Great women I don't know

probably everyone knows about
www.alittlepregnant.com.
She rocks.
My friend D sent me this link
http://chezmiscarriage.blogs.com/.
She too, rocks.

These woman are saying what I am trying to say about being a mum in the sistahood. They are saying it with humour and intelligence whereas I like to say it with poor grammar and half thought through ideas. I'm like the illiterate equivalent.
My friendship with D is like this too. She is a great writer just waiting to happen and I enjoy riding her coattails and stealing all of her material.

My babes are still rotten-sick. I have heard "I HAVE AN OUCHIE IN MY MOUTH" no less than one million times over the past 5 days. I go a little koo-koo every time I hear it. Like I might need to go sit in the car and smoke a Viginia Slim. Poor little thing. Poor kids too.

I hope you moms reading this have an awesome day today and don't take any shit from the Judge Hards out there. You can meet me in my car for a Viginia Slim if you need to.

oh screw it

I have been brewing and stewing just waiting for Stephie (or as my husband calls her, Daniel Boone, because of her hair) to call. I have fantasies of letting her know just where I stand on the subject of being a SAHM! but the bitch is snubbing me! Snubbing me! She can't dump me, I dump her!
Ya, so, like, I'm pretty cool with the whole thing.

My kids have been sick as pups. Vomiting on me sick. I had to take one in to the emerg. and the nurse (or the waitress and I now like to refer to her as) put us in a room with a dirty sheet on the bed, and a dirty tongue depressor on the dirty sheet. eeeewwww. Of course being the bad mum that I am, I forgot to bring a change of clothes for us. So we sat, all pukey and smelling fine, on the dirty sheet and waited for an hour for the doctor to come in and tell me she has a cold. Personally, I don't VOMIT EVERYWHERE WHEN I HAVE A COLD, DO YOU DR. DUMBASS? I shouldn't wait until bedtime to take these trips but nevermind.

I bought the new People Magazine with Julia Roberts on the front. I just had to see what her life with twins is like compared to mine. Pretty much the same except I have no nannies and am emotionally, physically and mentally exhausted 98.7% of the time and she is radiant and does pilates. So pretty close.

Well, that is my update. No news on the family feud which is disappointing.

Rednecks, Drama Queens and Pop Tarts

Remember Kim? She is the really annoying cousin who likes to sing at reunions. Well she is on my sisters shit list which is not a very good place to be.
See my sister, whom I love dearly, loves nothing more than a high drama that she can somehow inject herself and her opinions into. She is not doing this out of spite, she just does this because she thinks it is her responsibility in life. Cops need to be called? Ooohhhh, she likes that. Somebody irrelevant say something about somebody insignificant? Sounds like a job for a mediator (and you know who that is) Somebody having an affair? Time to discuss. She loves things like the Scott and Lacy Peterson case - follows every word and doesn't see the complete exploitation of the whole thing. It's on CNN, it must be news dammit. Are we clear?
Well it seems that at a dear Uncles funeral last week, cousin Kim (please, if you will, imagine the dueling Banjo song playing while reading this) decided it would be a good idea to completely snub my dad and his girlfriend. It wasn't just Kim, it was her parents and her brother and all the spouses too, but I like to blame Kim for things. My dad and his gal are good people and pretty into the family thing. My dad is the kind of guy who gets super pissed off if anyone talks during the national anthem. I forgot to mention that these people are all Americans which is important to the story as far as imagining their thick (and oddly fake) southern accents. So my dad is really sad at the lack of respect for my Uncle but tries to take the higher ground and says nothing. Well nothing doin! My sister immediately composed a stunning email to Kimmy consisting of bad feelings from10 years ago, wild accusations, demands of apologies and a basic smack down of their entire side of the family. I am loving it. I know I shouldn't egg her on but I can't help but say things like "ya, and do you remember the time Tom almost killed us in his Mustang?"
Tom is Kim's brother. He is, honestly, the creepiest looser I have ever met. He is a high-functioning chimp at best. Once, we were at a restaurant and he ordered up toast and proceeded to pour little honey packets all over his toast until it was floating. Then he yelled at the waitress for too much honey on his toast. He's a freak, I am telling you. He was working as a security guard driving around and his guard car broke down. So he went home and went to bed. In the middle of his shift. Well the car was broken down for god sake, what else was he to do? He also used to hit on me and my sister. Creep factor 50.
So now we have a down home family feud in the works and let me tell you, I am popping popcorn right now and getting all settled in for the show.
I know this story is going nowhere, I just wanted to tell you about my sister and my other cousin.
I have referenced pop tarts in the title as The Kim and Tom's always had every single kind of pop tart in their cupboards to choose from for breakfast. They also drank at least one Coke each per meal. Including breakfast.

Another day, another kick in the crotch

Lets re-cap the weekend shall we?

Friday afternoon.

Stephanie told me that every day for me is a Friday because I don't work.

I don't work? Does she have Downs Syndrome? Okay, that is just mean. I apologize to those with Downs.

It's like this. I promised myself I would get off my feminist high-horse before the weekend because it gets a little old. I really do want to be one of those women who are just cool and groovy with people thinking whatever they want and focusing on my family instead but when the of our own goes around attacking the sisterhood of the mothers, I get a little holier-than-thou. Instead of staging a bra burning in my living room I am venting here. Some therapist somewhere is knowingly nodding in agreement.

Because we have only recently met, she clearly has no idea of who she is dealing with (ewwww you are sooo tough).

Listen Stephie, I work my ass off from morning till night making everyone a happy little camper. If I was not doing this job, I would be paying someone to do it. I am making a sacrifice to be at home with my kids. I am sacrificing a lot of employment opportunity that most-likely won't be there in a couple of years, I am sacrificing my self to some degree - time spent alone, time spent making more money for the family. It's not easy but my husband and I have made the conscience decision to do exactly what we are doing.

I would never make a snippy comment to a mom working out of the home. That has to be hard too. Yes, I sometimes press my entire face up against the window in the morning, in utter awe and envy, as they drive by my house all cleaned up and looking not revolting, but I understand that, they too, are being judged for making the decision that is right for them. That sucks.

I totally respect that there are benefits and downfalls to both lifestyles and some decisions are made out of necessity alone. Doesn't society judge us enough without us judging each other?

Should one person's opinion really bother me so much? Hhhm, guess I just have so much time on my hands to ponder these things because I am a slack-ass-stay-at-home. Between eating the bon bons and watching Tony Danza I am surprised I found the time to care.

Saturday

Running noses. Crying and incessantly whining toddlers. High fevers. Luckily my husband was home to give me lots of advice on how to take care of it all. After all it is my first day.

Sunday

See Saturday and times it by 2.

Thank dog, it's Monday.

Bitter Morning

So we are off to our craft class this morning. I don't feel like chasing everyone around to brush their hair and I don't feel like pretending to be anything but a bitter old hag today. Oh, they are going to love me at painfully cheerful toddler class aren't they.

Things I am annoyed with.

• we (meaning the paycheck bringer and I) have to fight over the same thing 1000 times. If one says he is over it and he understands, then one should shut the hell up about it. Or get therapy for his horrible passive aggression.
• annoying emails from my sister containing half naked men all lubed up and glistening (usually dressed as firemen or cops with their overalls falling off) with stupid catch phrases underneath. Yep, you'll put my fire out baby (yawn)

There is more of course.

• my messy house. I feel like launching myself backwards on to the floor and having a tantrum about it. I used to be a part of this website/group called FLYLADY. Maybe you have heard of it. I believe it is secretly run by the husbands of women I know. It's all about getting your house clean by breaking areas up into 'zones' and by ensuring that, not matter how many people in your home have puked that day, your kitchen sink be shining and glorious. I liked it for the first little while. Then the 154 emails they sent me a day starting driving me a little nuts. Then I felt like BIG BROTHER was watching me. Then I started looking at my husband with suspicion. I guess it's not so much that my house is messy, it's more that I am frustrated that I feel like I am susposed to actually enjoy and be efficient with the drudgery of cleaning the same thing a zillion times a week. Note to self: Tell daughters the truth about being a SAHM! Visit them frequently, send in maids. Share my flask of gin.

It has been brought to my attention

That is appears as though I hate men.

I don't hate men. I think they are a little stupid for the most part, yes, but I don't hate them.

I married one, did I not? So I like them.

But believe you me, if I could get interested in the vag, I would be all over being with a woman. I could use a good wife.

Did you notice that I let Valentine's Day slip by without comment? Hhhmmm, you must be saying.

Valentines Day is just another day that my husband is trying to get raunchy sex out of me. He 'believes' that we should exchange sexy gifts on this day because, after all, it is a day for luuuv-ahs. I do humour him to the best of my tired-messy haired-stretch marked-ability but the days of crazy sex are over - or at least on hold. Ya ya, I'll put on my lacy pink undies and dim the lights but, let's face it, neither of us is up to the circus sex we used to have.

Oh yes, I know what Dr.Phil would have to say about this.

I have read a lot about couples and the need to maintain their sex lives after the babies come along. I have read very little that supports women being given a break and some time off from being all things to all people. I know there are a lot of reasons that moms and dads should be maintaining that 'closeness' but what about the closeness that could potentially come if men just chilled out for a while and let their wives NOT feel guilt for 5 minutes of the day? I know there are some women out there with crazy sex drives after having kids, I just have never ever met one of them.
I get a bit pissed off when everything I read advocates for the man. Maybe I should stop reading MAXIM. Honestly though, maybe it is the man's problem with his sexuality. Not the woman's problem with her lack of it. Can you imagine if Dr. Phil got on t.v. and said "No Sir, this is your problem. You need to give your wife a giant break. If sex once a month is what she wants then you have to respect that. After all, your wife did just spend 9 months having an alien taking over her body only to push it out of her vagina or have major abdominal surgery. Then the little creature cried constantly and sucked mercilessly at her breasts. All the while everyone looking at her with judging eyes and expecting her to know everything."

Ya right. But I suppose there are a lot of things I could read that would support me in my journey through motherhood. I just don't have time to read that with all the t.v. watching I am doing.

Well there's my rant for the day. I love my husband and would love to be able to give him all that porno-type loving found only on The O.C. and the like but he will just have to wait.

At long last

This week has been somewhat interesting.

On the weekend we had to go and have 'one last visit' with Nana a.k.a. The Queen. We quietly gathered around her hospital bed. She was alert and happy to see us. My daughter takes one look at her and, in her innocent two year old way, just starts saying "BYE BYE" over and over and over. We all kind of laughed it off and pretended she was referring to us leaving the hospital in a few minutes (ya... mmkay). Slightly uncomfortable. But it was good and we did our familial duty.
I have a feeling that this might be the longest goodbye. My Nana hung on for 5 years after they gave a couple of weeks. Just put a pillow over my face should I end up in some god-forsaken extended care hospital. My poor little Nana, barely alive, 100 years old and ALL she wanted was some Tums. The nurses would get 2 inches from her face and yell "I'm sorry Rose. NO TUMS!!" If you make it throught the depression, through the days when men could be cheating a-holes with no consequences, the music of the mid 80's, drive her family across Canada in a car with curtain windows by herself and drink Rye like nobody's business (probably at the same time), then I say give her the damn Tums. Is she going to OD on them? Will she get too much calcium?

I had a little incident today. I could use some insight on this if anyone has any. We are at the toddler play group and my gorgeous beast decided she would like to play in the laundry bin. Clearly, we were at someone else's house as my laundry bin has never been empty. So this other little girl (who is named after a continent but not Australia which is what I will call her for the sake of the story) decides she wants to be in it to. I saw this going down from the corner of my eye but left it as I am a firm believer in letting the little ones be as far away from me as humanly possible. So as I sat eating the cookies I had actually brought for the kiddies the argument escalated to Australia hitting my little girl. As she is two and born of me, she whacks her back and Australia drops to the floor an emotionally wounded mess. Australia's mother (who is named after a weather condition but not Rainy which is what I will call her for the sake of the story) rushes to her side and scoops her up. I meander over (shoving the rest of the cookie in) and tell my little one that it is TIME OUT and she needs to apologize. So she relunctantly does and I roll my eyes and smile at Rainy who then says "OH MY GOD! AUSTRALIA HAS A BRUISE ON HER CHEEK!" So Australia gets a big hug and a 37 kisses and my little one is left wondering why in the hell she got punished and had to say sorry but 'ol downunder got nothing but love. I was confused so I explained that it was a fight and they both received a hit from the other and Rainy looked at me with utter disgust. I kick myself now and will probably do so forever more but I I said nothing.
What the fuck?
I know I don't get to decide how other kids are raised but honestly.
Another one of the mothers invited my non-hitting child over for a play date "but maybe just by herself without her sister" (the hitter)
So am I to believe that these kids don't hit? Adults can't control themselves from hitting a lot of the time but we expect a toddler to have the emotional maturity and knowledge to keep it all under control?
I am pissed off that my daughter has developed a reputation already. She hasn't even had the chance to smoke behind the school or wear a big thong with little pants yet.

your secret ain't safe with me

I am thinking about telling someone I know about my blog. Up until now it has been my dirty little secret. With the exception of my husband of course, who only knows of this blog, not it's contents.
The only person I can tell is my friend Darce. She might get pissed though because most of my best material comes straight from her. It just takes way too long to try and give credit where credit is due. The other reason I have hesitated is because she is a really good writer and I am not and I am just that insecure. Also I talk to her 37 times a day and reading my blog will just be redundant to her. But hey, we live in redundancy she and I. Maybe she would like to become a part of my blog? That is quality shit.

reunion volume 3

When I was about 10, my cousin, my sister and I decided it would be fun to sing a song for the family at the reunion. I am not sure about other reunions but on my side of the family, it's all about singing songs. Usually songs about god. So we sang The Lord Said to Noah. It's a kids song that tells the tale of Noah obviously. At the end there is a really cute (and by cute, I mean lame) part when you say "IT SUNK, KERPLUNK, WHAT A ROTTEN PIECE OF JUNK!" The oldies just loved it. My grandparents were pretty stoked that we were so involved.

So the next couple of years we continued to sing 'the song' even though, at this point, my sister was, like, 16 and only came to the reunion because her boyfriends Trans-Am broke down and they couldn't go and not practice safe sex somewhere.

Fastforward to when I am 13. It's the year I get my period, my first face covering of acne and a severe case of self loathing. My sister has dropped out of the group (and highschool) and my cousin is hanging in there because she's an ass kissing suck up who would never hurt anyone's feelings. She wants to wear some matching suck-assy dresses and I am wild-eyed desperate to somehow back out.

After 17 pleading long distance calls to my mother (we spent the summers apart) she manages to convince me that my grandparents are going to die soon and I MUST get up there and sing that song. One more for the road type of thing.

So there I am. Giant diaper sized first 'Kotex' jammed in my granny panties, matching tee shirts with my super-shiny cousin, acne poking through the 6 applications of Clearasil 'skin tone' (ya right!) head down, singing "theres gonna be a floody floody" barely audibly.

At the end two people clapped. Seriously. My grandparents. Total humiliation. God bless those bastards.

recipe for a good day

1. Husband makes coffee before I wake up. We have milk to put in it.
2. Kids do not immediately start yelling "I AM A HUN-GARY"
3. We have bread for peanut butter toast when they are hun-gary
4. Darlings don't need wrestling to the floor to put on clothes. No yelling "BUT I WANNA BE THE NUDIST"
5. Hair looks like shit but I don't actually remember to look in the mirror and brush it until much, much later so who cares right?
6. Work out at the gym without the creepy guy who wears short-shorts, lurking behind me lifting those 5 lb girl-weights, there.
7. CHILDREN NAP! (intense clapping and cheering. some people crying tears of joy) Their brilliant mother figured out that if they were in different rooms, it might be less easy for them to rile each other up. Gave them fake cell phones to 'call' each other as necessary.

Really doesn't matter what happens the rest of the day as the morning went so well. Forgot to mention that the sun is shining so we can actually be outside later. Lovely.

bad mum

I was one bad mum today. I said fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucccccccccccccccccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
followed by a long sigh.

As I have said, the napping thing is driving me nuts.

Yes, I could let it go but, no, I can't.

Between the hours of 3 pm and 6 pm I must say, I don't really like my kids all that much. If they napped I would like them. As it stands they are all over me, under my legs , behind me actually hanging off my jean pockets, sometimes pulling them right down because among the other grotesque things they did to my body, they stole my hips. I saw myself reflected inthe kitchen window today. What a beaut! 4 inch roots, a mass of undergrounder zits forming on my chin from the constant microwave popcorn consumption, child hanging from ass.

So I should have just played with them but I was so tired and felt like crap. I am sure my evil husband gave me something flu-like.

They are in bed now, bless them and husband is out. Must go eat popcorn and watch bad reality tv. Under my blankie with my remote control is where I need to be. Did I just say "blankie"? what a wanker.

serious morning thoughts

As a mother to daughters I have a lot of fear that I will screw them up. It is so important to me that my kids don't grow up hating themselves, or their bodies, and I know that my every move is being watched and will be emulated.

I just got off of the phone with my mother and I am super pissed off with her. It shouldn't be such a big surprise to me that I didn't get any post secondary education (or much anyway) She is such a negative freak. Her insecurities about people who are more educated than her just shine through. She insults pretty much anyone who is educated. Especially women who are smart. And if you are pretty, clearly the only reason you brushed your hair this morning was to rub your superior beauty in her face.

I mentioned that I was interested in taking a course online. "well if you want to deal with all of those people - the geeks - I guess you could do that." I can remember a time in highschool where I was looking through the college course selection book and she just mocked it. Much better to move out with your boyfriend then to get a little education.

I know as an adult that I should quit blaming my mother for things I haven't done and I am trying to do just that by telling you all about it. I can hear Dr. Phil in my head. All of his little quips have rolled into one for me now. Something about a dog on a farm and wanting to be right. Damn Dr. Phil.

So I need to feel empathy for my mother and understand that she and I are different. Also, that time can't be turned back and what is done, is done. I can do better for my daughters if I am aware of the problem right? RIGHT? mmmkay.

My mother had a child kidnapped from her. Yes kidnapped. She had a charmed childhood and an adolesence filled with parental alcoholism. She was special because she was tiny. Valued little pixie.
Honestly, she has done the job to the best of her ability. She has given us humour.

Okay, I have talked myself off the ledge.

what the...?

At 6 a.m. this morning I got a phone call. I leaped from my bed and answered it on the first and a half ring because, clearly, someone in our family had passed away in the night. There was a woman on the other end

her: oh, you are awake. aren't you an early riser! Well, I won't be able to make it today as my brother has passed away in Nova Scotia and I am on route to the airport. Is there a better day for you next week?

Me: Marge?

her: yes dear

me: Marge?

her: yes dear

Me: oh, I am sorry about your brother M..a..r..g..e. Why don't you call me when you get back.

Her: Okay dear talk to you soon, bye bye!

Marge is the Mary Kay lady whom I have talked to on the phone only twice. I didn't actually have an appointment with Marge (at least not to the best of my knowledge) just like when she called me 4 times last Tuesday to confirm another appointment we didn't have.
She is going to give me a free facial for moving into the community.
Does anyone still wear Mary Kay? I really thought it went the way of Bonnie Bell. Or the giant lip smackers lip balm of the 70's.

Anyway, I am going to let Marge come over for the facial even though I dislike her immensely for waking me up at 6. Her brother died poor thing.

I used to steal Mary Kay stuff from a woman I babysat for. She had an entire room FULL of it and paid me $4 / hr for watching 3 kids, so screw her, I thought.