are a Facebook member, join Hey Facebook, breastfeeding is not obscene! group to show support. Thanks for listening to my rant this morning!

A Brighter Day

So, as you may have noted from my previous two posts, I am a little on edge lately. Okay, more than a little. I am taking a class that is becoming irritatingly busy, my son has been teething (read: not sleeping well or napping without being held) and I am not sleeping well either. All of these things combined make Toni a very unhappy camper.

It all came to a head last evening when RxMan's co-worker called and asked him to work this coming Sunday. Okay, this is not something that I like to happen anyway but coming off of a weekend where RxMan worked 9-9 Friday, 9-7 Saturday and 10-6 Sunday and The Conqueror's crankiness had reached an all-time high as he cut his third tooth (front upper right), I went ballistic.

My husband's job is a source of conflict between us. He is extremely well-paid for living in the area that we do, and he is very good at what he does; however, he works for an evil, tyrannical company that eats small businesses for breakfast, lunch and dinner. This company, which begins with Wal and ends with Mart, runs our lives. RxMan cannot call off sick. He cannot take a day off because TC or HH is ill or just because he wants to stay home and, oh, paint a room unless he finds coverage for his shift. Now, mind you, he went to college for 5- I mean, 6 (not an honor student)- years and is not just a flunky pushing a broom. Anyway.

I flipped out. I mean I. Flipped. Completely. Out. I used a word that begins with f and ends with k about forty times. I threatened to leave and let him take care of the baby. I threatened divorce. I cried. I shouted. (Don't worry, though, first I sent HH to my room and asked her to turn the TV up loud and shut the door and TC was asleep.) I said I hated the evil empire that he works for and all who work there. I said I didn't sign up for this crap (not really the word but use your imagination), nor did I marry the evil empire 9 years ago and I was tired of taking a backseat to it! And, oh, there was more that I can't remember and cannot print because,hey, this is a mommy blog.

RxMan said I was freaking out and needed meds. (He may be right on the last part.) I said I was going to deck him if he said anything else. Eventually, I calmed down and realized that I had reached my limit. It had been a long, long, lonely weekend and the four walls of our home were closing in on me. The crying and whining from my handsome baby had done me in. And the pesky neighbor kids were just the icing on my cake.

So, the crying and shouting was somewhat cathartic. I slept well and so did The Conqueror. I woke hopeful and feeling positive about the day. Perhaps the boy was going to be back to his pleasant self. And, dare I say it, so far it is true. And not a moment too soon. Phew.

Countdown: 2 Weeks

School starts in two weeks. Holla!!! Now, I am not normally the mom who is pictured on the Office Depot (Office Max? Staples? you get the picture) commercial joyfully pushing a cart full of school supplies through the store. I don't really mind summer break. Her Highness gets an opportunity to sleep in, thus, I do too. (Well, except The Conqueror doesn't, so...) I enjoy the break from dance lessons, doing homework, etc.

But, I know it is time for school to come back in session because the neighbor kids are driving me freakin' crazy. Perhaps I shouldn't say kids because it is one kid. One of HH's fellow princesses who is a little louder and more rambunctious than the others. She also happens to be the one who is home most often when we are, which, as I've mentioned in the past, is most all of the time.

This child, we'll call her Princess W, is a nice girl. She is funny and silly and a great friend to HH. Her parents are wonderful and welcome HH over anytime. The problem with Princess W is that she is loud and obnoxious. (I know, pot meet kettle.) She laughs loudly. She talks loudly. She even walks loudly. She calls at least 40 times a day and always asks for HH, even if it is just to find out when I am picking her up for swim lessons. She bounces and smiles and giggles. And drives me up a dang wall. The mere presence of this child causes me to get angry. I want to drown her smiling, pleasant, loud body in the pool.

Now, it is not always like this. As mentioned, her parents are great. We have become the greatest of friends. That makes it more troublesome that I fantasize about ending their eldest child's life. She is one of the happiest seven- year olds I know and, quite frankly, her happiness factor pisses me off.

I am not a sunny, glass half empty person. I do not overflow with cheer and smiles and can only handle being around those naturally positive, upbeat folks for a while and then it is grating. She has reached that point and gone a bit over. Sometimes I'd just like to shove this girl down on the cement to wipe her happy expression off of her face. Now, don't worry. I won't hurt her. Promise. I will just try to console myself with the fact that school- glorious school- begins in two weeks and she will be there for 6 1/2 hours a day. Thank God.