a whole new world

A couple of weeks before we moved we made the 8 hour drive to the new area to find a house to rent and get W into kindergarten. I wanted to be able to move directly into a house instead of having to stay in a hotel for awhile as living the hotel life with 4 young kids seriously blows. On our way up I fell asleep and when I woke up, we were pretty close to the new town.

Everyone had always told me how awesome the area was and how much I was going to love it there because they had loved it so when I woke up and saw the surroundings, I asked Mark why we were lost and where he had taken a wrong turn. And then he gave me the devastating news that we were not in fact lost, but we were right where we were supposed to be. WHAT?! No, seriously. WHAT?! This was not at all what I was expecting.

For real, it was like the city planner had no idea what to do with the area so he was like, "I have a GREAT idea!! Lets give my 18 month old a box of crayons and a piece of paper and we will turn whatever he scribbles down into the road map for the city. Then I'll have my 3 year old play Monopoly and we will use her gameboard as the plan for where we will put our buildings." Because really, only here could it take you 25 minutes and 15 left turns onto side streets to get to a bigger street which will change names 6 times and then turn into a 1 lane gravel road that you have to take to get to the next bigger street. And only here can you find a Holiday Inn Express next to a Korean church that is between a Wendy's and a tobacco shop, which are located in the same strip mall as a day care and a health food store which are a less than a block away from a trailer park straight out of 1973 and brand new apartment complex.

And let us not forget the Super Walmart, which can be found approximately every 2.3 miles. Super Walmart, I'm coming to find, is this area's version of Starbucks. There is one on every corner and it is where everyone congregates. I should have known this was not the place for me when I realized that Super Walmart was the nicest grocery store in the area. Yes, I am a snob. I'll admit it, I'll own it, I'll wear a t-shirt that says it. I hate Walmart. HATE IT. I don't DO Walmart.

We've all seen that website peopleofwalmart.com. Hours of fun. But I was always like, whatever, that is staged, these people don't exist. Oh no. No, no no. They do exist and they ALL live in my town and go to the Walmarts I have to go to. Whenever I go I have to spend the day working up to it. By the time I have the courage to go, it is late and potentially dangerous because here, all of the weirdos come out at 8pm.

When we moved here M made a rule that no one goes out past 8-- he didn't feel it was safe and I was like, Ok, whatever. Holy overreact much. But this time, he was right. One night I had to go to Walmart and it was 8:13. And he told me not to go, just wait, go in the morning, but me being the stubborn freak that I am was like, no, I'll be fine. Seriously, what is the worst that could happen? HA!

Yo. When I got there there was a drunk guy too drunk to open the refrigerated beer case and spent a good 3 minutes cussing the fridge out and banging on the doors before he realized he had to PULL them open, instead of slide them open. That in addition to the load of screaming kids who were pulling juice bottles off the shelves and running around while their parents screamed at them to stop doing that and come back, but who didn't bother to actually GO GET THEM. And everyone was just mean, in bad moods and seriously rude.

It took me nearly 2 hours to navigate through the madness while I tried to decipher if what I was seeing was actually real or not. It was like entering an entirely different world and all the while I contemplated if I should get a permit to carry a concealed weapon. These people were crazy, and not crazy in a legitimate way where you know they need help and feel bad for them, but crazy in a way where you are like, "Hey, didn't I see you on COPS last week? We're you the one beating the crap out of your ex-husband's car with a crowbar? Or were you the one who was calling the cops because you hit on your neighbor's boyfriend and she proceeded to beat the crap out of you? Or were you the one who called the cops because your dealer "stole" 20 bucks from you after your "transaction" and it made you mad and you wanted him arrested, while forgetting you still had drugs on you and got arrested yourself"?

When I finally got to the checkout after waiting the requisite 35 minutes in line, I made small talk with the checker and found she wasn't from "around here" either and thought as highly of the place as I did. And then directly in front of us, in the Customer Service area, we heard a commotion brewing. There was a woman there demanding to see the manager. She was clearly unhappy, evidenced by the fact that every other word she said was a swear word. The manager came up and she proceeded to lay into him with her complaints. He was trying to calm her down but she just kept on, and on, and on, and on, and on... Her chief complaint? "I COME HERE EVERY TUESDAY NIGHT AND WHEN I GET HERE THERE IS NOTHING ON THE SHELVES AND THE AISLES ARE FILLED WITH PALLETS AND BOXES". Um, ok. Well, common sense would tell you that if there was nothing on the shelves and there were boxes and pallets filling the aisles, maybe you should come the next day, after they have restocked the shelves with the contents of the pallets and boxes??? Maybe?? Yeah...

He tried explaining that to her, which made her more mad, then she started laying into him about how they never have what she wants and they used to have what she wants but they don't now and they should know what she wants... and the manager tried telling her that it wasn't that simple and that things weren't how they used to be and things had changed, to which she responded, "YEAH?! WELL MY MONEY HASN'T CHANGED YOU DUMB@$$." Yeah...

So she started moving closer to me, and I'm thinking, no, you don't need to be closer to me, and oh dang, how am I going to get out of here? This situation is escalating and she's getting more mad. Meanwhile my checker is looking on the belt for anything sharp I may have bought so she can use it in her defense. It was time for me to leave and she was showing no signs of letting up and moving closer to me, so I calmly put my hands up and said, "Ma'am, go home. Just, go home. We've all heard your complaints, we understand them, just, go home before you get into trouble. It isn't worth it, just go home." And OH MY GOODNESS did all hell break loose. She came at me and put her fingers in my face and screamed at me like I have never been screamed at before. "YOU GO HOME YOU DUMB B!TC4!! YOU GO HOME! THIS IS A FREE COUNTRY AND I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT!! YOU GO HOME!!!." Yeah...

Well, 1) I'm trying to go home, but you are in my way 2) Did you really just pull the "free country" card with me? I mean really, by doing so you've just given me a full deck to play from, including the "what have you done for our country lately to ensure your freedoms and blah blah blah" card and 3) Are you really saying "free country" in Walmart? The symbol of oppression and everything that ISN'T "free" in America? Yeah, ok. Whatever lady, move along.

But she was relentless and would not stop. Calling me names over and over, following me, screaming at me to go home. I kept calm, told her I was trying to go home and that maybe she should walk out with me and go to her car so she could go home too... it was ridiculous. The entire time the manager had this look in his eyes like "Oh no. We didn't go over this in my training, what do I do??" He ended up having someone stay with the out of control lady while he ushered me out of the store. He was legitimately scared. He asked me where my car was, told me he wasn't going to leave until I had left and I kept assuring him I was fine, that I could take her if she came at me and that he should probably call the cops because the only way she was going to be leaving that night was in handcuffs, or on a gurney after someone tazed her or knocked her out.

Should I have gotten involved? Probably not. But I had to leave, she was right in my way. There was no way I was going to get out of there because she wasn't going anywhere and there was no way I was going to be sticking around to wait for her to be done. And Mr. Manager really had no idea what he was doing so the situation wasn't showing any signs of diffusing. I've worked with plenty of "questionable" people before... but dang. This was an entirely new experience.

So while I didn't get into trouble or really do anything malicious, I can officially say I have been escorted out of Walmart by the manager after getting into an altercation with another customer. I believe I am now a stereotype.

why "mommy and me" can bite me.

It's no secret that I don't do mom's groups and other things of that nature. It isn't because I'm a recluse or anti social, most of the time, it's just that I don't have the patience or energy to deal with the other moms. I'm know some moms are great and live in reality, but the few who aren't really get to me.

I can't deal with the sense of entitlement, lack of perspective and general BS that those few present. And you know you know the BS type: the ones who somehow manage to wake up early and get dressed, have perfect hair and makeup, make their kids a full hot breakfast from scratch, do the school run, spend an hour at the gym, come home clean their house from top to bottom while managing the responsibilities of being the PTA president and church Bible study leader, have a martini lunch with their gal pals, go to playgroup, spend lots of floor and play time with their baby, wash, dry, iron and fold the laundry, pick the big kids up from school, do arts and crafts time with the kids, do their science fair project for them, make 500 cupcakes complete with gum paste animals for the school bake sale, make a wholesome and organic dinner, clean the kitchen, bathe the kids, knit a sweater for their friend's new baby, be a good wife and "spend time" with her husband, set everything out and make lunches for the next day and still get a full night's sleep, only to wake up and repeat it all again. Yeah, them. There's no way they do all of that. None. I'm not buying it. I think they only say it to make themselves feel better and to make the rest of us little people feel bad about letting our kids watch DVDs and feeding them fast food every once in awhile. And if they do manage to do it all, I'd like to know exactly how and if they are popping their kids Ritalin or not.

I also can't deal with moms who refuse to control their kids and I really can't deal with the moms who think their kids are perfect and can do no wrong and refuse to implement any type of consequence. Honestly, those are the worst behaved kids of the bunch. Am I saying my kids are perfect? No. Absolutely not, of course they have their moments and some days they have quite a few of them. But I make darn sure that I am raising polite and respectful kids who know that there are consequences for their actions. I am raising them to know right from wrong and to be kind to those around them. They know they are not entitled to anything and if they want something, they aren't going to get it, just because they want it. They are quickly learning they are going to have to wait for it and/or earn it because that is how the real world works. And there seems to be a serious lack of this in the rest of society.

Case in point, story time today at the book store. Allow me to paint the picture:

14 kids, ages 7 months to 5 years. Half the kids had attentive parents and were sitting quietly, listening to the stories being read. The other half had parents who didn't give a tiny little rat's butt about what was going on and their kids were climbing and running all over the place, getting in everyone's way and making it so no one could see or hear. One kid even knocked the book out of the reader's hands. One mother was drinking her second latte and reading a magazine. One father was playing games on his cell phone while his wife chatted with her friend. Another was busy doing a game book and the other was practically asleep. And all but 1 of these parents had kids age 2 and under. Why you would not pay attention to your child who is less than 2 years old is beyond me. Am I being judgmental? Quite possibly, but I'm just stating the facts... just setting the scene...

When we got to the book store, there were quite a few kids playing at the train table. W and CB wanted to play but I told them we would wait until the little kids had left. We waited, did story time, and then went back to the train table while all of the other kids were still in the story area. W got the train he wanted to play with, Toby, and put it in line with all of the other trains. Keep in mind, there weren't any other kids around. Within minutes, one of the other kids came over and plopped down right next to W. And when I say next to him, I mean the kid literally sat on W's shoes. This kid was probably a little older than 2, and he was one of the kids who had ruined the story time earlier. The kid wasn't interested in playing with the trains, but was playing with the stuff on the side of the table. Then he suddenly decided he wanted to play with Toby, and he grabbed it from W's train, while W was playing with it, and ran off with it. This, of course, upset W and he voiced his concern that this kid had just jacked his train. And before I could say anything, the kids mother looked at W and said, "Well, you have all of the train cars, there's no reason YOU should have all of the trains, if he wants that one, he can play with it".

Um, what?! Oh no you didn't just reprimand my kid while your kid just jacked something my kid was playing with, without asking. I tried to distract W and explain that we needed to share and blah blah blah. Keep in mind, there was no one else around before this kid came over and the kid wasn't playing with the trains before so of course W had all of the train cars. Yes, the kid is 2, he probably doesn't know the "rules" but his mom sure does. The kid should have asked, or SHE should have asked W if the kid could play with it. If W had known the kid wanted to play with the trains, he would have shared. He's cool like that.

Almost immediately, the kid lost interest in the train car. The mom took the train car from the kid and just held it. And kept holding it. I finally asked her if W could play with the car because her kid wasn't and she set it down. W said thank you. Then he went to rearrange the train cars he was playing with (which was only half of them because he had put some aside for other kids to play with) and as he was picking up Toby, the mother scooped in and GRABBED IT FROM HIS HANDS, saying that her kid wanted to play with it.

OH. NO. YOU. DIDN'T. Someone hold my earrings and call for an ambulance because this chick is gonna need one in about 34 seconds. Seriously?? SERIOUSLY?! You are going to take back the toy you just put down so your kid can play with it, and just stand there holding it, when your kid isn't even nearby or wanting to play with it? And GRAB it from my kid? Literally TAKE it from his hands?!

W got really upset and so did I. He started to cry, I told him very loudly, so she could hear, that it was VERY VERY rude for someone to take the toys someone else was playing with without asking, and she was not right for doing that, hoping she was paying attention and would feel at least somewhat bad. But no, she didn't, and proceeded to defend herself to her husband and then bash my lack of parenting skills. Yes, yes, your kid is perfect and can do no wrong and you are mother of the year, I get it.

I had to leave. What was I supposed to do? It is my responsibility to set a good example for my kids and going off on her or rearranging her face wasn't exactly going to accomplish that. Besides that, I don't really want to spend our spare cash on bail money.

I wish I wouldn't have left. I wish I would have come up with SOMETHING to say to her. Anything. But I couldn't. I was too upset about what she had done. And you know that is a big deal for me because I can pretty much always come up with something to say. All I can say though is homegirl is VERY lucky I don't have any pregnancy hormones coursing through my blood and that the doctor gave me a nice little pill to help control my raging PMDD because she really would have been leaving in an ambulance and I would have been leaving in handcuffs.

So I ask you, my fellow wise and good mothers who control your kids in public and aren't self entitled jerks, what would you have done in this situation? What should I have done? Was I wrong in anyway? Am I just as responsible for the situation as she was? Did I violate some secret train table code I'm not aware of? I'd really like to know because 5 hours later, I'm still really upset about this.

And this is precisely why I don't do the group thing. I just can't handle the stress.

fyi:

My uterus, the contents of it and the potential contents of it are not up for discussion, comprende? Contrary to what you may think, it is not polite or even socially acceptable for you to ask a woman, pregnant or not, if she is going to get her tubes tied. It is not nice to ask, "just how many of those are you are planning on popping out?" when talking to a pregnant woman, especially one who is carrying multiples. I'm not going to "pop out" anything, thankyouverymuch. For the record, I'm planning on having approximately 17,000 children, just to spite you.

It is not a good idea to tell a pregnant woman, as she is walking into Starbucks, that caffeine is not good for the baby. Yeah? Well my fist isn't good for your face either. Why, why, why would you purposely put yourself in harm's way? I'll claim self defense when they arrest me for making it so your nose touches your left ear. You were harassing me. For all you know, I am walking into Starbucks because I have a wicked hankering for an overpriced pastry. Don't judge me! Maybe I was up all night with back pain and leg cramps and bathroom trips and my Grande Iced Toffee Nut Latte is the one freaking thing I had to look forward to all day and now you just ruined it. BITE ME.

And as I'm lumbering my not so graceful body out of my van, do not whistle at me. That isn't nice. I know that's not a, "DANG! You are so hot and I want you to have all of my babies", whistle. That whistle was a, "DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG! Should I call 911 right now because you look like you are going to DIE?", whistle and it was rude. Now beat it.

When I say I'm huge and look like I'm "ready to pop" because I'm having twins, don't ask me why I want to have twins, or choose to have twins when I already have 2 kids under the age of 4. Don't roll your eyes and tell me that it's better me than you or that I'm going to have my hands full. I know this. I know I am completely blessed to be having these babies, and even with all the pain and grossness of this pregnancy, I wouldn't trade it for the world but I didn't choose to have twins. I didn't ask to have twins. It wasn't like I got down on my knees and prayed to God every night, "Lord, please impregnate me with twins because my life isn't stressful and challenging enough. Please give me twins because I am so completely enamored with the first 8 months of life after my babies are born, breastfeeding issues, sleep deprivation, postpartum depression and all, that I think it would be so awesome to do all of that, times 2." No. That is not how it went. I didn't ask to have twins, didn't choose to have twins, I was blessed with them. It was out of my hands and thank goodness it was because while I would have never chosen this, I am so, SO incredibly happy that we are here right now.

At the same time, don't ask me if they are natural. All babies are natural. Have you ever seen an "unnatural" baby? Let me know if you have, because I'd like to see that too. Yes, of course they are "natural". Do you mean, are they spontaneous? Are you asking how they were conceived? Does it really matter? Thank you for not being like the lady in the waiting room who wanted all of the details about how these babies were conceived, time frames, positioning and more, but I'm still not going to get into it with you. I don't even know you.

I understand that people are interested in pregnancy and want to enjoy it with me, but there is a line that is quickly crossed between genuinely caring and downright rude and judgmental. For the most part, people just jump right over that line and dive head first into the rude and judgmental pool. Yes, I am much more sensitive than I normally am, but really, just keep your mouths shut people. The world, at least my world, will be a much happier place. And as long as mama's happy...

all for a good night's sleep

A few weeks after I moved back to Germany, I decided we had to get a new mattress. I was waking up all geriatric like every morning-- stiff back, sore neck, aching knees. And that was even with sleeping with an extra pillow or 2 for support. I went to the on post furniture store and picked out the fluffiest, biggest pillow top mattress I found and ordered it. Then I was told they didn't have it in stock, but they would order it and it would be here in 4 weeks. That was a bummer because I was really hoping I could get it before M came home because he is just as geriatric as I am...

In anticipation of our mattress arriving, we converted CB's crib into a bed and moved our full size mattress set from the 3rd floor guest room to the kids' room so CB could sleep on it. The plan was to move our existing queen size bed from our room to the third floor guest room and use it as a guest bed once our new bed got here.

4 weeks came and went, and there was still no sign of our new bed coming. The day after Thanksgiving we went down there and asked what was up. It was then that they chose to inform me that the bed I had ordered was actually on purchase order status, which meant that the company would not ship the mattress until they had an entire crate worth of orders for that mattress from our particular furniture store. Oh, ok. Glad you told me that NOW, idiot.

We were in desperate need of a bed because M's parents were coming in a week and there was no way I was going to convert CB's bed back into the crib and move that mattress back upstairs. I asked the guy to go to the stock room and tell me exactly what queen size beds they had so I could choose one. Of course, they had a plethora of firm mattresses, but only 2 plush ones and one pillow top and one wanna be pillow top. The good pillow top was actually a discontinued mattress and wasn't on the floor, so I never saw it, but they had like 6 of them in the back. Here's a tip for you guys: If you want to sell something, PUT IT WHERE PEOPLE CAN SEE IT! We went and looked at the mattress and it had a great pillow top, it was soft but supportive and really quite comfortable, so we bought it. I thought we had the favor of God because it was actually nicer than the first one I had ordered and since it was a discontinued model, it was $400 cheaper.

Since we had the van now, we thought we were awesome and M could just come back without the kids and I and pick the mattress. That would have been great, except for the fact that the box spring was just 2 inches too long, and I was a stinker and refused to let him tie down the back. If there hadn't of been 2 inches of snow and 6 inches of salt on the ground, I would have let him, but I didn't want all of that grime kicked up into my trunk and on my beautiful new mattress. So he put the mattress back in the warehouse and tagged it with our hold tag before he went to schedule delivery.

They promised us the mattress set would be delivered on Monday, which was great. That gave me time to get the rooms ready before M's parents came. Right on time, the delivery guys came and shoved the mattress up the stairs. I went to look at it as they were leaving and realized that they had brought the wrong one. The mattress they delivered was not the fabulous pillow top we had bought, it was some cheap, firm, regular spring mattress. I ran down the stairs and told them they had to take it back. M got on the phone with the furniture store and asked what was going on. Why had we been given the wrong mattress when he had tagged the mattress we had ordered himself. The tag on the mattress that was delivered to us was the same tag that M had placed on the one we had really bought, so someone stupid had switched them at some point.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir, I don't know what happened. Send the other mattress back with the delivery guys and we will get the one you ordered to you soon. The soonest delivery slot we have is 4 days from now". Yeah, ok, NO. That is not going to work for me, thanks though. At that point I thought M was being way too nice, so I made him give me the phone-- it is the control freak in me, I can't help it. 4 days from now was not acceptable, especially when we paid $70 for delivery and they were the ones who had messed up. So I told the dude to fix the problem, and to fix it today, or I wanted the delivery charge refunded. After 32 minutes of going back and forth with this guy on the phone, no joke, 32 minutes, he finally came back and said, "The manager won't refund your delivery fee, but we will get the mattress to you tomorrow." to which I responded something similar to, "You had better tell your manager that if that mattress isn't here today, by 6 o'clock, I will be down there tomorrow, at least twice, to tell the manager just how crappy her store is and how simply unacceptable this is and I will raise the biggest fuss any of you have ever seen. I don't think you want me to do that."

Low and behold, 2 hours later there was a knock at the door and there was my mattress. The guys who delivered it were actually the stock room employees, not regular delivery people, who had to make a special trip out. When they got here they gave the requisite "I don't know what happened" speech. Save it. I don't want to hear it. I don't care anymore, just get out of my house, you smell like smoke.

So they left and M went to work on taking our old mattress up to the third floor room. One would think, since we got the mattress set up to the second floor without problem, that it wouldn't be a problem to get the mattress set up to the third floor because the 2 flights of stairs are identical. Apparently, the flights of stairs aren't identical. The first floor stairs have about an inch of extra room somewhere that allows for the ridged box spring to pass through. The second flight of stairs would not allow the box spring to go up. There was NO way it was getting up there. So after all of the irritation and stress of getting the stupid new mattress here in the first place, it looked like we weren't even going to be able to get the old one up to the guest room.

I was thinking we were just going to have to put the old mattress on the floor and our company was going to have to sleep like a broke college kid until we could order a platform bed or something. But my husband, being the ingenious man that he is, decided he could fix the problem with a couple of tools. As long as there were no holes in the wall in the end, I really didn't care what he did, but I didn't want to watch.

I left, went to the grocery store, and when I came back, he was beaming with pride and told me to go upstairs. And this is what I saw:




Not only had he removed a good portion of the stairs, he had also taken off the banisters and then somehow managed to push the box spring up the stairs (or what was left of them) while maneuvering himself over the gapping hole that opened all the way to the first floor of the house. All I could think of was that one wrong step that would have sent him falling a story and a half... Ironically, that morning I had read a post in my friend A's blog about a call she got (she's an EMT) to help a guy who had fallen through his attic and tumbled down a flight of stairs, onto his first floor. Yeah... thank goodness we have gates on the stairs to keep the kids from climbing on them. These stairs scare me to death anyway, but this, well, just took the cake.

I couldn't complain, the old mattress set was on the third floor, our new glorious mattress was on our bed and oh so wonderful. That night we both slept very well, and woke up feeling like people in the mid to late 20s should feel. It was worth every second of irritation and all of that plaster that came off the ceiling and the walls as M was moving the box spring up. I guess I will just have to buy a big tub of putty before we leave... and yes, we do realize that we have to get the mattress down some how when it is time to move. We both agree that is what the professional movers are for.

the obvious

Yesterday I went to have my teeth cleaned. Some may be surprised I will willingly go back into the dentist chair after the fiasco that was the root canal, but cleanings don't bother me. And they are free so I say, why not? When I pulled into the parking lot, this big SUV cut me off and started racing me for a parking spot. Funny thing was there were 3 spots left, all next to each other. I guess she wanted to ensure that she didn't have to walk 3 extra steps to the office. It can be so excruciating to walk that much further. I blew it off, whatever. There was a good song on the radio so I was rocking out and didn't really care.

I parked my car and got out, but the SUV lady was still in her car, talking to herself. Since CA passed this hands free law, everyone is constantly talking to themselves, or at least looks like they are talking to themselves but really they are talking into their bluetooths. My problem is that I'm so narcissistic that I think everyone is talking to me so I'm always getting defensive when someone comes up behind me in the grocery store or parking lot and starts talking to me for no reason. Then it takes me about 30 seconds to realize that they aren't talking to me and then I get all offended. It's really become a big issue and I'm trying hard to work through it.

Anyway, I walked into the dentist office behind 2 other people and stood by the door as they signed in at the counter. I'm all for that HIPPA crap so I give some respect by standing as far away as possible. While I was waiting, the SUV lady finally walked in and stood next to me. Then she proceeded to walk to the counter and sign in after the 2 in front of me were done. Now, if you know me, you know that I don't take this kind of thing lightly, especially these days. My time is precious and I was waiting patiently for my turn and this chick cut? Oh heck no! So I started half way laughing with the undertone of "what the heck you stupid bimbo?!" and waited my turn AGAIN as she singed in.

When I finally got up to the counter the receptionist asked me how I was doing and I (I guess a little loudly) told her that I was apparently invisible because everyone just seems to cut me off for no good reason. She kind of laughed and said "Yeah, I saw that...", but you know she was thinking, "Please, please don't make me jump over this counter to keep you from kicking her in the face!" The woman who cut in front of me piped up from her chair and said "I didn't see you standing there." Really? REALLY?! I don't know what your super power is lady, but you wanna know what mine is? I can see right through BS. No, I am so serious! It's true. I know it can be hard to believe, and many don't believe it's possible, but I really can see right through bull crap.

I am 5 foot 10 in flats and that day I was about 6 foot 2 because my hair was piled on top of my head in some kind of attempt at the "I just rolled out of bed" look even though it took me about 30 minutes and 17 tries to get it just right. I was carrying a giraffe print bag that could fit a small child in it. I was wearing bright blue! I was standing about 2 feet from the entry way, directly in front of the door, when she walked in. There's no way she could have missed me. But, since she missed seeing me in the parking lot and as a result cut me off, and missed seeing me in the line to sing in and as a result cut in front of me, I politely suggested that she go see an optometrist instead of the dentist because clearly, her eyes were in more need of care than her teeth.

Shockingly, or not, I didn't have to wait to get into the room to have my teeth cleaned. They called me back less than 5 seconds after I sat down to wait. After I sat down, the hygienist, who looked like he was about 3 years younger than me, told me he needed to take my blood pressure because, "per standard procedure now, we won't work on you if your blood pressure is too high." Um, who the heck determines what is "too high" and are you even qualified to take my blood pressure? Do you even know how to do it, correctly? I pretty much told him that he could kiss it and that he was going to clean my teeth whether my blood pressure was 100/50 or 200/150. I didn't arrange for childcare drag my lazy butt all the way into town only to be told they wouldn't work on me because my blood pressure was too high. That is discrimination.

He thought I was kidding. I don't think anyone had informed him of the scene I had just made 3 minutes prior. But, he made a good choice and worked on my teeth, making them nice and shiny, and even gave me the chocolate flavored tooth polish instead of the mint one so I didn't throw up all over him. Then he told me that "just for fun" we should take my blood pressure. BS, again. I knew he would get busted if he didn't take it at least once and chart it and since he was new, and I didn't feel like getting anyone fired, I obliged. 158/110. My high end of normal is 110/70. He was like, "oh, most people have higher blood pressure when they go to the dentist". Yeah, not me. Not this time at least. After what happen last time, this was nothing and certainly not something to get worked up about.

I'm stressed. Sooooooooooo so so stressed out. Could this be why I feel like my heart is beating in my forehead most of the time and why I can see my pulse pumping when I look at my wrist? Perhaps. Maybe I should consult a physician? Probably. Am I going to? Not a chance. I don't have time. There's too much to do and not enough time to do it. I have got to prioritize and get organized and pull myself together. This is out of control.

excuse me while i freak the heck out

I know I promised you guys a post all about our trip but that's not going to happen tonight because I'm too exhausted to deal with resizing and uploading pictures. It's been one of those days. Well, two days actually. Thing are just crazy and only getting more ridiculous by the second. I guess it's God's way of bringing me back to reality after our whirlwind 18 day "vacation", and boy is he doing a good job of bringing me back.

I mean, really, there's no bigger reality check than having your bank card denied at the Dollar Store. The DOLLAR STORE, people! For freaking real. My card was denied yesterday. It's not like I was shopping at Nordstroms and buying a $400 dress. No, I was buying napkins and paper plates. Now that is borderline white trash right there. Heck, I'll own it. It is white trash. In fact, I think that's the most white trash thing that has ever happened to me, and I've had a lot of WT moments.

It wouldn't have been so bad if my lack of funds didn't interrupt the cigarette break of the manager of the store, and there wasn't a line of 6 people behind me... because apparently the Dollar Store can't afford to pay more than 2 people to work at any given time. The girl who was checking me out was really nice and blamed the computer for my card not working. After the third time swiping it through, she called the manager who bumbled over all angry and stuff, blowing smoke as she came (literally) and then loudly and quickly announced that it wasn't working because my card was denied, not because the computer was jacked up. And I was like, "I'm sorry, come again?" And she sighed, stomped her foot and put her hand on her hip and was all, "Hun, it means your card has no money on it." Oh HECK no, lady. First of all, no one gets to call me "Hun" and second, why do you have to say it so loudly and mean like? I half expected sirens to go off and bars to slam down on the windows because we needed even more attention drawn to the fact that I was apparently broke. So then I had to humble myself and do the embarrassing "try this card" thing, praying the whole time that it wouldn't work either so I could prove it was the computer that was messed up and not because I don't know how to balance my checkbook. But the second card worked, dang it, and I had to do the walk of shame out of there. (To my credit, my card was denied because of a bank transfer error so it really wasn't my fault, but still...)

And if that wasn't white trash enough, now I'm trying to kill a mouse that has decided to take up residence in my room. I swear it was not there yesterday and it better not have been there last night although I can't be sure. Ugh! The thought of it crawling around all night while we were sleeping makes me want to vomit. CB and I are sleeping in another room tonight for sure. It is SO disgusting. All of the germs and disease and general nastiness... gross Gross GROSS! I had to totally dismantle my room so I could clean every square inch, including the closet which is piled high with stuff from 1992, I'm sure, because there is no way I will ever be able to sleep in there again unless it's completely sanitized. But as I was in the process of cleaning, my dad told me to stop so the mouse would feel more comfortable and go back to it's secret place and happen upon a trap along the way. Yes, because that is what we want. A mouse to feel comfortable. So now there is junk everywhere and I'm freaking out about every little noise I hear because I know it's trying to eat my Uggs and my favorite dress. I just know it.

I know mice are a byproduct of country living, no matter how clean you are, but that is one thing I can't get used to. We need to stop feeding Blanca the black cat so she will actually do her job and get to them before I have to. Why couldn't it have come last week when my husband was still here? He could have done his Army thing and camped out all stealth like and caught the it with his bare hands or whatever it is he does to capture mice. I don't know what he does, actually. I don't pay attention because dealing with varmint is his domain, not mine. I just want to know when it's dead and gone. I swear, if the thing doesn't take the peanut butter bait and is not in the trap by the morning, I'm taking a blowtorch to the walls... you think I'm kidding?

playahs

Today I packed the beasts up and headed to town to run some errands. Probably not the best of ideas considering that one has a fever that won't quit and the other is cutting six teeth right now, but I put on my big girl panties and went anyway. The monsters did surprisingly well, although it probably helped that I bought them whatever they pointed at. Doesn't everyone need a box of Diego band aids and box of Chicken in a Basket crackers that will never be eaten?

We made it through the checkout line with ease, as W was very excited to "pay for it" his band aids so he could finally! open them. As we trekked to the car, the boxes of diapers spilled out from the bottom of the cart because I went down the little slope in front of the store too fast, and as I was picking them up this huge, lifted, loud, 2007 Dodge blazed past us. Jerks, for real. They turned down the row I was parked in, second from the middle of nowhere, and just stopped in the middle of the aisle.

Then this woman got out and the best way to describe her was, well, "woof". She was not a pretty woman at all. It wasn't even her appearance that was unattractive. You could just tell that she was an ugly person on the inside. She lumbered over to the bed of the truck, while yelling some ridiculous obscenities at the driver and proceeded to pull a stroller out. Me, being the stroller nerd I am, quickly noted that it was a Graco Laura Ashley travel system from 2007. That set will run you about $280, so it's not cheap. She was having trouble with the stroller so the driver got out, opened it for her, kissed her goodbye and told her he would be back in an hour. I wasn't paying too much attention to them after that, but I did think it was really weird that he was dropping her off in the middle of the aisle that was in the middle of nowhere and not at the front of the store like most normal people do but I brushed it off figuring she probably wanted (needed) the exercise. Good for her.

A couple of minutes later I had finished loading our junk into the trunk and I heard the woman approaching me. If you know me, you know parking lots and me don't mix. Most of my public disturbance offenses have occured in them. If I'm in a parking lot, it means I'm on my way to go somewhere or want to go somewhere. I don't have time to waste and I don't want to stay and chat with anyone, unless you are bleeding, being mugged, or stung by a bee. As soon as I heard, "Could I have a moment of your time, please?" I made my judgment, and it wasn't a good one. So I turned and glared at her, as if to say "WHAT THE HECK DO YOU WANT?!" and in the most fake, wannabe, half British half Russian with a touch of a Southern drawl accent that she didn't have 3 minutes earlier when she was screaming at the dude in the truck, she says:

"God bless you good woman. My husband has recently left me and he didn't leave me any money. I was just on my way over here to drop off an application for employment and I was wondering if you could give me some money so I could buy my baby formula. I don't have enough to last through the rest of the week. Could you please help us?"

Um, wait, aren't you the chick who just got out of that big @$$, less than 1 year old Dodge? The one that was driven by the dude who got out and gave you a kiss goodbye? Are you seriously pushing a midsize Graco travel system right now? One that could get you at least $100 on Craigslist? Is there even a baby in that carseat? I can't tell because there's a huge fleece blanket covering it, even though it's EIGHTY DEGREES out today! Don't play me, seriously. I'm not stupid.

I just looked at her and had to bite my lip to keep from screaming. I couldn't believe she was even trying this with me. Of course I wasn't going to give her money, but I told her I had something for her, and this, people, is why I'm a horrible person.

You see, in my car I happened to have a bunch of breastfeeding pamphlets from Lansinoh and a few baby wearing handouts. Plus I happened to have some brochures on how to use your carseat correctly. And I gave them to her because the way I see it is if you are really hard up for cash then breastfeeding and baby wearing is one way to cut back on expenses. At least you could sell the stroller for cash, right?

When I handed her the propeganda, the carseat brochure was on top and she asked why she would need that because she didn't have a car. And I was like, really? That wasn't you getting out of that truck that was parked here a few seconds ago? And her cover was blown. And I laughed. And then I booked it out of there because who knows if she was really smuggling a very large gun or knife under that blanket. But I couldn't get out before Karma gave me a warning, as I accidentally kicked the tire of the car parked next to me and broke my big toenail down to the skin, ruining my perfect pedicure.

I'll take the karma, though. It was worth it. There are some things that just don't fly with me and dishonesty is one of them. My husband works his butt off to make an honest living and for someone to try to freaking free load off of us is insulting. I have no problem with people who legitimately need financial assistance and will gladly direct them to a place where they can get help, but do NOT try to pass yourself off as being in need when you clearly are not and are clearly too lazy to go out and make your money in a morally right and honest way. It's just not right.

It will catch up with her though, I'm sure of it. As I was waiting for a car to pull out so I could leave, she approached a couple who had walked by us earlier and did the same exact speech, with a slightly different accent this time. They looked at her and said, "Please do yourself a favor and get a real job. We heard the conversation you had with that woman and we aren't buying your story either". Thank goodness.

posers

This weekend I flew to another funeral for another one of M's friends that was killed a couple of weeks ago. It was a really beautiful service and I am so glad I was able to attend to honor his life and bravery. He was an amazing man and he will be greatly missed. It was a short trip, just one day. I flew there at 9 am and got a return flight at 5 pm.

Flying is not one of my favorite things to do, but I seem to do it a lot. I normally have panic attacks and have to distract myself with music or reading and I do a lot of breathing exercises. One thing I have found that always works to distract me is to people watch. I LOVE to people watch. Ask anyone. Give me a seat on a bench in a busy mall or a seat in a busy area of an airport and I will be happy for hours. People are weird and I love to watch their weirdness.

The city that I was flying in and out of was once a popular tourist destination, but has since been replaced by brighter lights and bigger hotels in another city nearby so it's not exactly where the well off go to party. Lets just say there were fanny packs and tapered pants a plenty and that combined with a lot of cheap beer made for prime people watching. Fanny packs aside, there was one woman in particular that really stood out to me. She thought she was aaaaaaaaaaalllll that. And a bag of chips.

This woman was probably in her late 40's and looked like she got in a fight with a BeDazzler and lost. There were more rhinestones and studs on that woman than I have ever seen on one person, even two people, for that matter. She had 4 huge gold rings on both hands, 4 big gold bracelets and a watch on her left arm, her black pants were studded down the sides, she had a studded belt on, her shirt had rhinestones along the collar and sleeve cuffs and even her shoes had stones on them. But lets talk about her glasses because they were the most bedazzling of all. Think: Sylvia Weinstock and add a disco ball. The sides of these HUGE black glasses were completely covered in silver rhinestones. Ah.Maz.Ing.

I first noticed her because I heard her cackle (yes, cackle, not laugh) as she was talking to someone on her phone. I'm just lucky she wasn't sitting under a bright light when I saw her because my eyes needed time to adjust and I surely would have been blinded by all of her embellishments if I had looked straight at her. Her phone in itself would have been enough to blind me, as it too was BeDazzled with bright red rhinestones.

She was talking to one of her friends, who was apparently named "Hun", about how her driver had made her walk 1/2 a block through the rain that morning because he was too stupid to drive through the flooded street to pick her up at her door and how she hoped he wasn't as much of an idiot when he picked her up after she landed. She kept saying "my driver" over and over and over, like she has a personal chauffeur or something. Then she started talking about how she needed to go to the City to do some shopping at the kind of stores most people never go into because they wouldn't even be able to purchase a sock there. She was talking so loud that we could all hear what she was saying and I still haven't figured out if she was doing on purpose or not, to make everyone think that she was totally rich.

There was this huge disconnect though because she couldn't have been that rich. She was flying on Southwest for goodness sake! If I was loaded, that would be the last airline I would be flying on. Even better though was when we landed at our destination, and I was walking to my car, she was in front of me and I saw her "driver" and car. It was one of those airport shuttle vans that costs like $15 each way. Not exactly the Lincoln I was expecting her to get into.

This just reminds me of the time I went to IKEA and was walking next to a couple who brought their pug in on a red velvet pillow. I always wondered why they were shopping at IKEA. That is not where the wealthy tend to shop, and I sure don't know of any middle class American that carries their dog on a red velvet pillow. Maybe that is common though and I don't get out enough to see it?

Maybe these people were really rich and they got rich from saving money by shopping at box stores for their furniture and flying on the crappiest airline known to man. But I really doubt that. I'm going to wage my bets on the fact that they are posers. I won't judge though. Whatever you gotta do to get your kicks is fine by me. Heck, it provides me with tons of entertainment so have at it!

moron

So a few days ago I was Christmas shopping (blah) and I encountered a first rate moron. This chick was a sales person at one of those stores that encourages their employees to accost you as soon as you walk in the door and continue to follow you around asking you if you need anything? are you finding everything ok? can I help you find something? are you sure you don't need anything? are you shopping for yourself? do you need ideas for a gift for someone? are you sure I can't find something for you? and on and on and on until you either politely tell them to back the heck off or deck them... whatever comes first. Dude, I know your job sucks and you have to make your sales but if you were less annoying, I'd be more likely to buy something.

So she's following me around and I was holding the baby and the baby was sucking on my key chain which says the field my husband works in all over it. Because she was genuinely interested, scratch that, because she wanted to kiss my butt so I bought something from her, she asked me about the key chain and I told her my husband was in the Army. And she says something like Oh, I had no idea that there was an Army base around here and I was like, well, there isn't an Army POST around here and we don't even live here. And she was like, what are you doing here and I was all, I'm here because my husband is deployed right now and I don't want to spend the friggin holidays alone.

So she gets this sad look on her face but not because she feels sad for me, more because I have pulled the trump card and she knows that she can't top that one and she's totally confused about what to say next. So she goes, Oh! I TOTALLY know how you feel and I was like, really? Your husband served in the war? And she was all, well, no. This one time, like 2 years ago, he went on a 3 day camping trip with his buddies and it was HORRIBLE for me. I couldn't stand being away from him for those three days and I cried the whole time.

Riiiiiiiiiiight. That is TOTALLY the same as my husband being in danger every second of every day and only getting to talk to him once a week. Three days is just like being gone for FIFTEEN MONTHS and having your husband miss 2 of your son's 3 birthdays, your daughter's first Christmas, her first birthday and all of her "firsts" milestones. In those three days, did you have to make life changing decisions that will determine the course of the rest of your life over email? Did you have to explain to your son that daddy can't hold him through the phone? Did you have to deal people being stupid and telling you they know exactly what you are going through, even if they CLEARLY do not have any kind of clue what you are going trough? I didn't think so, so sit down and SHUT UP!

Unless your husband, the father of your children, the love of your life and your best friend has put on that uniform and said goodbye to his 2 screaming children and crying wife and watched them drive away knowing full well he might not ever see them again and knowing that if he did get to see them again, it wouldn't be for at least 8 months, you cannot say you understand how I feel. Unless your heart jumps every time there is an unexpected knock at the door or you get that sinking feeling every time you see a strange car driving down the road towards your house or you freak out when you see a strange number on the caller ID because any one of these things could be delivering the worst news possible, you couldn't possibly know what I'm going through or feeling.

And, by the way, you thinking you know JUST what I am going through is incredibly insulting to the sacrifice we are making for YOU and makes YOU look like the world's biggest moron so do yourself a favor and keep quiet. MORON!

pimp my ride, much?

Today I had to take CB to get x-rays done on her hips. Since she isn't mobile and often looks like a frog, they want to be sure her hip joints are in the sockets. Anyway, when we were walking out of the hospital, this car was behind me and the music was really loud. I hate that. I find it totally disrespectful and REALLY annoying.

I don't want to hear about how you smack your hos or how you kill your bros. I don't want to hear about your milkshake or how you spend your g's. I really don't like the sound of an electric guitar and I don't like my children being exposed to death metal. I don't want my inner ear bones to rattle to the point that my vision blurs and I do like hearing clearly out of both ears.

I don't care about free speech, blah blah blah. This has nothing to do with free speech. It's my right not to have to listen to things that I find to be garbage. It's your right to listen to things that I find to be garbage in the comfort of your own home or car in a manner that doesn't pollute the earth with more useless and unnecessary noise. Blast your ears out if you want to, just don't make me take part.

So when this particular car was behind me, blasting this obscene music as loud as possible, in a hospital parking lot no less, I naturally turned to give the driver a death glare, and quite possibly the bird if I felt so inclined, and it was then that I became confused. The windows of the truck were all rolled up. So how on earth could the music be coming out so clear? External speakers. WHAT THE HECK?! Is that really necessary? Is this what the world is coming to? This is just out of control.

well, that was fun

And by fun, I mean completely pointless. Today I had to take CB to the allergist. I didn't really want to go in the first place because I already knew exactly what was going to happen, and I knew it was going to be a waste of time. But we made the 45 minute trip anyway. When we got in the office, we went through the requisite badgering from the receptionist about how my referral wasn't complete and how my insurance wasn't going to cover any testing and --sigh-- she was going to have to actually get on the phone and talk to an insurance representative to get this figured out. I offered to call myself but --sigh-- she said she would do it. It was her job, after all. Blah blah blah. Kiss mine.

Then we got called back into the room and the nurse was walking so fast in front of us that I lost sight of her and didn't know where to go. After peeking into at least 12 doors, I finally found her and she had the nerve to ask me what took me so long. Well, I don't know, perhaps my choice of shoes (3 inch wedges) and the fact that I was carrying a 20 pound diaper bag and a 14 pound baby had something to do with it? Sorry I couldn't keep up with your caffeine and diet pill filled body.

After the normal, "sit here and the doctor will be in shortly" speech, I got to wait. And wait. And wait. All while the doctor was right outside my door talking to his colleague about the cocktail party he was going to attend tonight and how he was only going to have one glass of wine and a few appetizers. And then the colleague asked if the doctor was going to bring his wife... and the doctor quickly replied, "no, she thinks I'm working late". So he either hates her or he's doing the hipity dipity with someone on the side. Perhaps the fen-phen addicted nurse?

Finally he comes in and sits down. He was clearly in a hurry because while I was answering every question he asked, he would interrupt me and ask another question that didn't even have to do with what I was saying. After getting to month 5 of CB's history, he completely cut me off. I knew we were boring, but I didn't realize just how uninteresting we really were. As he was walking out of the room, I quickly spat out the history from month 5 to month 8, which I thought he should know because they were the most crucial. But apparently, it doesn't matter that she can't keep down any solid foods and that if I eat anything with any kind of dairy, she screams and cries for 3 straight days because, "that sounds like a GI problem".

After he left, Miss Fen-phen USA came back in the room with a tray of 40 pins and magic potions to stick in my daughter's back. Apparently, the receptionist found the energy to get up and call the insurance company to be sure the testing was approved. After poking CB in the back 40 times, the nurse left the room, as CB was hysterical, and said "be sure you keep her on her stomach for the next 20 minutes and don't touch her back". Um, that's information that would have been useful before you turned her into a dart board. Thanks, though.

So for 15 minutes, I tried to keep my irate child on her stomach while trying to console her without touching her back. Let me explain something: my daughter HATES to be on her stomach. She flat our refuses it. This is the reason why she doesn't roll and why she doesn't even attempt to crawl. She finally got so tired from screaming so hard that she fell asleep. It broke my heart to see her so upset and I seriously regretted even going.

When the nurse came back in to check her back for any reactions, which there weren't any, which I knew there wouldn't be, she wiped her back down with alcohol. Wouldn't you think that putting rubbing alcohol into an open wound would hurt? Yeah, it did. And the screaming began again.

Then the doctor came back in to tell me the obvious, which was that she doesn't have any of the type of allergies that can be diagnosed with tests, but she might have allergies that can't be diagnosed with testing. So I either needed to put her on the $2.10 per every 5 ounce bottle of formula or keep up with the elimination diet. He didn't seem very optimistic about me continuing on the elimination diet because it apparently makes my life too difficult. I guess no one believes me that it doesn't bother me too much now because I'm used to it and the results are pretty awesome. Baby is less fussy and actually sleeping, I haven't had a headache or a stomach ache in almost a month and I'm well on my way to looking like a Justin Timberlake era Britney Spears. Although, admittedly, there are times that I would just like a bite of chocolate or something with red dye #2 in it. Those are the times that I nibble on my rice crackers and imagine they are something delectable.

Anyway, we left with no more information than we came with and 40 pen marks and pin pricks on the baby's back. It was a pretty pointless day that will cost the insurance more than it should. I knew it was going to happen this way but went because I feel like we need to cover all our bases, just to be sure. I guess I will just have to take my traveling circus elsewhere to get some answers.

pet peeve #1

If there is one thing I cannot stand above everything else, it is disrespectful and "entitled" teenagers who think they are the Shiz-Nit. Ask my sister and my cousins, they will tell you this is very true, as they often hear me complain about their idiot peers and annoying friends. I've earned quite a reputation among their friends as being a witch (and worse), which I think is hilarious.

It's for good reason that I've earned this reputation. I've been known to stand up and shush bratty kids who talk loudly in the movie theater and I've been known to tell others when they are being inappropriate. My favorite, though, was the time I was at Starbucks on a fall night and heard a few 14 year old hoochie mamas, who wearing nothing but tube tops and size 7 mini skirts that they had squeezed their size 11 booties into, complain that they were cold. So I politely told them that if they went home and put some clothes on, that they wouldn't be cold anymore. That was met with a round of "Um, who does she think she is?" and "Aint nothing but a hate-ah".

I just don't get this teenage culture, which is pretty lame because I was just there 6 years ago. But I was never like that. I was a big fat dork and still am. Here's the thing, it doesn't matter what color you paint your Dodge Neon, or how many spoilers you put on it, or if you put Lamborghini doors on it, or what kind of glass shattering/ ear deafening system you put into it. It's ALWAYS going to be a Dodge Neon. You can drive it as fast as you want, but it's never going to be awesome. You thinking you are awesome in it makes you look that much more stupid. I will tell you as much, too. And don't even get me started on that whole emo thing... My poor sister and cousin have tried to explain it to me, at length, and I still don't get it. That's ok, though. Some things are better left to be a mystery to me. Less to stress about, right?

Today we were at the commissary getting groceries and there was a group of teenagers hanging out and running through the aisles. Because you are cool if you hang out at the commissary, in your too tight jeans and Converse with your spiked and studded belt and chains hanging from your pockets. Oh how I wish I was you. As we were walking the aisles, the brats started being stupid and started cussing really loudly. One of them yelled "Shut the F up" (but said the real word) and guess what flew out of my son's mouth? Yeah, that bird don't fly with me.

I promptly turned my cart around, as my son was swearing up a storm and laughing because he thought it was hilarious, and walked over to these mutants. They, of course, blew me off, so I cornered them and proceeded to give them a fun little lecture. The eye rolling was out of control on their part so I broke it down to them: either they apologize to each and every one of the people in ear shot for their vulgar and rude behavior, or I call the military police and file a complaint for disorderly conduct. But someone else must have complained about them because the store manager was soon in our little corner and told them all to leave, which totally ruined my fun.

They left, but not without saying a few more choice words, which my son tried to repeat but I started stuffing his mouth with pretzels and gave him a box of pills to play with so he lost interest in his new vocabulary, thankfully. As I was leaving the store, though, the mutants were hanging out outside. Apparently there is NO other place to hang out here. They didn't dare say a word to me, especially because there was an MP about 50 feet away. But you can bet that I made sure they didn't see which car was mine. One of these days, I'm going to wake up to my house being egged or find that my car has been keyed. I just know it.

sarcasm 101

There are a lot of questions I'm asked on a regular basis that are driving me nuts. I know for the most part people are just trying to make conversation, but when you are asked the same thing half a million times, it gets old really quick. People's intentions are often good, as they are showing an interest in our life, but there are some people who just ask things to get the goods to use in later conversations with others, because their own lives are so painfully boring that they can't speak about anything else. If you've asked me any of these questions or said any of these statements, don't take it personally that I'm slightly annoyed. It's not you, it's my short fuse. Normally, I will give a nice and polite response, but the following is what I'm often thinking.

Q: W is so small! I can't believe he's almost 2. He looks like he's only 15 or 16 months. Is there something wrong with him?
A: Nothing is wrong with him, I just refuse to feed him. Why waste the money? Plus this way, I never have to buy clothes for him because he never grows out of them. And the next time you see a 15 month old clearing the ground when he jumps and telling you when he has to go "poo-poo", call me.

Q: Wow, he's so bald! Do you shave his head?
A: Yeah, every morning. Because I have that kind of time.

Q: She STILL isn't sleeping through the night? Why?
A: Because I poke her in the ribs until she wakes up. I like feeling deliriously tired all the time. It gives the same feeling as being drunk, but being tired doesn't give you a hangover and it's free!

Q: You're STILL breastfeeding CB? When are you going to stop?
A: When she goes to college. Maybe. And I'm so glad you are focusing your attention on me doing something NATURAL and healthy for both of us, when there are parents out there beating their kids. Shouldn't you be focusing your attention on them? And, by the way, you can use the word "still" when she's been breastfeeding for 3+ years. She's hardly six months old, people!

Q: She sleeps in your bed?? You're never going to be able to break that habit. When are you going to stop?
A: See previous response.

Q: Oh good, you have a boy and a girl now. So you're done having kids, right?
A. Oh yeah, absolutely. I have the prize family and because I have one of each gender and my life is totally complete. Don't imply that we shouldn't want more kids because we have one of each. When I'm done having babies, I'll let you know.

Q: How many do you want, then?
A: A basketball team. Or enough to make up a successful singing group so I can exploit them and take all their money. Don't worry people, we won't be single handedly overpopulating the earth.

Q: How are you surviving with your husband being gone?
A: With lots of pills, a recreational drug or two and copious amounts of alcohol.

Q: Do you miss him?
A: Not at all. It's so much fun caring for the kids and the house all alone in a foreign country, like one big adventure. It's great not having him around to get in the way when the babies do something new and I get them all to myself. Plus, now I have a lot less laundry to do.

Q: Are you ever going to go back to work?
A: What the heck do you think I do all day???

someone drank some haterade

It looks like I've hit the big time, people. I'm a real blogger now! I got my first piece of hate mail, anonymously, of course. In a nut shell, it read,
"Nobody thinks you are funny."
Can you see me liking my wounds? Ouch. Way to hit below the belt.(All of that being said with so much sarcasm, it makes Chandler from Friends sound like a serious person.) That's ok, you don't have to think I'm funny. I'm not trying to be funny. I just write whatever pops into my little brain. It's not like I'm sitting here at my computer for hours on end trying to come up with something hilarious to say. I have much better things to do like keeping my daughter from eating paper and my son from riding the vacuum like a skateboard. So if you don't think I'm funny and/ or like what I write, that can only be because:

1. You are JUST like me and what I say and how I say it hits way too close to home for you to think I'm funny.

or

2. You have no sense of humor and are a miserable person. Too miserable to find humor in any situation and therefore, you feel the need to make everyone else around you miserable too.

I guess there could be a 3rd reason: that I'm really not funny at all. But I crack myself up all the time so that couldn't be the reason.

PS. If you don't think I'm funny, what the H are you doing wasting your time by reading my blog? Go do something that makes you happy, like stealing candy from small children or egging a house.

and i thought i had problems...

Today we went to the commissary and we ended up wandering through the aisles behind a dad who pushing his twin girls in a stroller while his oldest daughter was walking next to them. They were buying food with another guy, who I'm assuming was the dad's friend.

At one point, they were picking out taco sauce and the oldest daughter asked the friend why he was staying at their house and the friend replied, "Because my wife's a B**** and won't let me come home".

Well, dude, after hearing you talk to a 7 year old like that, I can't imagine why on earth your wife won't let you into the house. You're a winner, that's for sure.

bullied by a six year old

This morning we had to go to the commissary. My husband came home last night after 2 weeks of training and there isn't nearly enough food in the house to sustain him for even 5 minutes. I hate going to the commissary for so many reasons. 1) everyone there is cranky, 2) everyone there is crazy/ or mean, 3) they are always out of everything I need (still no diapers for CB), 4) it's hard to shop with a baby strapped to your chest and one in the cart, kicking you in the thighs as you walk and 5) my bill is always over $200, for just one week.

When we got there, I was struggling to pull a cart from the entrance and this woman and her six year old breezed past me. We began to walk down the first aisle past this mom and I heard her six year old say "Wow! That lady has TWO babies. That is just crazy." Like she's never seen someone with 2 kids before? We continued to walk and the girl saw one of her friends and they proceeded to chat in the middle of the aisle. The friend had on a little princess crown and was carrying a princess wand. The six year old emphatically informed this poor girl that she looked "stupid". The friend ran off crying to her mother. While these 2 girls had been talking, the six year old's mother walked off and was nowhere in sight. So the little monster started to follow me.

At first, W was doing his normal "I'm not too sure of you so I'm going to peek around my mom to see what you are doing because I don't want you to hurt me" thing. The monster was trying to get W to laugh and it wasn't working. So she informed me that my baby was "stupid". Really? Ok. I asked her where her mother went and said she should go find her. The monster said "No. She can find me". Then she told me that my shoes didn't match my outfit. I was wearing white flip flops, jeans and a blue tank top. Looks good to me! Then she kept pestering W. W was getting annoyed by her and started say "Shoo fly" every time she would come near. (W HATES flies so I taught him to say shoo fly when they are bothering him). Finally she got bored with terrorizing my stupid kid and ran off to find her mom.

But as I turned down the next aisle, there she was. There was no getting away from this kid. I could have turned down another aisle instead, but that would have ruined the Fung Shui of my cart and then my entire day would have turned to crap. So I continued on, praying her mother would not let her wander off. Yeah right.

The monster started to follow us again and this time, she started to pull on CB's legs. CB was sleeping in the Baby Bjorn so I was getting really upset. I told the monster to stop and asked her again to go to her mother (who had been long gone by this time). The monster told me no, again, and continued to follow us. She started to pull at W's legs and he kept saying "no more, no more!" and then she started to take off his shoe. W knows that if you take off his shoes, he's not going to get to go outside anymore and that causes one large fit. So W started screaming at her, which woke CB, which pissed me off like you wouldn't believe. I knelt down to the monster and told her "You need to go find your mother RIGHT NOW and leave us alone", to which she responded, with a stomp of the foot, a hair toss and one hand on the hip, "I don't want to and you can't make me." Oh really? Freaking watch me, Thumbelina.

I started to tear through the store to find this monster's mom. I was practically running over innocent children and elderly people. I finally found the mom in the check out aisle! Was she just going to leave the kid there? I hate to say it, but I would consider leaving her, too... Anyway, I went to the mom and told her that her daughter was bothering my kids and that she had been disrespectful (I'm SUCH a tattle tale!). Just then, the monster emerged and when she saw me talking to her mom, she started to "cry" and said "Mommy, that lady is being mean to me!" The mom got really mad at me and said, "My daughter would never disrespect anyone! How dare you make her cry!" (She was fake crying... No tears. Little brat.)

So the mom and the monster left the store but not before the mom bought the monster candy because she was so "upset". And, not before the monster turned around and stuck her tongue out at me and called me a "stupid lady". It took everything in me to keep from yelling out to her that Santa isn't real.