Tastes Like Chicken

We were driving by a slaughter house in Nebraska and I was saying how, except for a great steak once in a while, I could totally become a vegetarian. The V word in his eyes is akin to telling Jerry Fallwell that you love Satan. It is sure to garner an eye roll among a couple of jabs at PETA and comments on the disintegration of society. He's kind of a carnivore, that husband of mine. Don't even get him started on Vegans.

I've never been a big meat eater. I survived on rice and soy sauce and pretzels for months at a time in college and didn't miss flesh a bit. In the last few years, I'm just getting more and more disgusted by all meat. Aside from nasty chewy pieces of God only knows what in damn near every piece of meat I eat, it's the knowing more than I want to about the slaughter that does me in. I can barely eat meat at all without some sick scene from a documentary flashing in my head. Kinda ruins the mood, ya know?

Anyway, I was trying to explain this when the smart ass interrupts me to say, "Yeah, well what about that poor carrot that was ripped out of the ground when it was innocently growing there just so you can eat it?".

And then I made him pull over so I could choke him with my bare hands.

Maybe Not A Good Strategy But A Strategy None-the-less

I really wanna be calm and be happy and celebrate Anna but truthfully, I'm not going to. I'm gonna be sad. I don't know how not to be sad about her. I am happy, I laugh, and smile and play with the boys, really I'm pretty happy. But I'm sad, too. Anna isn't forgotten by me and those close to me but she's absent. And almost noone notices.

I don't release butterflies or organize memory walks. Those things are great but just not my thing. The only thing I know to do is cry for her. I wish that I could just lay in bed with a bottle of Ambien and sleep straight thru the 26th. I don't want to act happy. I don't want to go to the grocery, answer my phone or get the mail. But life happens and on Feb 26 this year Aidan goes to preschool and Asher and I will run our errands. It'll be a day like every other day for the boys. If you try to call me or invite me somewhere, don't take offense when I say, no. I just want to make it thru the day.

I'm almost hoping for an appearance from Anonymous. Let her say something stupid and mean and I'll unleash piercing raw grief and hopefully make her feel for a second or two how I feel on February 26th. On second thought, the bitch better take February off.

My Numbers Are Buggin'

Numbers don't bother me.

Okay, let me clarify... the numbers on my scale bother me, the numbers in my bank account bother me, and the sadly low number of hours I get to spend alone, they bother me.

The numbers I was referring to are my bloggy numbers. Twitter Followers, Statcounter hits, and Blogger Followers. Hell, the Twitter Followers aren't really my problem. I do something completely stupid over there every day so I'm pretty fucking thrilled I haven't been kicked out.

But these Blogger Followers, that number is right there on my Dashboard and I notice when it changes. Then I do one of two things - Go looking for the new follower like I'm hunting Easter Eggs. My new follower is my egg and I hold it and hug it and love it. Or, like today, try like hell to figure out who unfollowed me. I throw myself on the floor kicking and screaming and cursing the mother-trucker who decided I suck all of a sudden. What did I do wrong? It was the Chat post wasn't it? Gimme a break, I can't be brilliant all the time!

And then there are those damn stats! There was a time I checked them with crackhead intensity. The first time I had 100 hits a day I thought I was one step away from fame. I'm quite far from famous. Like it's not gonna happen. The closest I might get is some pedophile celebrity ahem Micheal Jackson looking here to find nekkid pictures of little boys. The number of perverts that read my blog bothers me. I hear you can block them but I don't know how.

Plans Ala Aidan

Just when I'm running low on blog fodder Aidan comes to the rescue.

On the way to Nebraska he was rattling on in the back seat about how many days and nights were are going to be spending here and what we were gonna be doing each day. Rattling on really isn't the correct term, it was actually more like declaring our itinerary like it was etched in stone. He's kind of a control freak that way. I apparently wasn't taking him seriously enough because when we stopped at a stoplight I hear this...

Mama, you aren't listening to me. I'm trying to tell you how long we're staying here! It's a stoplight, turn around and look at me!

I slowly turn around to look back there - ya know, for kind of a dramatic effect?

Excuse me? Who do you think you're talking to like that?

You! Now look, we are staying this day, this day, this day, this day and we're leaving this day. *touching each of his fingers in a very authorative fashion* Right here! We're leaving on my thumb. You got that, Mama?

I couldn't make this shit up. This is my life.

By The Skin Of His Toes

Aidan takes his shoes off at preschool every day. They don't fight with him about it because, well, that's not likely to lead to him becoming a sociopath so we focus on those behaviors, mkay?

Thursday he stubbed his big toe and tore it up. A bloody, skin hangin' off, nasty mess. He wouldn't let anyone put a bandaid or anything on it so they called me to come try. Like he cooperates with me any more than anyone else, but whatev... I was at Target when they called so I bought him some special Spider Man bandaids and headed into battle.

As soon as I got him sat down and handed him the box of bandaids - which usually makes him ridiculously happy - he takes one look at them and throws the box across the room because they are not Scooby Doo bandaids. I'd bet my husband's paycheck if they were Scooby Doo bandaids he'd have thrown them because they weren't Spider Man bandaids.

Well, today when I was bandaging him up I decided the big gross flap of skin hanging off the tip of his toe needed to come off. Aidan thought otherwise. I'm bigger so the skin came off.

And I paid dearly for that victory.

45 minutes of pathetic crying because he wanted that skin. That was his skin. When I told him his body would make new skin he flipped the hell out because he wanted his old skin.

Please tell me this infuriating, quirky, defiance is not going to last much longer.

On Bended Knee

*on my knees, hands folded, head bowed*

Dear God, 


Tomorrow I am going to be driving to Nebraska with the boys. Please, please, pretty please don't let Aidan throw up or let Asher poop up his back. Please make them sleep. Alot. Please don't let Asher squeal like a little girl piglet the whole way. Please don't let Aidan cackle all the way there. Make the drive as painless as possible. And when we get there can you please, please, pretty please not let Aidan break anything that is gonna cost us more than $20. If he does do more costly damage, please let them take Aidan as payment. Then help them because they're gonna need it.

Am I Raising Children Or Puppies?

This is how Asher enjoys a nice steak and shrimp dinner.

Fill In The Blank

We were in the car Saturday listening to a mix cd that included Katy Perry Hot N Cold.

♪♫♪♫You change your mind, like a girl changes clothes. Yeah, you PMS like a *Mama turns the volume down* I would know. ♪♫♪♫

Aidan knows that when I do that, he is missing out on hearing some bad word. He always asks which one it is and I never say because, hello! what would be the point of not letting him hear it on the song. Here's where it sucks that the kid isn't stupid. It's possible that due to exposure to my colorful vocabulary, it wasn't that difficult for him to fill in the blanks. I said it was possible, I am admitting nothing for certain.

Aidan - What bad word did you not want me to hear on the song?


Me - None of your business.


Aidan - Was it that bitch word?

Knocked Up or Cancer

I've been tired. Really tired. As soon as I wake up, right after a nap, for no reason at all, I'm tired. Fatigued even. I checked to make sure I hadn't been taking my anti-anxiety meds in place of my anti-depressants - which is something I was doing for weeks once before I realized it. No, not a meds mix-up.

What else could it be?

Web MD gave me two options. Cancer or pregnancy.

I told my husband he needed to pick me up a pregnancy test because I'm either pregnant or I've got cancer. Without missing a beat he says, "It better be cancer."

So, obviously no mattress dancin' for him tonight.

But... Oh. my. God. The last time I remember feeling like this was... oh surely not... yes, when I was pregnant with Aidan. Wait! When was my last monthly pimple explosion? Oh hell, it better be cancer. Otherwise somebody got some 'splainin' to do. The makers of Mirena and Dr. Liar Liar Pants On Fire better come up with a visitation schedule and some college money, not to mention damages for pain and suffering.

So I took the test.

Thank almighty God in Heaven! That's the first negative pregnancy test I've ever taken. It's a toss-up as to which made me the happiest.

Baby Scares The Hell Outta Me

Did you guys ever have to take these creepy things home in high school? The Real Baby Simulators for Sex Ed or whatever the hell your school taught. We were in the bible belt so ours was for Sex Ed with the sole purpose to scare the hell out of us. Good tactic, I think. Look at them! Scary. And they're tempermental bastards, too. You know, like if you shake the shit out of them for gurgling all night long, they tell on you in the morning. Then you get detention or in school suspension... Not that I know or anything.

My best friend's neice came along with her to visit this weekend and it was her weekend with the creepy thing baby.

We took that thing out to eat lunch and of course, it cried. People looked at us like we were insane when we held it.

Okay, I never held it. I've got my own kids, no doll can scare me now. It'd be totally wasted on me.

I was reading the booklet that comes home with it, her - Apple Jane, in this case. Do you know these things can 'die' of SIDS? And if it does, you get an F? What kind of bullshit is that?

I'm so glad there is so much strange shit in the world to serve as blog fodder.

Margaret The Terrible

I came mighty close to punching a woman at Aidan's preschool on Tuesday. Very, very close.

I've ranted endlessly about Aidan's behavior issues, especially the ones that publicly humiliate me. And most especially the ones that get him sent home from the church run preschool. I don't know why it embarrasses me more that he gets in trouble there than it would a public preschool but that's a quirk for another blog.

Stay on topic, Sissy.

On Thursdays a counselor from the local Education Coop comes to work with Aidan. Her name is Jamie and Aidan is just getting used to her and likes her. You can tell because on he bowed up and showed his ass on their last visit. She talked about that being a good thing, that he needs to test her to understand her position in their relationship. I'm thinking, great, we're finally getting somewhere and she doesn't want to instantly commit him. Score!

Then Tuesday happened. I stopped by the school to drop something off and inadvertantly walked into the middle of an incident with Aidan. We calmed Aidan down and I asked what set this one off. His teacher pointed to a pinched faced woman in the corner. Margaret. Margaret The Terrible for purposes of this blog. She is from the Coop and she showed up unannounced and took him out of recess to work with him. There are transition steps that have to be followed with Aidan if you want to get anywhere with him. Jamie knew this. Margaret The Terrible didn't. He of course freaked out on her.

This is where I say emphatically that I am not defending his behavior. However, this behavior is why he is in their program. If he were perfectly behaved, we would have no need for the Coop. He and his behavior issues are the sole purpose for her being there. Which is why seeing that she couldn't be bothered to hide her disgust for him pissed me off to the Nth degree. Here are just a few of the quotes uttered by Margaret The Terrible in the 20 minutes I spent with her. Keep in mind that we've been told by his counselors not to discuss his problems in front of him, certainly not to critique him negatively, and to overly praise him when he does well. Margaret The Terrible obviously wasn't instructed in the same manner.

To Aidan - "I thought you were a smart boy, Aidan, but you're not."

To me - "He can't go to Kindergarten like this, this is ridiculous."

To me - "Yeah, your little one is sweet now but he's watching this…"

And when Asher, the 1 year old! didn't pick up a toy when ordered to - "See, there he goes already."

I can't remember the exact quotes but they included the words brat and spoiled, something wrong with him, and lack of discipline.

The whole time the teacher, Aidan, and I picked up the mess, she sat on a chair and rattled on about how she didn't know anything about him, she hadn't read any of Jamie's notes on him, she had no idea blah blah blah. And then added that I was cleaning everything up, not him, and that's why he acts like this because he knows I'm gonna pick up after him and he knows he's gonna get away with it... as if I never discipline him.

Teacher and I were looking at eachother like, "Is this really happening? Is she serious? Where are the fucking hidden cameras?" Okay, that last bit was only in my uncouth mind but you get the jest. There is so much more but I get so damn angry I could spit.

Honestly, am I overreacting? Is it okay for her to tell him he's not smart? That he's a brat? Is it okay for her to critique my parenting when she didn't even bother to open up a fucking file folder to see why she was going to be seeing a kid? Don't you think someone who so obviously dislikes a kid will be completely ineffective in any sort of therapy situation with that kid? Someone please pacify me by saying Margaret The Terrible is a nasty bitch who shouldn't be working with troubled children.

A Chat Between Family

My sister and I were chatting on Facebook during the storm Tuesday night. Then a chat from my mom pops up. Apparently she and my sister are chatting also. This is a perfect example of how my mom and I gang up on her without even realizing it. Not that she doesn't just beg for it.

First, this is between me and my sister. And let's just ignore the obscene time stamps which clearly illustrate that all three of us should have been in bed.

12:56amKid Sister
why are you still up? don't know have kids to take care of in the morning?
12:57amSissy
messing with Aidan - he can't watch cartoons so he won't sleep which makes me his bitch
12:58amKid Sister
lol power out?
12:58amSissy

are you serious? we're chatting on the computer over the internet!
12:59amKid Sister
no, you wouldn't be on the computer, hu?

Then, between me and my mom at roughly the same time.

1:01amMom
I wish you could see this chat I'm having with KS right now
1:01amSissy
why? she and I are chatting, too. she asked me if my power was out. on a computer chat!
1:01amMom
She wrote, about 10 minutes ago "Don't make fun I know you were jealous". And now no matter what she says it just says, "Don't make fun I know you were jealous" about a million times. It's hysterical, I'm afraid I'm gonna wake Opa up laughing. that's funny about the power
1:03amSissy
She's always good for blog fodder!
1:03amMom
She's so damn silly. Honestly, I have tears in my eyes from you two
1:04amSissy
I just pasted "Don't make fun I know you were jealous" and sent it to her about 6 times!
1:04amMom
That's a riot! Now she'll know how I felt when she kept saying, "Vomit. Vomick"
1:05amSissy
ok, now I'm crying
1:05amMom
This is why I can't work. I'm too busy up all night on this thing!

And back to me and Kid Sister

1:03amSissy
Don't make fun I know you were jealous

1:04amSissy
Don't make fun I know you were jealous

1:04mSissy
Don't make fun I know you were jealous

1:05amSissy
Don't make fun I know you were jealous

1:05amSissy
Don't make fun I know you were jealous

1:05amSissy
Don't make fun I know you were jealous

1:06amSissy
Don't make fun I know you were jealous
1:08amKid Sister
what?
1:09amSissy
having chat issues?

1:09amKid Sister
lol yeah. peice of crap
1:10amSissy
sure, blame it on the software. I'm so blogging about this shit!

Let Me Wipe Your Nose

I have made a wonderful discovery today. I now know how to make Asher leave me alone.

Now, don't get your knickers in a bunch, I provide all of his needs. He doesn't need to suck down my sweet tea like he just got in from a hike in the Sahara. Simply telling him 'no' only results in high pitched squealing, rapid stomping, and more often that not, a good kick to my shins.

Apparantly all it takes to send him running is to pull out a tissue and threaten to wipe the oil slick of snot that constantly runs from his nose. This is fantastically useful information!

Let's Clear Something Up

... I keep getting emails directing me to links where that video of the little boy after the dentist that I posted here is also posted, as if to say "Gotcha! That's not your little boy! What are you trying to pull?" I never said that kid was my kid, I said I want to make my kid do that. I didn't say I wrote or created the dramatic reading of the break-up letter either. Technically I didn't say a damn thing seeing as how this is a blog, I wrote it all. Anyway, it's damn funny and when I find the funny, I share. There's nothing shady going on over here so go on back to investigating the links between Obama and Al Queda and leave me out of your conspiracy theories, mkay?

Dear Sir

Dear Pain In The Ass Who's Trying To Buy Our House,

You are pissing me off. I know I'd cut up a puppy to get this house sold but you're pushing it. Why in God's name do you need to look at our house 4 times? Do you think we're secretly adding on a room or that somehow the floor plan is fluid and something is gonna be different? I swear, there are no structural changes planned. We would have put that in the contract. You wanna back the fuck off now? Cuz I'm not letting you in again.

The next thing I'd like to discuss with you is your shitty timing. Why must you always need to see the house during naptime? I know you're two hundred years old but do you remember having small children? You are taking away the only thing that keeps me sane during the day. So knock it off!

Something else you should know is that there are laws against stalking. I'm not sure how they apply to houses but if I see you parked down the street again, I'm gonna find out. I understand loving a house and needing to look at it, really, I do. I drove by our first house seven times a day until we closed on it. But notice I said "drove by". It's kind of creepy seeing you sit in that car watching. You wanna knock that shit off? Pretty please?

Finally, if you love our house and you want to buy our house so much that you've looked at it 4 times, interrupted our schedules, and gave me the heebie jeebies by house stalking us then why in the sam hell would you make such a ridiculous, lowball, insulting offer? I'd kinda like to bitch slap you for that one. Noone in their right mind would accept that offer. And I'd shove your 2nd offer down your throat if we didn't need to sell this house so badly.

The point I'm getting to is that you're on thin ice, Gramps. I'm just bitchy enough to cut you and your cracker jack realtor off and wait for another buyer. You can go buy that piece of shit house down the road, I'm about done.

Thanks a bunch,

Mrs. Inconvenienced Homeowner

Mama's On The Rise

Oh ya'll, Mama's in the big time now! Guess who got asked to review a product? And no, it's not a sex toy - although I suspect it's just a matter of time.

At first I wrote them back and suggested they actually read my blog before continuing with me. I mean really, I'm not your average Holly Homemaker and there are more four letters flying around here than the deck of the USS Kitty Hawk, mkay? But I just got the email confirming that yes, they want Mama to do a review for them.

I plan on writing it from Aidan's perspective, using direct quotes from him. I hope he likes it because his new favorite word is "sucks" and he uses it very appropriately. And if he'll just keep that new favorite finger down when I try to take a picture of him playing with it, we'll be golden.

Kidding! He doesn't do that. Yet.

Proof That Pharmaceuticals Are Awesome

Holy hell, I'm taking Aidan to get a tooth removed ASAP! Have you seen this? This is about the funniest damn thing I've ever seen. Even funnier than the Dramatic Reading Of A Real Break Up Letter. And if you didn't think that was funny, you aren't supposed to be reading this blog, remember?

"Is this real life?"
"Why is this happening to me!?!?"
"Is this gonna be forever!?!?"

Close Call

I spotted him 2 seconds too late. He was hiding which is way unfair in my opinion. I was only going about 15mph over the speed limit, no biggie. I immediately slammed on the brakes. You know, as if to say I repent, oh one with the ticketbook who holds the fate of my insurance rates in his hands. But the prick pulled out right behind me and rode my ass.

Shit! How am I gonna get out of this?

Two options immediately came to mind, The Bimbo and The Scare Him With The Kids. Well hell, for once in their entire existence the boys were not screaming, kicking, or throwing shit. I've got some kind of backward ass luck, don't I? Demon kids vs Police Officer is out.

That leaves The Bimbo. In order to pull off The Bimbo you need to employ some severe eyelash batting and utter some twit phrase like, How 'bout we forget this ever happened, big boy? But then I thought about him responding with a blank stare and Ma'am, can I see your license and registration? which is code for Shut the fuck up, frump! That shit only works if you're a hot chick with cleavage. And then I'd be all, Whatev, Neanderthal! and things could go real bad from there.

Damn, I'm gonna get a fat ticket!

I've been told by police officers that they decide before they ever pull out whether or not the driver is getting a ticket. So I knew when he followed me and made not one, but two turns with me without turning on the blue lights that he was having a hearty laugh at the only idiot on the road actually going 25mph.

And by the way, 25mph is a speed that should only be set for neighborhoods and school zones not the busy ass road in front of Target, mkay?

Laugh it up, Officer Fucks With People, I'll take the increased heartrate over a ticket any day.

I Bow Down To The Funny

You guys are killing me with some of your comments! If I were truly worth a shit I'd do something to reward the hilarity. How 'bout this, if you can actually causes me to leak urine in my undies, I'll let you make an insulting lowball offer on our house. Oh wait, that's already been done several times. Well hell, that's all I had. Anywhooo, here are the contenders...

In response to Step Away From The TV
Jenners said... Instead of thinking "I am a bad parent" think "My kids have good observation skills and can differentiate between unskilled infomercial actresses."

In response to The Calm Before The Storm
Katherine said... ah, it's been so long since i've heard the ole "zero dark thirty in the mornin!" and leave those lazy kids in the car while you sneak in some nachos! I'm just sayin

In response to I Better Not Catch Mother Nature In A Dark Alley
Kritta22 said... Sorry, Mama, it sucks to be you!I agree, Honey, that's why I'm dropping you off at the homeless shelter right across the street. I hope they have a blanket for you. I'll watch you from my warm hotel room right up there. Have fun!

In response to I Never Would Have Guessed
Alicia @ Oh2122 said... Keep her away from the pool. It's wet, you know.

In response to In The Red
Red Headed Mama said... Keep the game, buy a Wii, Sell the kid on ebay

Bad Mama

Mama needs her ass whipped. Ages ago this Honest Scrap award was bestowed upon me by the fantastically funny X Mom and I'm just now getting around to accepting.

Okay, okay, I "took" it a long time ago and it's sitting proudly on my awards list but my official acceptance post never came to pass.

Until now. I am officially accepting. But I'm not following the rules. I never do. I'm a rebellious pain in the ass like that. That's why you guys love me.

Right?

Me And My Big Mouth

One little slip of the tongue and I'm in the dog house, so to speak.  Here's how it went down.

T.V. Commercial: "What's so hot about TV's hottest new series, The Mentalist?"

Me (totally unconsciously): "Uh, him!"

Mr (after a moment of silence): "What did you just say?"

...and I haven't heard the end of it yet.

Honey, you've got the wallet I want to bleed dry, not Simon sexy son of a bitch Baker. You know you're tops in my book.  

Step Away From The TV

It might be time to turn off the TV and kick the kids outside when they notice that the actress in the Space Bag commercial has changed. The last time it came on I heard Aidan exclaim, "Oh no, you've got to be kidding me! That lady uses Space Bags, too?"

I'm so glad the infomercials have made such an impact on his life. Example #6000 that I suck at this parenting thing.