Black and Blue

So I am a slacker of mega proportions when it comes to blogging.

Some days I am determined to get back on the horse 'cause I do love to read about you (I lurk more than comment, though, these days) and love your comments here even more.

Other days, I think I will just throw in the towel.

A little yellow rose from Texas, though, keeps pecking (nicely and gently) and keeps me from doing the latter.

I have so much to say that it seems it would be easier to not say anything. Does that make even a little sense?

So, back to the title of this post: black and blue.

I have spent a great deal of time lately on the ground.

We had an ice storm here in Buckeye land a few weeks ago and then low temps that caused the ice to linger. Last Monday, I stepped out of my car to go to class and then promptly crashed into the car next to me. I bumped my head, back, bum and, worst of all, spilled my coffee.

Two days later, the same. Different locale, same result.

As my blue bruises began to fade into a most unattractive mustard and the throbbing in my neck, back and bum waned, I sat in a chair in class last night that just felt...wrong.

I shoulda listened to my gut.

A few minutes later, I leaned forward to grab something and BOOM! down on the floor I went.

So the bruises on my bum, back, arms and head have cousins now.

But my ego? It may never recover after breaking a chair and landing with a THUD! on the ground in front of 25 semi-strangers.

She Lives!

So, you know it's been a long time since you've blogged if blogger says "who" when you sign in.

Seriously.

The delightful AFF pulled me out of the misery chaos that has filled the last umpteen days/weeks since I have checked into this dusty little place by sending an email entitled "Where you at?"

'Nuff said.

I have been sick. My kids have been sick. Twice. My daughter turned nine. Baby Jesus had a birthday, too. We had family functions and messes to make and subsequently clean up. Now, tomorrow, Liam turns two.

Is this mess of celebrating from Thanksgiving until now EVER GOING TO END?

Seriously. I love my son and am so glad he was born but why in the name of all that is good did I have another child within days of Christmas? What do you buy him that he didn't already get 8 days ago? For Pete's sake, there are still Christmas gifts that need removed from their packaging!

Eeek! I must stop thinking about it and find an empty spot in my overflowing closets to pile our loot from Christmas so that my parents and, God help me, Satan and his wife in-laws are coming tomorrow, along with 10-15 other close friends and family to help further trash the garbage heap that is my house.

Yippee!

So, if there are any of you left who bother to stop by and admire my cobwebs, what's up with you? Did you get anything cool from Santa?

What's In A Name?

Kellan got me thinking about names with this post.

Toni is a fairly common name these days. When I was a kid, though, the only other kids named Tony were boys and that always drove me crazy. In my family, it was sort of customary (for some strange, unknown reason) to name daughters with traditionally boy names. I have an Aunt Tomie and a cousin Terri, among others.

People called me Tonya and Judy (!?) a lot. I never had pencils with my name on them. Until I was doing driver's ed, though, the whole Toni name was little more than an irritation.

When the elderly instructor was calling role, she paused at my name. "Toni D.....?"

"Here."

"Sweetie, could you come up to the desk, please?"

"Uh, okay," and approached the desk, puzzled why I was being asked to come to the desk two minutes after the course began and before she had finished calling out the names of the other students.

"Toni, I need you to write your real name on this list."

"That IS my real name."

"No, sugar, your god-given name. The one on your birth certificate."

"That is it. My name is Toni Lynn D..."

"No, honey, your Christian name. What your mom calls you when you are in trouble."

"No, I get it," I am growing frustrated that this old lady is insinuating that I didn't know my real name at sixteen years old. "My name is Toni. THAT is my NAME."

"Well, you're wrong, dear. Tomorrow bring in your birth certificate and we will sign you back up with your real name. That is something that we need to ensure is correct or you won't be able to drive."

Well, duh.

Much to the old hag's dismay, I did, in fact, know MY NAME. It was, surprisingly, Toni on my birth certificate- not Antonia or Antoinette, as she suspected. She informed me that my name was "simply ridiculous" and my mom "must have hit her head" before naming me.

Incidents like these really stuck with me and influenced the decisions my husband (who goes by initials and is called every wrong group of them imaginable- most offensively, O.J.) and I made when we named our children. While I love the trend of naming both boys and girls last names (like Riley, Cooper or Taylor), I was not setting them up for any of this confusion.

So, what trouble has your name caused you??? Or your kids?

I Have A Confession....

Sometimes I hide from my children.

Yep, I do.

I go into my bedroom and pull the curtains closed making it a little dark and hard to see in there. Then I pile pillows at the bottom of the bed so as to obstruct the view from the doorway of the chair that sits in my room.

My children will come to the door, look in and not see me even though I am in the chair.

Then they move on to another room, looking for me.

And sometimes (sometimes!) they will get distracted by something in another room and forget they were looking for me! And I get a few minutes to be Toni and not Mom!

Now, those are the moments a mom cherishes:sitting in a quiet, slightly dark room, sipping mouthwash a cold drink and relishing the solitude.

Today will be one of those hide in the bedroom days. Indeed.

Claire is home from school and bored to death for the holiday and Liam awoke on the wrong side of the toddler bed at 5!AM!

Yes, today I will skulk into my room and briefly hide from my children.

And, you know what? I'm not even ashamed of it.


Legal note: No children are neglected or injured as a result of this mother's reprieve. She can totally hear everything going on and only hides for a few minutes to recoup her sanity.

What Was I Thinking?

I have always tried to keep the attitude that being a SAHM is a gift that many others would LOVE to have and that I am lucky to be able to stay home with my children.

Well, for the last few days, I would like to return that gift.

My little monster darling Liam has been a terror. He has been constantly tormenting the cat by throwing toys (small and large) at her and running full steam at her just to watch her jump out of her fur and scurry away. These things delight him.

He has also taken to undressing. Apparently going commando is all the rage amongst the toddler set. He shrieks. He cries. He stands at the door shrieking and crying and demanding to be taken outside immediately- do not pass go, do not collect $200 or go pee!

The icing on my cake of crap was last evening when I had just gotten most of his dinner cut into bite sized pieces and put on his plate. I turned for a nano second to grab a spoon and he grabbed his plate and flung it onto the floor.

Chernobyl happened again in my kitchen and I was ground zero because this mom had had. enough. I shrieked. I nearly cried. I demanded that he get into his high chair and I left the room. I left the food on the floor and Claire standing there agape. I went into the bathroom and sat there for a couple minutes because I wanted to kill someone.

Of course, I didn't kill him. Or myself. Or anyone else. But, oh God, I wanted to for just a brief few moments.

This gig is hard. It is exhausting. It is 24/7 and sometimes it sucks big time. Moms don't get a break to watch House or read a Jodi Piccoult novel. Nope. We have to wipe bottoms and hands and mouths. We have to clean up crap and puke and listen to whining and crying.

Sometimes I wonder what the hell I was thinking when I signed up to do this.

Don't you??

Not Going To The Chapel

So, I just found out one of my two oldest friends is getting married in 9 days.

Yep, 9 days.

We aren't that close anymore- I have kids, she doesn't. I'm happily married for 10 years and she's been divorced for 5.

I am happy for her that she is getting remarried. I am just really freaking a bit hurt that she called and told me all about it and then told me she would email pictures to me.

I was her matron of honor and she was mine.

I didn't want to be in her wedding- really, how many times can you be a bridesmaid and still enjoy it?- but I expected and wanted to be invited.

I wasn't.

It was okay at first because she said it was small and family only. Then, as the conversation continued, she said that there would be a cocktail hour and a catered sit down dinner and dancing. She has a mom, brother and one living grandparent and that is it family-wise. The groom has 2 siblings, parents and a grandfather. Who is going to be dancing if it is just family only?

Now, I am hurt and angry and need to send a present.

So, I need your help.

I want to send a lovely, wonderful present that makes her regret that she excluded me from her wedding.

Any ideas?

Regurgitation

You know what I hate?

I hate puke.

I really, really hate people puke but cat puke?

That seriously ticks me off.

I know, all you dog people are going, see, that's why I have a dog. Well, I got a cat so I didn't have to take it out in the middle of the night to go pee, okay? Let's table the canine vs. feline discussion for now, m'kay? See, right now, I don't care if you like cats or dogs 'cause at this point I hate all animals!

When you decide to have a baby, you know there is a certain amount of grossness you will be forced to endure. You know they poop- a lot. You know they drool and spit up.

But when I agreed to allow a cat into my home, I didn't know they puked. You're scoffing, I hear you. But, I swear I didn't know. My mom didn't allow pets of any kind in our home. Ever. So, I was the kid who dreamed of a pet to love and cuddle with. There was absolutely no puke in my dream, I can assure you.

My husband was raised with dogs. Big dogs. I am rather afraid of big dogs. And when we saw the cute little ball of fluff that is our cat? Well, that man who loved big, manly dogs fell head over paws for that tiny little meower.

The thing with our cat, though, is that she is mean. She bites, scratches and attacks. Especially my kids. But, she is a part of the family- just like a cranky, bitter grandparent you love despite the fact they still won't let you pee in the indoor toilet. We do love her. I love her.

Well, I did until this puking started. Now? Now, I am just sick of cleaning up cat puke. For reals.

I also feel like this sudden puking is in retaliation for our vacation. I do! She is fiery mad at us for leaving her and I have cleaned up cat puke daily since we returned.

Oh, and just to add a little cherry to the puke sundae of my day? Liam has diarrhea! Good times, friends, good times.

A Bad Start

Do you ever have those moments when you hate yourself for what you've done or said to your kid?

I just had one of those.

Liam slept late and, as he is our alarm clock, RxMan and I slept late too. So, we woke Claire up a few minutes late and didn't have all of the things ready for her to go to school- y'know packed lunch, bookbag in order, etc. (99% of the time I do all of this the evening before but Liam has been rising at 5! AM! for days and I thought I would have hours before Claire needed to leave- ha!)

As I am frantically gathering her things, I also check her homework for errors and she has done over half of it wrong. Instantly, I flip into psycho-mom mode:

"Claire, your homework is done wrong! Roar!"

"No, I followed the directions!"

"Grumble, grumble, roar, roar! No, you didn't! Now get over here and do it right!"

As this exchange happens, I know this is not the way to handle my still sleepy, very sensitive eight year old but when the ugly head of my father rears, I almost can't suppress it. I am possessed with anger and disappointment and frustration and, for a moment, want to see her cry because I want a reaction.

Of course, the logical Toni and fairly good mom doesn't want her to cry. I want to shush her and rub her bed head and soothe her but, for a couple minutes, I am overcome with emotions that I detested in my own father, who always reacted badly to small situations such as this.

As my daughter, a wonderful, conscientious child, stands there with tears wetting her Hannah Montana nightgown, I feel terrible that I have begun her morning-her school week- with anger and rejection. I try to hug her and she shirks away.

My heart breaks a little more.

I apologize over and over- something my own father never did- and try to mend the hurt. She leaves with a shaky smile and I feel like the worst mom in the world for sending her out into this cold world feeling so small and hurt on a Monday morning.

Back In Business

We arrived home from our vacation at 11am last Sunday (9/14) and I threw laundry in, wrote a paper for a course and began unpacking.

Seven hours later, we lost power.

For nearly five days.

That is a long time, people.

A long, long time to live without a light. Without Noggin. Without the internet.

Whew. A seriously long time.

But, we survived.

The worst, though, was feeling like we were still on vacation: we couldn't really eat a meal at home (no stove). We couldn't bathe at home (no hot water). We had to pee by flashlight.

But, we did have a great vacation. Liam did very well, considering he had never slept anywhere but in his room, in his house, for all of his 20 months. Mostly, he just collapsed at night from utter exhaustion caused from the beach and pool that we lived in for 8 days.

I could complain about his tantrums that caused us to not eat out. I could whine that he was excessively needy and irritable. I could bemoan the fact that we basically didn't leave our beach home away from home for 7 days but I shall not.

Because the neediness was directed (hallelujah!) towards my husband, who felt what it was like to be a SAHM with a needy, whiny, possessive toddler for the first time evah! We saved a bundle of moolah by eating in and doing little shopping. And, we got to spend time together. As a family.

And, overall, it was just what we needed.

So, I thank you all for checking in here while I have been unavailable for a few weeks and I cannot WAIT to hear/read what you all have been up to.

Tell me, what is up with you....anyone pregnant? Moving? What's new?

Power-less

Ike tore up the Texas coastal area.

The hurricane then tore up the midwest and landed in my area, leaving us without power from Sunday evening until...well, I'll have to keep you posted on that one because I am completely in the dark at my house.

I am borrowing my dad's computer while my family and I bathe and catch a hot meal.

Don't feel sorry for us because we should (fingers crossed) have power by next week while so many in Texas will not for months.

I simply wanted you all to know I didn't fall off the face of the earth!

Good Times

My car wouldn't start on Friday morning.

Instead of panicking, I chose to see this as a good thing seeing as how we leave for Hilton Head Island on September 5. Better now than then, right?

Then, I learned that the dealer, who must work on my vehicle because of the warranty, is booked solid until Thursday, August 28.

Guess who had to beg, borrow, steal and threaten a lawsuit to get a crummy loaner car? I mean, even us SAHMs must run to The Wal-Mart once in a while, right? Imagine their surprise that I refused to go 7 days without a vehicle!

And, just for a little more rain on my parade, the main drain for two of our bathrooms chose last night to clog up and begin backing up into the tubs. Can you say ew?

So, now I get to spend today waiting on the plumber to come, writing a ginormous check to cover his time and, then, cleaning used toilet paper out of my bathtubs...what fun!

So, what's on your agenda today???

Irony

I am married to a pharmacist and I hate medicine.

I really hate medicine.

I will wait for hours before taking a couple ibuprofen to clear up a headache.

I will suffer with sniffles and stuffiness for days before taking Claritin.

I rarely carry my asthma inhaler with me.

Now, I am fighting the doldrums and just can't make myself go to a doctor and see if I need to be medicated.

For some reason- okay, I know why and it all goes back to the people who raised me- I equate medicine with weakness. And medicine that helps with issues such as depression the doldrums and anxiety? Well, those are for the weakest of the weak! Those meds are for people who can't deal with life and all that that entails!

Pish! Posh!

I am strong. I am woman! Hear me roar!

Yeah, I've been doing a lot of roaring and it is at my kids and husband. For no good reason other than that I feel like I am walking around on eggshells- all. the. time. I also feel like I am just about the worst wife and mother on the planet.

But, the hardest thing for me to deal with is that I have little reason to feel so crappy all the time. I am happily married. I am healthy. I am going on vacation in 17 days. My life is really, really good.

But, still....

I can't shake this sense of impending doom. The vacation is causing some anxiety as it will be the first time Liam has slept away from home. Also, the family who we are supposed to travel with may or may not be going. This isn't a big deal (because there is a perfectly good reason) but I am left feeling unsure and up in the air and it is causing me a lot of concern because I just don't know what is happening. It is also a trip of about 700 miles one way. And, I am worried about Liam's traveling and that we are going to die in a car accident.

You know- little things.

So, I go to visit the troll who is my gynecologist on Thursday for our annual visit and I am really going to try to bring this up to her. She, however, is not the most understanding or empathetic lady in the world so I don't know if it will get me anywhere but I will try to talk to her about it....

Maybe...

Yeah, probably not.

'Cause I'm the pharmacist's wife who hates doctors and pills....

Underfoot

Liam has recently perfected the art of taking off his socks on his own.

Around the same time, he also began walking on tip toe. We, of course, found this cute and adorable and laughed about it.

We noticed that it was mainly occurring only when he walked on our (uncarpeted) kitchen floor. I assumed it was because it was cold and laughed some more.

Then, one day last week, he began whining and walking on tip toe at the same time.

I thought he was just whining (as usual) and then watched him walk en pointe, whining, until he reached the carpeted area and then he took off as normal and stopped grumbling. Hmmn.

Strange.

So, I, being the savvy detective, looked around and tried to figure out what was the culprit.

It only took a brief glance at the floor and it dawned on me....

My floors are so dirty that my toddler is disgusted to the point he has to walk tippy toed through or it hurts his tender feet.

Nice, right?

Instead of succumbing to embarrassment,which would have forced me to get the broom, Swiffer, bucket and mop and clean the daggum floors, I chose to make it a life lesson for him: don't take off the socks that your mother put on your feet- they're there for a reason!

Pretty clever, don't ya think?

Babysitter Blues

**As I type this, I am reminding myself I was once young and selfish.

For the last couple of months, we have been paying this seventeen year old granddaughter of my mother's friend to watch our children. Lately, she has mostly watched Liam while my husband and I attended Claire's softball games. We didn't take him because he is in a bullying, aggressive stage and tried to take out the other little children that were there and because I was tired of trying to stop him from eating rocks and running on the field.

It was a real relief to have her. Recently, though, I have been a little irritated with some of the things she has done. One thing is she doesn't pick up after herself; my house is a wreck when she leaves. I think this is in part my own fault as I wasn't specific in wanting her to do this. The second and most annoying thing is that she is on my computer when I am not home. Again, I didn't specify that she not do this but I don't like it. Mostly because if my kid is awake and she is only going to be there two hours, she should be devoting all of her time to playing with him.

Then one day I saw her Facebook page after she left. I don't know how it happened but as I was shutting down my PC before an electrical storm, the page popped up. Of course, I looked! I am a nosy person by nature and I had to peek, especially because it was on MY computer and she was doing it while at MY house, watching MY awake kid.

I didn't like what I saw. There were pictures of her with alcohol in her hands and some of the things written were really sexually charged. Now, this page was only on my screen for a few seconds but long enough to change my entire opinion of this girl who I thought was very sweet and innocent. My husband assured me that more teenagers are like this than not and not to worry about it because she isn't doing those things while at our house.

Still, though...

So, I ignored my hesitations because, well, it is difficult to find someone to watch your kid- you know that. She is nice and both of my kids like her. Her family is close to mine. She watched Liam last evening for Claire's last game and was supposed to watch him again this weekend for her dance recital.

As I am walking out the door to take Claire to her game, the sitter, Molly, says, "Oh, about Saturday. I can't watch Liam 'cause I made plans to go to a lake with my friends."

What!!!?? Excuse me??!!

You can't watch my kid while my husband and I go watch my other kid in a dance recital just so you can go have sex to a lake???

I am furious. Livid. I can hardly look at her without smacking her pink lip gloss off her sunburned, seventeen year-old face. I say, "okay" and leave.

Now my husband cannot go as we have no one else to watch Liam. *steam rising from my ears*

At this point, the biggest part of me says good riddance to bad rubbish. I am pissed as hell that she doesn't have the forethought to see how importance a recital is to a family whose child is in it. I have no plans to take her up on her shrugged off, "if you can't find anyone else, I guess I can still do it...sigh". Nope. This family is done paying her $7 an hour to watch my darling boy. We will make do, as always.

Teenagers! Ugh!

What A Tangled Web

My daughter and my niece take ballet and hip hop classes together so my sister-in-law and my husband take turns shuttling them back and forth. (I don't do it because I take care of The Conqueror whose bedtime falls smack in the midst of class time.) On Thursday evening, it was my SILs turn to do the chauffeuring. They arrived home much later than I expected them to so when Her Highness came inside, I asked if class ran over.

"No," she replied. "We went to eat." That isn't entirely unusual that the girls demand a snack so I thought little of it until she said that they'd eaten in.

"Well, where did you go?"

She replied that they'd eaten at a wing joint. Honestly, I was irritated that my SIL took my 8 year old into this particular establishment at 8:00 on a Thursday night because it is more of a bar than a restaurant in the evenings. I was peeved but my SIL and brother have very different views on parenting than I do so I tried to play it cool. That is until Her Highness said the following.

"Aunt Soandso said not to tell you she took me in there."

"What?!"

"Yeah, she said to tell you that it took a long time to get home."

Well, I was furious at this point. She told my kid to lie to me! Are you freaking kidding me!?
So, being me, I got on the phone and called and left a scathing message for her to find when she arrived home.

I sent HH to the shower and tried to calm myself. Soon, the phone rang.

It was SIL and she was furious that I had called and insinuated that she had told HH to lie. Of course, I believed my kid. She doesn't lie.

SIL was adamant and after five minutes of listening to her, I realized that she must be telling the truth. She said, "I knew she was going to tell you we were there. She tells you everything. We were only in there a few minutes picking up food. I knew you wouldn't like it but we didn't stay long."

I was forced to realize that my daughter had lied to me.

As soon as I confronted her, she began sobbing. Readily, she admitted that she had lied. She had no reason why she lied other than she thought she was going to be in trouble for going to this place. I explained that she wouldn't be in trouble; she is a child and was with a grown up and had no choice but to go there. I resisted the urge to rip her apart and told her that I loved her no matter what but that she couldn't lie to me anymore and that her lie had caused me to argue with Aunt Soandso. She bawled and apologized, vowing never to do it again.

And then I made her call my SIL. I didn't want to; she was so sad and upset and I felt like my disappointment and disapproval were really hurting her (she's a pleaser, God help me). It was really hard to push it that extra step but I felt I had to to prove the point and drive home the message that lying was not tolerated.

She called and cried and apologized. Then I hugged her and put her to bed, promising not to tell Daddy (I did tell him) and that it was over.

This was a situation I had yet to deal with; I think I did the right thing but it was really hard.

Seems this motherhood gig only gets harder as they get older.

And I thought the sleeping issues with the little one were hard. Yeah, right.

Haiku Friday

Mutating laundry
Sort, wash, fold, put away
More to do again?

Washer is a thief
Socks are put in two by two
Return as orphans

***************
Tough week for haiku
No excitement in my life
This will have to do

To find more Haiku, go here.

Perspective

I was feeling a little sorry for myself as I sat down at my computer this evening. A little tired from a long, cranky weekend which began with a well visit to the pediatrician and immunizations. Ugh. The visit went mostly well. The baby, who isn't such a baby at 23.2 lbs and 30 inches but will always be my baby, is healthy and "precocious", according to the doc. My head swelled and I silently patted myself on the back for raising such a wonderful child who reached for the doctor and blew kisses to the nurse. Yes, that is my child.

The doctor, during his full body exam, pointed something out to us but said not to worry. Yet. There was no cause for alarm. Yet. In the headiness of the back patting and overall love fest that was the doctor visit and then the dreaded and horrid and godawful shots which shot my weekend to hell and back, I didn't focus on the yets.

That came later. And, now, I have thought about those yets. And they are scaring the bejesus out of me. So, I was feeling pretty low when I sat down tonight. Indeed.

Then I went to MamaGeek's place, as always, and saw this. Then here and here. Hmmn. Perhaps the thing I am worried about isn't such an immediate worry after all. 'Cause WhyMommy is having something happen tomorrow that is a big deal now. You see, yet is now for her. So, go send this momma some bloggy love. She really needs it.