Don't ever say this phrase out loud. This is heard as a challenge by Fate, the Fae, God, Yahweh, the Little People or whomever you chose to fear teaching you a lesson.
This week has been an expensive week and I firmly believe it's because I stupidly announced that I needed to save as much as I could for this upcoming trip to Melbourne. The words were barely out of my mouth when Teddy said, "Mom, my feet hurt"
Damn growth spurts. Sigh. Went I to the Athlete's Foot and paid $110 for sneakers. I pay this much because my son nicknamed "Destroyer of Shoes" will rip and tear up shoes just by walking to school in them. By walking I of course mean jump on mate's back, kick out his knees and drive him to the ground and kick the rugby ball around until someone somewhere bless. If I don't spend the $110 and go with the $30 sneakers I get about a months wear, instead I get 6-10 months.
The girls also needed shoes but I did get the cheaper ones as they just supposed to be quick slip on ones. Another $60 in the hole and we're out the door.
The very.damn.next.damn.day Teddy comes home from his day at the Paul Kelly Cup AFL tournament for school saying, say it with me,"Mom, my feet hurt". It seems that his boots from last year are too tight. I look at them and crap.... They are a size 4. The sneakers I just bought were size 6. Whoops. Yep, the boy needs boots.
Today I took him to Rebel Spots- the Aussie answer to Academy Sports. I head to the Youth section and we find cool blue striped ones for $59. Ok, I can deal. It takes me a few mint yes to convince Teddy that he needs to try them on. Under duress he sits down undoes the laces and rams one foot in. I say rams because he really had cram that sucker in. Uh oh.
To Teddy's horror I insist on having one of the Rebel guys help us fit the shoe. Turns out that a 6 in a boot.is not going to fit so we have to go across the isle to men's shoes.
Son of a bitch.
I swear because even though there is only a fraction of an inch difference b
in length between and 6 and 7 they are miles apart in price. See we have now left the sheltered worth of Youths and are now in the cold dark mean streets of Men's.
The first pair I saw was $219. For leather shoes with plastic studs on the bottom. Nike, not Jimmy Choo. This for a kid that has to be told to change clothes after 24 hours. A kid who has to be told NOT to put his dirty clothes back on after he showers. $219 for shoes that he will wear twice a week for 4 months and then grow out of?!!! No bloody buggering way.
After the paddles were brought out to jump start my heart I was shown less expensive shoes. We managed to squeak out with $90.
That brings my total extra spending this week to $260...for shoes. For people who could literally outgrow them in weeks.
You have all read about my problem with the dryer and no, I haven't called the repairman yet. The shoes is partly why. I'm trying to be as economical as I can about money regarding this trip. We're staying at a caravan park, I'M DRIVING FREAKING 10 HOURS WITH 4 DAMN KIDS INSTEAD OF FLYING 1 HOUR, I'm cooking most of the meals at the cabin. Really, I am doing my part to make this less expensive. But Life's little WHOOPS expenditures are throwing me for a loop. Did I mention also that Easter is next week and we stupidly went along with the tradition of getting presents and candy for the kids. What the HELL were we thinking?!!
Ugh....I swear to God I don't care. If Teddy mentions anything else about sore feet I'm just going to wrap them in duct tape and call it done.
An American family living in Australia. While we all speak English here, I wouldn't say we all speak the same language.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Friday, March 30, 2012
Decay of My Civilization
I've always felt that to be a part of a society deemed "civilized" one of the criteria was finite standards. We are civilized if we wash our hands before dinner yet uncivilized if we don't wash our hands after using the bathroom. It's a matter of drawing lines. This behaviors is acceptable, that behavior isn't. Problems arise when the definitions of civility or placement of of the barrier lines aren't agreed on by everyone. For example some people think I'm uncivilized or uncouth because I talk a lot about drinking where as I just think they are uptight knobs.
I mention this today because I crossed the threshold today into uncivilized behavior today. Crossed really isn't accurate...I sailed gracelessly over the line flipping my nose off at people as I went. Actually at the time I wasn't so much concerned about rules of society as I was about exercising problem solving skills.
My dryer died a few days ago and I haven't called the repairman yet. I haven't done that because I'm saving every dime I can for this trip to Melbourne I'm planning. I don't WANT to put $200 into the damn dryer right now. OK, I realize that no one wants to spend that on repairs but if I spend than we have to skip on doing some cool stuff and I really don't want that. So I'm not calling the guy.
That would be fine except that the washer is a little under the weather also. It's spin cycle is more of a turn around a bit and let the water drain by evaporation. The clothes come out soaked and weigh an extra 10 pounds.
Yesterday I had to was Teddy's sports day uniform cause he had already worn it 2 times this week. Rough life for these Year 6's- this week he's played sports 3 days. Ummm, any school work please? But I cracked and had to wash the clothes before their was enough DNA to create another species.
All washed and clean last night I hung them up in the Laundy room-it's been raining off and on and I was really sick yesterday so I didn't feel like going outside to hang the load on the line. It was dripping all over the place but Damn Dog was thirsty so I thought of it as a twofer.
This morning though, I woke up and the clothes were still wet. Really wet. Damn, was not expecting that. Hoo Boy...thinking fast-not that easy at 7am and tea-less I ran upstairs and turned the hair dryer on the shirt- no hope for the shorts, too wet do I left them on the rack. The hair dryer helped some but not enough. I remembered a friend telling me once the microwave ovens worked by heating the moisture causing evaporation thus removing the moisture. This sounded like sound science to me. What the Hell...
So I toddled downstairs and chucked the shirt in for a few minutes. By the way, if you are going to attempt this yourself I recommend you only setting it for 90 seconds at a time and testing the fabric. You'd be surprised how quickly cotton heats up. So there I was, nuking the shirt, as you do, when Teddy asked how long does it take for me to make porridge for gods sake. Thank you Captain Smart Ass. You can imagine the look of shock on his face when I opened the door, took out his shirt and flung it at his head. Slightly dryer but really damn hot.
My point about all if this is that not even reaching the point of microwaving clothing has made me call the repairman. I'm no longer surprised that I would do such a silly thing, please, you've been reading this blog, it's hardly worth the mention.
Where my slippery slide into chaos is that it didn't even occur to me that it was time call. It wasn't until about an hour ago (about 5 hours after the event) did it slowly drift across my mind that maybe, just maybe it's not a good idea to blow dry and microwave clothes.
So I'm just going to embrace my inner uncouthness for a while. Maybe I should keep an Excel spreadsheet of all the nutjob stuff I do so that someday I can sit back and look at the exact point where I lost my ever loving mind. Might be useful for Ted and the kids some day.
I mention this today because I crossed the threshold today into uncivilized behavior today. Crossed really isn't accurate...I sailed gracelessly over the line flipping my nose off at people as I went. Actually at the time I wasn't so much concerned about rules of society as I was about exercising problem solving skills.
My dryer died a few days ago and I haven't called the repairman yet. I haven't done that because I'm saving every dime I can for this trip to Melbourne I'm planning. I don't WANT to put $200 into the damn dryer right now. OK, I realize that no one wants to spend that on repairs but if I spend than we have to skip on doing some cool stuff and I really don't want that. So I'm not calling the guy.
That would be fine except that the washer is a little under the weather also. It's spin cycle is more of a turn around a bit and let the water drain by evaporation. The clothes come out soaked and weigh an extra 10 pounds.
Yesterday I had to was Teddy's sports day uniform cause he had already worn it 2 times this week. Rough life for these Year 6's- this week he's played sports 3 days. Ummm, any school work please? But I cracked and had to wash the clothes before their was enough DNA to create another species.
All washed and clean last night I hung them up in the Laundy room-it's been raining off and on and I was really sick yesterday so I didn't feel like going outside to hang the load on the line. It was dripping all over the place but Damn Dog was thirsty so I thought of it as a twofer.
This morning though, I woke up and the clothes were still wet. Really wet. Damn, was not expecting that. Hoo Boy...thinking fast-not that easy at 7am and tea-less I ran upstairs and turned the hair dryer on the shirt- no hope for the shorts, too wet do I left them on the rack. The hair dryer helped some but not enough. I remembered a friend telling me once the microwave ovens worked by heating the moisture causing evaporation thus removing the moisture. This sounded like sound science to me. What the Hell...
So I toddled downstairs and chucked the shirt in for a few minutes. By the way, if you are going to attempt this yourself I recommend you only setting it for 90 seconds at a time and testing the fabric. You'd be surprised how quickly cotton heats up. So there I was, nuking the shirt, as you do, when Teddy asked how long does it take for me to make porridge for gods sake. Thank you Captain Smart Ass. You can imagine the look of shock on his face when I opened the door, took out his shirt and flung it at his head. Slightly dryer but really damn hot.
My point about all if this is that not even reaching the point of microwaving clothing has made me call the repairman. I'm no longer surprised that I would do such a silly thing, please, you've been reading this blog, it's hardly worth the mention.
Where my slippery slide into chaos is that it didn't even occur to me that it was time call. It wasn't until about an hour ago (about 5 hours after the event) did it slowly drift across my mind that maybe, just maybe it's not a good idea to blow dry and microwave clothes.
So I'm just going to embrace my inner uncouthness for a while. Maybe I should keep an Excel spreadsheet of all the nutjob stuff I do so that someday I can sit back and look at the exact point where I lost my ever loving mind. Might be useful for Ted and the kids some day.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Differences Between Kids and Adults
Don't smirk at me. I mean besides the obvious ones. I'm sick. Cut me some slack.
Last Friday Teddy woke up with a death cold. He wasn't faking. Sneezing, headache, body aches, the works. I gave him a panadol (Tylenol) around 8 am as it took me an hour to fully believe that he was sick and not just messing with me. Anyway, I drove the girls to school came back home and started on some work I had to do. By about 11:30 he was better. By better I mean perfectly damn fine.
Sigh...I knew I gave him the medicine too soon. Damn it. Really that was a rookie mistake. So he's home, healthy and bored off his butt. Lovely. It was a long day until I left to get the girls.
Fast forward a few days to yesterday which was Wednesday. I had a rather long day - which I mentioned on my FB page but really don't feel like typing again. Last night I started sneezing and my throat hurt. Crap. The little bastard gave me his cold. I woke up this morning moaning and making the horrible old lady noises without even moving. That's when I knew I was in trouble. Usually I have to at least stand up before the noises start erupting. Whoooo Boy, Mama is sick.
Only I don't get to just lay in bed. I have to get the kids up and out or else they'll be home all day with me...that's not even worth joking about. So I stumble around swearing occasionally...alright I may define occasionally different than some of you. However to my mind I was still exercising some considerable restraint.
I got the kids to school and on the drive I only had to ask twice, "Where am I going?" and then Teddy directed me along. Not bad. I'm home now and I'm blogging this, and I plan to buy some rook racks for the car on Ebay and then I'm going to bed until 2 until it's time to get the minions.
The difference you asked through bored clenched teeth?
I could pop all the drugs I want right now and I still won't be better until at least tomorrow - if I'm lucky. That little snot had ONE panadol (Tylenol) and was FINE 3 1/2 hours later. I could shoot up painkillers and enjoy a scotch chaser and I'll STILL be sick tomorrow. Why?
Mainly I think it's because children are actually alien spawn and their human bodies are delivered by the mother ship until they are in their 20's. Once the real bodies are here on Earth they start to react normally to colds and medicines. Think about it...it explains a lot.
The other reason, much less entertaining is that Teddy got to lay down and do nothing for hours. I got3 kids up and out for school - Ted was here and did help quite a bit, I do want to acknowledge that. But I packed 3 lunches, and did a load of laundry which I will hang outside in a few minutes. I'm cancelling Tessi's SLT therapy tonight but I will still have to trek out at 7:30 to pick up Teddy from AFL training as Ted has another corporate kegger to attend.
Yes, I'm goofing off here instead of resting, I know. Trust me, I will pay for that. But still think if I could beat down that stupid voice in my head that says, "The dishes have been in the sink almost 24 hours - doooo theeemmm" or "laundry won't hannnggg itsellllffff" then I might be able to recuporate. Many years ago a friend of mine was sick and I was trying to encourage her to rest. She piped up with words of wisdom her grandmother told her, "If every woman laid down every time she was sick the world would stop"
Think about that. It would stop. YOU KNOW WHY???? WE DO A CRAP LOAD OF STUFF! Maybe if one or two of us sat down a bit more people might realize that we are doing some needed things and send help.
Sorry, that must be the fever delusions talking. Alright, I'm off to take advantage of a quiet house for a few hours. After of course, I get the laundry hung, wash the dishes and sweep the floor.
Then again, I might just say bugger it and download some good trashy books and daydream at boarding school websites.
Last Friday Teddy woke up with a death cold. He wasn't faking. Sneezing, headache, body aches, the works. I gave him a panadol (Tylenol) around 8 am as it took me an hour to fully believe that he was sick and not just messing with me. Anyway, I drove the girls to school came back home and started on some work I had to do. By about 11:30 he was better. By better I mean perfectly damn fine.
Sigh...I knew I gave him the medicine too soon. Damn it. Really that was a rookie mistake. So he's home, healthy and bored off his butt. Lovely. It was a long day until I left to get the girls.
Fast forward a few days to yesterday which was Wednesday. I had a rather long day - which I mentioned on my FB page but really don't feel like typing again. Last night I started sneezing and my throat hurt. Crap. The little bastard gave me his cold. I woke up this morning moaning and making the horrible old lady noises without even moving. That's when I knew I was in trouble. Usually I have to at least stand up before the noises start erupting. Whoooo Boy, Mama is sick.
Only I don't get to just lay in bed. I have to get the kids up and out or else they'll be home all day with me...that's not even worth joking about. So I stumble around swearing occasionally...alright I may define occasionally different than some of you. However to my mind I was still exercising some considerable restraint.
I got the kids to school and on the drive I only had to ask twice, "Where am I going?" and then Teddy directed me along. Not bad. I'm home now and I'm blogging this, and I plan to buy some rook racks for the car on Ebay and then I'm going to bed until 2 until it's time to get the minions.
The difference you asked through bored clenched teeth?
I could pop all the drugs I want right now and I still won't be better until at least tomorrow - if I'm lucky. That little snot had ONE panadol (Tylenol) and was FINE 3 1/2 hours later. I could shoot up painkillers and enjoy a scotch chaser and I'll STILL be sick tomorrow. Why?
Mainly I think it's because children are actually alien spawn and their human bodies are delivered by the mother ship until they are in their 20's. Once the real bodies are here on Earth they start to react normally to colds and medicines. Think about it...it explains a lot.
The other reason, much less entertaining is that Teddy got to lay down and do nothing for hours. I got3 kids up and out for school - Ted was here and did help quite a bit, I do want to acknowledge that. But I packed 3 lunches, and did a load of laundry which I will hang outside in a few minutes. I'm cancelling Tessi's SLT therapy tonight but I will still have to trek out at 7:30 to pick up Teddy from AFL training as Ted has another corporate kegger to attend.
Yes, I'm goofing off here instead of resting, I know. Trust me, I will pay for that. But still think if I could beat down that stupid voice in my head that says, "The dishes have been in the sink almost 24 hours - doooo theeemmm" or "laundry won't hannnggg itsellllffff" then I might be able to recuporate. Many years ago a friend of mine was sick and I was trying to encourage her to rest. She piped up with words of wisdom her grandmother told her, "If every woman laid down every time she was sick the world would stop"
Think about that. It would stop. YOU KNOW WHY???? WE DO A CRAP LOAD OF STUFF! Maybe if one or two of us sat down a bit more people might realize that we are doing some needed things and send help.
Sorry, that must be the fever delusions talking. Alright, I'm off to take advantage of a quiet house for a few hours. After of course, I get the laundry hung, wash the dishes and sweep the floor.
Then again, I might just say bugger it and download some good trashy books and daydream at boarding school websites.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Happy Anniversary
Five years ago today my family stumbled blear- eyed off of a 14 hour flight and woke up in Sydney. A new country, a new continent and even a new hemisphere. Within 24 hours of travel time we left the mild temps of Spring in North Texas and arrived in the mild temps of Fall in Australia. Looking back I marvel at our audacity and stupidity. My husband, being a military brat, grew up around the world. So moving wasn't new to him. I moved all over the Northeastern US as a kid so I wasn't a slouch either. But moving as a kid is VERY different than moving as an adult. I developed a new found respect for my parents and my in-laws.
Moving is vile. Moving with kids is horrific. Moving internationally with kids is beyond words.
In our arrogance Ted and I thought we'd be fine because 1) we've moved before, many times and 2) Australians speak English. We figured we would just have to learn to drive on the other side of the road and all would be good. I don't think its possible for us to have been any more wrong. From learning about subtle, yet important culture differences to learning to drive on the other side of the road to finding out they are serious about closing stores at 5:00 to constantly being the US representative for every damn thing that happens - "I don't know what George Bush was thinking, that's kinda why we're here" - it was all right there...in our faces every day. On top of that mountain there was the minor task of raising 3 young children; 2 of which were within a year of being diagnosed with Autism. Every night I knew, I just knew it was all going to Hell and we weren't going to be able to pull it off. When it takes 3 months to get a telephone installed you know things aren't looking good for the home team. My mother had died 4 months before we moved and I was still reeling from grief...no matter how old you are when you're scared, alone and lost you just want your mom. I still do. If I sit very quietly and concentrate I can smell her perfume...Emmeraude.
It was a nightmare. And it was one of our own choosing to add insult to injury.
But then things change. I made friends with some of the moms at Teddy's school. I got the girls into a pre-school. We bought a car and within 6 months I could drive without feeling nauseous. We were the Yank family - I started feeling like there were things I could do. Things I could handle. Connor and Tessi were in their therapies and while I'd be a massive liar if I said it was easy or even not horrible...it was working. Both my daughters are in a mainstream school. Many people don't even know they are Autistic. Teddy is doing well and is known as Texas Ted by some, well people who like to annoy him. We laugh that he's bilingual because he knows the words nappies and diapers and can use Imperial and Metric.
So what I have I learned in 5 years.
1) People are people no matter where you live. In a group of 3 people, 2 will talk about the 3rd. The gaggle of moms at the school is the same everywhere. Kids are vicious little monsters to each other one minute and then offer unconditional love the second.
2) Americans have a really bad reputation outside the US. Some of it deserved, some of it not. Yes, we have our share of rotten jerks in government and many mistakes have been made. However racism, bigotry, greed and cowardice were not invented in the US. What has YOUR government done to stop injustice?
3) The Pacific Ocean is NOT warm. I freeze my tush off every time I get into the water at the beach. Seriously, 1000 degrees in the shade and I step in the water and my teeth turn blue. Insane.
4) Australians are the BEST at understanding that you work hard and you play hard. I mean this with the utmost respect. When they are on holiday work can stick it. I love that. Americans really could learn from this ideology. I bet the number heart attacks would plummet.
5) They have weird beautiful terrifying and ridiculous insects here. Seriously. I thought most of this stuff was made up. It's not. See some of my previous posts.
6) Australians are fiercely independent but have a weird tie to the Crown. Americans will NEVER understand any reason why a county would allow another country to have say over their government, recognize their holidays or have the Queen on their money. Australians will never understand the American need to be on it's own and turn it's back on a fundamental part of it's history. Deal with it. We're just going to have to agree to disagree. By the way, I will NOT sign an allegiance to Betsy when I become a citizen in a few years. The Australian Govt now has another form immigrants can sign because there were so many objections.
7) The Australians have treated their indigenous population just as horribly as the Americans treated the Native Americans. There is no restitution strong enough to rectify that fact. The horrors were just too great. I think apologies are needed from the governments (Australia has done so) but the indigenous people need to give up thinking that they will get enough repayment to make amends. Both sides need to move forward. The future generations deserve peace.
8) I will never fully understand Cricket. I swear to God they change the rules just to mess with me. 5-6 hours to play 1/2 the game? Stopping for tea breaks? Professional games that can last 5 days and end in a drawl? Nooooo, that's weird to me. I like AFL as it makes more sense to me. You run, kick the ball and hit people. That is a sport I can relate to. Rugby is growing on me. But to be honest, I miss my Steelers. Go B&G!!!!!!!!!!!
9) I miss my family in the US and I miss cheap shopping. Christ Almighty things are expensive here. But I don't want to live in the US again. I'm not a True Blue Aussie but I'm not a Yankee Doodle Dandy anymore. Not sure what that makes me. Perhaps a little of both?
Happy Anniversary Tencza Family!
Moving is vile. Moving with kids is horrific. Moving internationally with kids is beyond words.
In our arrogance Ted and I thought we'd be fine because 1) we've moved before, many times and 2) Australians speak English. We figured we would just have to learn to drive on the other side of the road and all would be good. I don't think its possible for us to have been any more wrong. From learning about subtle, yet important culture differences to learning to drive on the other side of the road to finding out they are serious about closing stores at 5:00 to constantly being the US representative for every damn thing that happens - "I don't know what George Bush was thinking, that's kinda why we're here" - it was all right there...in our faces every day. On top of that mountain there was the minor task of raising 3 young children; 2 of which were within a year of being diagnosed with Autism. Every night I knew, I just knew it was all going to Hell and we weren't going to be able to pull it off. When it takes 3 months to get a telephone installed you know things aren't looking good for the home team. My mother had died 4 months before we moved and I was still reeling from grief...no matter how old you are when you're scared, alone and lost you just want your mom. I still do. If I sit very quietly and concentrate I can smell her perfume...Emmeraude.
It was a nightmare. And it was one of our own choosing to add insult to injury.
But then things change. I made friends with some of the moms at Teddy's school. I got the girls into a pre-school. We bought a car and within 6 months I could drive without feeling nauseous. We were the Yank family - I started feeling like there were things I could do. Things I could handle. Connor and Tessi were in their therapies and while I'd be a massive liar if I said it was easy or even not horrible...it was working. Both my daughters are in a mainstream school. Many people don't even know they are Autistic. Teddy is doing well and is known as Texas Ted by some, well people who like to annoy him. We laugh that he's bilingual because he knows the words nappies and diapers and can use Imperial and Metric.
So what I have I learned in 5 years.
1) People are people no matter where you live. In a group of 3 people, 2 will talk about the 3rd. The gaggle of moms at the school is the same everywhere. Kids are vicious little monsters to each other one minute and then offer unconditional love the second.
2) Americans have a really bad reputation outside the US. Some of it deserved, some of it not. Yes, we have our share of rotten jerks in government and many mistakes have been made. However racism, bigotry, greed and cowardice were not invented in the US. What has YOUR government done to stop injustice?
3) The Pacific Ocean is NOT warm. I freeze my tush off every time I get into the water at the beach. Seriously, 1000 degrees in the shade and I step in the water and my teeth turn blue. Insane.
4) Australians are the BEST at understanding that you work hard and you play hard. I mean this with the utmost respect. When they are on holiday work can stick it. I love that. Americans really could learn from this ideology. I bet the number heart attacks would plummet.
5) They have weird beautiful terrifying and ridiculous insects here. Seriously. I thought most of this stuff was made up. It's not. See some of my previous posts.
6) Australians are fiercely independent but have a weird tie to the Crown. Americans will NEVER understand any reason why a county would allow another country to have say over their government, recognize their holidays or have the Queen on their money. Australians will never understand the American need to be on it's own and turn it's back on a fundamental part of it's history. Deal with it. We're just going to have to agree to disagree. By the way, I will NOT sign an allegiance to Betsy when I become a citizen in a few years. The Australian Govt now has another form immigrants can sign because there were so many objections.
7) The Australians have treated their indigenous population just as horribly as the Americans treated the Native Americans. There is no restitution strong enough to rectify that fact. The horrors were just too great. I think apologies are needed from the governments (Australia has done so) but the indigenous people need to give up thinking that they will get enough repayment to make amends. Both sides need to move forward. The future generations deserve peace.
8) I will never fully understand Cricket. I swear to God they change the rules just to mess with me. 5-6 hours to play 1/2 the game? Stopping for tea breaks? Professional games that can last 5 days and end in a drawl? Nooooo, that's weird to me. I like AFL as it makes more sense to me. You run, kick the ball and hit people. That is a sport I can relate to. Rugby is growing on me. But to be honest, I miss my Steelers. Go B&G!!!!!!!!!!!
9) I miss my family in the US and I miss cheap shopping. Christ Almighty things are expensive here. But I don't want to live in the US again. I'm not a True Blue Aussie but I'm not a Yankee Doodle Dandy anymore. Not sure what that makes me. Perhaps a little of both?
Happy Anniversary Tencza Family!
Monday, March 26, 2012
Telltale Signs of Age
I'm pretty sure I got old the other day. No...I'm sure. It's been a long time in coming but I've finally figured the meaning of Life and at what point you stop being young and what point you become old. Before you roll your eyes and mutter that you aren't here for a self help book let me explain. This has nothing to do with my birthday being last week. Trust me, very little that occurs on my birthday is actually about my birthday. Nor does it have to do with that weird nagging pain in I get in my hands when I try to hold a needle too long or try to manipulate my wood working tools. Oddly enough it has nothing to do with my son turning to me and ask me how I feel being so close to death.
The true epiphany came on Saturday when I took Teddy to see The Hunger Games. Nope, you're wrong there too. It's not about it being a teen movie in a theater filled with loud annoying teens. Nope. It was the seats. I had comfy seats. When I bought the tickets a week before the only showing available was the spiffy Vmax seats. $20 a pop. I was pissed but I wanted to see the movie and the regular seats were $15 so really, was it that much?
When we arrived the lights were still on 'cause I was so eager for my "having a life" to start we got to the theater 30 minutes early. Teddy and I juggled our ridiculously expensive beverages and snacks and headed down the isle. Now Australia has assigned seating in their theaters. I'm not sure why. It doesn't stop anyone from sitting wherever the Hell they want and half the time you have to say, "Excuse me Mate, you're in my seat" Only though if the theater is 1/2 way full. Anything less than you're considered the ass for making a big deal about seats. No manual to learn that one. Had to find that gem out the hard way.
But we were in luck and no one was in our seats and when we sat down I knew immediately there was a profound difference. The seats were larger than normal, in a boxy modern shape that's popular now for the in home theaters. Not that I have one, but I do see them in magazines. The seats were made out of a very soft and supple genuine Naugahyde that was a dream to sit on. There was a built in cup holder in between all seats, even the end one had it's own. No more fighting for the right to put your drink next to you! Then if that wasn't enough right in front of each cup holder was a very tiny light. Not so bright as to interfere with the movie experience but just enough to allow you to rest your drink down quickly, quietly and comfortably without accidentally missing the hole and putting the entire drink in your neighbors lap. Oh the decadence.
I was just a quivering mess. I could not believe our good fortune. Who knew such luxury was just a few dollars away? Why have they been hiding this? Advertising people! It's a great way to let the public know what's going one. I turned to Teddy with real tears in my eyes, "Oh Honey, we could get these seats again the next time we come out to the movies!" Then he looked at me oddly. Well, I shouldn't say oddly because it's really not odd for him to give me that look. "It's just a seat Mom" then followed with unspoken, yet very loud, "You dumb ass"
That's when I knew. I had willingly extra for comfort. The experience wasn't enough. I had to be comfortable in order to enjoy the entire event.
That's what old people do.
When I was a junior in college my 2 girlfriends and I drove 13 hours to Daytona and spent a week in a hotel with 3 guys we knew(a little bit, we went to school with them) and had a Helluva good time at Spring Break. It was a hotel in that a person owned a building with lots of rooms and all the rooms had a side room with a toilet and a shower and there was a TV near the beds and people gave him money to let them stay there. I hope there was some sort of inspection process when it was built but I wouldn't testify to it in court. I think there was a window. But that was a great trip in my memory and I loved it. Not one extra cent spent on comfort. All extra cash when to the daily beer allotment.
Last week I booked a holiday in Melbourne and I refused to get a cabin smaller than 3 bedrooms. I am NOT sharing with either the girls or the boys....I need my space and an entire bed to myself. I don't care what it costs. I paid extra for comfort.
That's what old people do.
When I was 27 I bought this gorgeous gray suit for work. It had a short jacket and a very long skirt. I bought a pair of gray strappy sandals that matched perfectly. They didn't match anything else I owned. When I wore them the sandals would cut out strips of flesh all over my feet. When I stumbled out to my car at the end of the day I had to pee the straps off before I could slide the shoe off and then had to go straight home and put my feet up for a few hours. I had to force myself to only wear it every 2 weeks...I loved that outfit.
I just bought myself another pair sandals because the last ones are too dirty and disgusting to wear anymore because I wear them every day. So expensive here in Australia I have to by them on Ebay in the US. Bought only for comfort. I have no idea if it matches anything I wear. I can not handle even tiniest amount of foot pain.
That's what old people do.
I've finally accepted it. Even though I've been to Metallica concerts, I can still out swear most people around me and I'm the one who taught Teddy and his friend how to use their elbows to stop a drive to the basket....I am now old. I'm willing to pay extra for my comfort.
So go ahead and make your jokes. I'll be sitting in my amazing fake leather seats with my comfy shoes. Leave me alone.
The true epiphany came on Saturday when I took Teddy to see The Hunger Games. Nope, you're wrong there too. It's not about it being a teen movie in a theater filled with loud annoying teens. Nope. It was the seats. I had comfy seats. When I bought the tickets a week before the only showing available was the spiffy Vmax seats. $20 a pop. I was pissed but I wanted to see the movie and the regular seats were $15 so really, was it that much?
When we arrived the lights were still on 'cause I was so eager for my "having a life" to start we got to the theater 30 minutes early. Teddy and I juggled our ridiculously expensive beverages and snacks and headed down the isle. Now Australia has assigned seating in their theaters. I'm not sure why. It doesn't stop anyone from sitting wherever the Hell they want and half the time you have to say, "Excuse me Mate, you're in my seat" Only though if the theater is 1/2 way full. Anything less than you're considered the ass for making a big deal about seats. No manual to learn that one. Had to find that gem out the hard way.
But we were in luck and no one was in our seats and when we sat down I knew immediately there was a profound difference. The seats were larger than normal, in a boxy modern shape that's popular now for the in home theaters. Not that I have one, but I do see them in magazines. The seats were made out of a very soft and supple genuine Naugahyde that was a dream to sit on. There was a built in cup holder in between all seats, even the end one had it's own. No more fighting for the right to put your drink next to you! Then if that wasn't enough right in front of each cup holder was a very tiny light. Not so bright as to interfere with the movie experience but just enough to allow you to rest your drink down quickly, quietly and comfortably without accidentally missing the hole and putting the entire drink in your neighbors lap. Oh the decadence.
I was just a quivering mess. I could not believe our good fortune. Who knew such luxury was just a few dollars away? Why have they been hiding this? Advertising people! It's a great way to let the public know what's going one. I turned to Teddy with real tears in my eyes, "Oh Honey, we could get these seats again the next time we come out to the movies!" Then he looked at me oddly. Well, I shouldn't say oddly because it's really not odd for him to give me that look. "It's just a seat Mom" then followed with unspoken, yet very loud, "You dumb ass"
That's when I knew. I had willingly extra for comfort. The experience wasn't enough. I had to be comfortable in order to enjoy the entire event.
That's what old people do.
When I was a junior in college my 2 girlfriends and I drove 13 hours to Daytona and spent a week in a hotel with 3 guys we knew(a little bit, we went to school with them) and had a Helluva good time at Spring Break. It was a hotel in that a person owned a building with lots of rooms and all the rooms had a side room with a toilet and a shower and there was a TV near the beds and people gave him money to let them stay there. I hope there was some sort of inspection process when it was built but I wouldn't testify to it in court. I think there was a window. But that was a great trip in my memory and I loved it. Not one extra cent spent on comfort. All extra cash when to the daily beer allotment.
Last week I booked a holiday in Melbourne and I refused to get a cabin smaller than 3 bedrooms. I am NOT sharing with either the girls or the boys....I need my space and an entire bed to myself. I don't care what it costs. I paid extra for comfort.
That's what old people do.
When I was 27 I bought this gorgeous gray suit for work. It had a short jacket and a very long skirt. I bought a pair of gray strappy sandals that matched perfectly. They didn't match anything else I owned. When I wore them the sandals would cut out strips of flesh all over my feet. When I stumbled out to my car at the end of the day I had to pee the straps off before I could slide the shoe off and then had to go straight home and put my feet up for a few hours. I had to force myself to only wear it every 2 weeks...I loved that outfit.
I just bought myself another pair sandals because the last ones are too dirty and disgusting to wear anymore because I wear them every day. So expensive here in Australia I have to by them on Ebay in the US. Bought only for comfort. I have no idea if it matches anything I wear. I can not handle even tiniest amount of foot pain.
That's what old people do.
I've finally accepted it. Even though I've been to Metallica concerts, I can still out swear most people around me and I'm the one who taught Teddy and his friend how to use their elbows to stop a drive to the basket....I am now old. I'm willing to pay extra for my comfort.
So go ahead and make your jokes. I'll be sitting in my amazing fake leather seats with my comfy shoes. Leave me alone.
Festivus is Needed Year Round.
Many Christmas songs lament the lack of year round Christmas. Or at least the "feeling" year round. Not me. I need Festivus year round. I need that euphoria created only when I'm able to point out to someone why I think they are a jackass. Knowing that I am right, they are wrong and that everyone around us knows it. That closure that comes from knowing you have let it all out and the world knows how you've been wronged. Ahhhhh, I'm telling you, it's the smell of victory in the morning....waaaaayyyy better than Napalm.
For today's post I'm going to use a different writing style. I want to write some letters to some individuals that have been causing me strife. It's been building up for a while and I need a way to say out loud what I'm feeling in a way that is safe for us all. I can't even imagine what would happen if I stooped down to their level to speak to them. So hear goes.
Dear Sasha,
There is a serious rift developing between us and I feel it's time we discuss it. You know you are not allowed to pee in the house Yes, it was you. Don't lie. When I walked into Teddy's room and noticed the flood you stood up, looked over at the puddle, looked away and started to wag your tail. See, that tells me you knew you weren't allowed to do that. You were trying to play dumb. I don't like that. You can not tell me you had no way to tell Teddy you needed go. We both know you have a loud bark and that you aren't afraid to use it. Don't tell me you've forgotten last weeks thunder storm. You, the neighbors, all their dogs in a 2km radius and I both know your lungs are in pretty kicking shape.
Also you heard Teddy complain 2 times last week about waking up with you standing on his chest breathing your famous dog breath into his mouth. That was why he fed you tic tacs. Yes, I have already had a discussion with him about not doing that.
My point is this...you are an old dog. Peeing outside is not a new trick. If you want to live to be an older dog stop peeing inside. You must have heard me swearing at you this morning, I assume that's why you went running out the door.
The ball is in your court. I hope now you understand that my threats will become promises soon and I would think that you would not care for me tying your ass to the roof and have to fight with the bush turkeys for dominance. Let me know what you decide.
All My Best,
Cecelia
Wow. People are correct. Writing is cathartic. Let's keep going.
Dear Monty,
This letter pains me to write. Usually you are titled the"Best Cat in the World" and I mean that. Seriously, any cat who never uses the litter box and prefers to go outside, well, you're a winner in my book Baby! However there are 2 issues that are causing serious pain in my life and we need to work something out.
The dead mice. Seriously, what...the...hell...are...you...thinking? For presents I like jewelry (sorry, not the cheap stuff) flowers, champers, an Ipad....you know, that sort of thing. Dead mice left on the middle of the floor? This morning I walked into my closet and there was a dead one in the middle of the floor. Dead for a while too. Um, couldn't you just rub up against my feet to say you like me? So no more mice, please.
Now as for sleeping arrangements. Apparently last night I was too subtle for you. When I grabbed you by the scruff of the neck and dragged your ass off of my chest and flung you to the floor I was really saying please don't cut off my breathing. That did NOT mean please jump back up another 10 times. I did notice that after all of that you decided to find a new spot to sleep and while yes that was an excellent thought your choice was a bit lacking. The reason I was sitting mostly upright was because I was suffering from acid reflux last night and if I lay down I end up throwing up. Very unpleasant, not good on the sheets. That did not mean that since most of my pillow was unattended you should claim it and use you paws to kick my head off the tiny bit was resting. Also when I used my arm to tip you off the pillow that was not a hidden cue for you to come around from the other side and try to sleep on my head.
Let's work on our boundaries and personal space issues ok? You know I love you but I'm not one of those, "Ahh, poor kitty needs to be near his mummy wubby, isn't this cute" I don't like sharing my bed with the kids, hell even Ted most days, I'm not sharing with you.
Love,
Cecelia
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Not bad. Feeling a bit more empowered now. Last one.
Dear Computer,
You put up pop up notices when my files are done downloading, when my free virus protection service wants me to pay, when Adobe and Firefox need me to download some fix to whatever problem their smart ass developers weren't able to fix when it was in Beta testing. You yell at me when the printer is down to it's last 300 pages of ink and you beep like Hell at me when I forget to close the file before I yank out memory stick out. Seriously, there was NO way you could tell me that the batteries in the keyboard were dying and THAT'S why it was skipping ever other letter typed?
Really?
I spent 3 days thinking that I was drunk and didn't know it because I could not type a single damn sentence without correcting every damn word 3 times.
Uncool Computer, very uncool.
Don't play stupid with me. You and I both know there's more going on inside your black and gray case than a series of if/then statements. Stop jacking with me and I'll stop having 9 browsers open at one time and ease up your usage. I'll even make sure you start getting turned off once a week for at least overnight. I understand, we all need our rest. We cool?
Sincerely,
Cecelia
Alright. I'm going to hold onto this post as proof that I can have a civil conversation with those who piss me off. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a nap. As you might have guessed it's been an eventful 24 hours.
For today's post I'm going to use a different writing style. I want to write some letters to some individuals that have been causing me strife. It's been building up for a while and I need a way to say out loud what I'm feeling in a way that is safe for us all. I can't even imagine what would happen if I stooped down to their level to speak to them. So hear goes.
Dear Sasha,
There is a serious rift developing between us and I feel it's time we discuss it. You know you are not allowed to pee in the house Yes, it was you. Don't lie. When I walked into Teddy's room and noticed the flood you stood up, looked over at the puddle, looked away and started to wag your tail. See, that tells me you knew you weren't allowed to do that. You were trying to play dumb. I don't like that. You can not tell me you had no way to tell Teddy you needed go. We both know you have a loud bark and that you aren't afraid to use it. Don't tell me you've forgotten last weeks thunder storm. You, the neighbors, all their dogs in a 2km radius and I both know your lungs are in pretty kicking shape.
Also you heard Teddy complain 2 times last week about waking up with you standing on his chest breathing your famous dog breath into his mouth. That was why he fed you tic tacs. Yes, I have already had a discussion with him about not doing that.
My point is this...you are an old dog. Peeing outside is not a new trick. If you want to live to be an older dog stop peeing inside. You must have heard me swearing at you this morning, I assume that's why you went running out the door.
The ball is in your court. I hope now you understand that my threats will become promises soon and I would think that you would not care for me tying your ass to the roof and have to fight with the bush turkeys for dominance. Let me know what you decide.
All My Best,
Cecelia
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Wow. People are correct. Writing is cathartic. Let's keep going.
Dear Monty,
This letter pains me to write. Usually you are titled the"Best Cat in the World" and I mean that. Seriously, any cat who never uses the litter box and prefers to go outside, well, you're a winner in my book Baby! However there are 2 issues that are causing serious pain in my life and we need to work something out.
The dead mice. Seriously, what...the...hell...are...you...thinking? For presents I like jewelry (sorry, not the cheap stuff) flowers, champers, an Ipad....you know, that sort of thing. Dead mice left on the middle of the floor? This morning I walked into my closet and there was a dead one in the middle of the floor. Dead for a while too. Um, couldn't you just rub up against my feet to say you like me? So no more mice, please.
Now as for sleeping arrangements. Apparently last night I was too subtle for you. When I grabbed you by the scruff of the neck and dragged your ass off of my chest and flung you to the floor I was really saying please don't cut off my breathing. That did NOT mean please jump back up another 10 times. I did notice that after all of that you decided to find a new spot to sleep and while yes that was an excellent thought your choice was a bit lacking. The reason I was sitting mostly upright was because I was suffering from acid reflux last night and if I lay down I end up throwing up. Very unpleasant, not good on the sheets. That did not mean that since most of my pillow was unattended you should claim it and use you paws to kick my head off the tiny bit was resting. Also when I used my arm to tip you off the pillow that was not a hidden cue for you to come around from the other side and try to sleep on my head.
Let's work on our boundaries and personal space issues ok? You know I love you but I'm not one of those, "Ahh, poor kitty needs to be near his mummy wubby, isn't this cute" I don't like sharing my bed with the kids, hell even Ted most days, I'm not sharing with you.
Love,
Cecelia
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Not bad. Feeling a bit more empowered now. Last one.
Dear Computer,
You put up pop up notices when my files are done downloading, when my free virus protection service wants me to pay, when Adobe and Firefox need me to download some fix to whatever problem their smart ass developers weren't able to fix when it was in Beta testing. You yell at me when the printer is down to it's last 300 pages of ink and you beep like Hell at me when I forget to close the file before I yank out memory stick out. Seriously, there was NO way you could tell me that the batteries in the keyboard were dying and THAT'S why it was skipping ever other letter typed?
Really?
I spent 3 days thinking that I was drunk and didn't know it because I could not type a single damn sentence without correcting every damn word 3 times.
Uncool Computer, very uncool.
Don't play stupid with me. You and I both know there's more going on inside your black and gray case than a series of if/then statements. Stop jacking with me and I'll stop having 9 browsers open at one time and ease up your usage. I'll even make sure you start getting turned off once a week for at least overnight. I understand, we all need our rest. We cool?
Sincerely,
Cecelia
Alright. I'm going to hold onto this post as proof that I can have a civil conversation with those who piss me off. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a nap. As you might have guessed it's been an eventful 24 hours.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Time for the Talk
No, no. Not the sex talk. I'll never be old enough for that talk. I prefer my children learn about that in embarrassing school classes and secret discussions with their buddies....like decent people. I'm referring to the talk with the girls about not doing things because a boy told them to do it.
I had great hopes that we were moving beyond this as a society. A man says it so it must be true. Utter crap. Sadly though, with the plummeting status of woman's rights in the US coupled with the most bizarre women's costumes in video games, seriously, doesn't the law of gravity have any standing in games and comic books? Has anyone seen the "new and improved" Wonder Woman's outfit? Yea....MAJOR changes there. It's become apparent that I have to start at the beginning with my girls.
Right now I'm most concerned about my youngest. Tessi from about age 18 months until age 5 was one of the toughest broads you would ever be scared to meet. And I say that with love. She wasn't scared of damn thing and if you crossed her, well if I can be blunt for a few minutes....Tessi could put the the fear of God into an Atheist. Seriously, this little chick used to follow me room to room just so she could kick me. She is the one who started the fistfight with Connor (knock down, roll around on the ground, hair-pulling donnybrook) over who got to name their baby doll Baby Zoe, after my friend's daughter. Teddy's friends learned early that even though the package was pretty she would snap you like a twig and spit in your grave if you annoyed her. Really, she was tough.
Now however there is a new Tessi. She cries over.every.damn.thing.in.the.world. Sobs over dead fish. Wails over injustices and keens like a banshee if she feels slighted in the least possible way. Tell her that her shoe is untied and then spend 20 minutes getting her to stop hiccuping and sobbing. It's seriously aggravating. I've been hoping it's just a phase, one of those annoying quirky things that you go through to test out your feelings and identity. Connor was a whiner too ...still is but it's not so bad. So the past year I've been hanging on by my fingertips waiting for her to realize what crap it is and go back to the fun of being an uber bitch.
That's not happening. To my horror it's getting worse. The final straw for me is now what Tessi wears for her sports uniform. Tessi has always preferred dresses. Honestly, I don't care. Really I don't. You want to flash your knickers at everyone as you tumble around, hey I don't judge. Mainly because I don't have to see it and as I've mentioned, I really don't give a damn. Tessi has ALWAYS had the most insane fun with wiggling her bottom at you. I figure no one has called the cops yet so I've put it low on the list of crap I have to deal with immediately. So Tessi started off in the skirt in Kindy and then at the end of the year she decided that she wanted shorts. The knickers thing really does get old. That's cool. Connor's been wearing shorts for almost 2 years...I'll buy shorts. What the Hell, it'd been 20 minutes since I'd last forked out money on a kid. No problem. Tessi starts her shorts and then she's happy as a clam.
Fast forward from December to the beginning of March. I noticed on Friday's that Tessi was wearing her skirt again. Well, it took me a while to notice. Just a bit. See, I'm not always on top of my laundry so most Friday's start with a yell, "Mommy!!!! I don't have any uniforms!" To which I usually gleefully race to do laundry or sometimes, just sometimes, say, "Oh Jesus Christ, check your laundry basket or dig deep in the back of your closet!" Or something like that. Anyway, Missy is back to wearing skirts and today I noticed that her shorts were in fact clean and in her closet. Why Tessi, why aren't you wearing them?
"Well, um...you know Muskan?", she tearfully mumbles. Muskan? The pretty little girl from your Kindy class last year? Yes, I know her. This puzzles me. Muskan always has a bright smile on her face and is famous for her sweetness, really it would be sickening if it wasn't so damn genuine. "Um well, her little brother, um he said when I was wearing my shorts I was wearing BOY CLOTHES and girls can't wear BOY CLOTHES"
Okay. So the little brother of a girl who isn't even in your class anymore tells you that shorts are boy clothes so now you won't wear them.
REALLY? REALLY? And you bought that crap??!!!
Oh Hell no.
I can not believe that I am going to have to sit Miss Thang - the former terror of the street down and and explain that we do not let other people tell us what we can wear....especially boys. I have put up with this mamby pamby, wussy, oh whatever you want dear crap long enough. She has the stones to fight with her sister who is a foot taller than her but not a kid a year younger and 6 inches shorter? Like Hell. I feel like the the designer from the Incredibles shouting at Elastic Girl, "What is this? Fight, Win! Confront the problem!"
Wear the skirt because you want to. Not because some boy says you should. If I hear one more line in a book, on TV, in a conversation with a friend or overheard on the playground about "cause a boy said" I am going to do something extremely unpleasant. I thought the days of marches and bra burnings were over but it seems like it might be time to bring them back full steam. Me being a strong woman does not mean that I want to make men weaker. My husband is a very strong man and he strength is not dependent upon my weakness. And I love him for that. This is the message I want to convey to my girls...my son too.
So when Tessi gets home we're going to chat. It's time for the ball-busting, I'll make YOU cry Tessi to come back. At least at school. Nothing would make me happier than to get a call from the school saying, "Ummm Cecelia, could you come in for Tessi...she's hung up Samreet with her sports skirt...again"
"Why, yes, I'll be happy to bring her shorts"
I had great hopes that we were moving beyond this as a society. A man says it so it must be true. Utter crap. Sadly though, with the plummeting status of woman's rights in the US coupled with the most bizarre women's costumes in video games, seriously, doesn't the law of gravity have any standing in games and comic books? Has anyone seen the "new and improved" Wonder Woman's outfit? Yea....MAJOR changes there. It's become apparent that I have to start at the beginning with my girls.
Right now I'm most concerned about my youngest. Tessi from about age 18 months until age 5 was one of the toughest broads you would ever be scared to meet. And I say that with love. She wasn't scared of damn thing and if you crossed her, well if I can be blunt for a few minutes....Tessi could put the the fear of God into an Atheist. Seriously, this little chick used to follow me room to room just so she could kick me. She is the one who started the fistfight with Connor (knock down, roll around on the ground, hair-pulling donnybrook) over who got to name their baby doll Baby Zoe, after my friend's daughter. Teddy's friends learned early that even though the package was pretty she would snap you like a twig and spit in your grave if you annoyed her. Really, she was tough.
Now however there is a new Tessi. She cries over.every.damn.thing.in.the.world. Sobs over dead fish. Wails over injustices and keens like a banshee if she feels slighted in the least possible way. Tell her that her shoe is untied and then spend 20 minutes getting her to stop hiccuping and sobbing. It's seriously aggravating. I've been hoping it's just a phase, one of those annoying quirky things that you go through to test out your feelings and identity. Connor was a whiner too ...still is but it's not so bad. So the past year I've been hanging on by my fingertips waiting for her to realize what crap it is and go back to the fun of being an uber bitch.
That's not happening. To my horror it's getting worse. The final straw for me is now what Tessi wears for her sports uniform. Tessi has always preferred dresses. Honestly, I don't care. Really I don't. You want to flash your knickers at everyone as you tumble around, hey I don't judge. Mainly because I don't have to see it and as I've mentioned, I really don't give a damn. Tessi has ALWAYS had the most insane fun with wiggling her bottom at you. I figure no one has called the cops yet so I've put it low on the list of crap I have to deal with immediately. So Tessi started off in the skirt in Kindy and then at the end of the year she decided that she wanted shorts. The knickers thing really does get old. That's cool. Connor's been wearing shorts for almost 2 years...I'll buy shorts. What the Hell, it'd been 20 minutes since I'd last forked out money on a kid. No problem. Tessi starts her shorts and then she's happy as a clam.
Fast forward from December to the beginning of March. I noticed on Friday's that Tessi was wearing her skirt again. Well, it took me a while to notice. Just a bit. See, I'm not always on top of my laundry so most Friday's start with a yell, "Mommy!!!! I don't have any uniforms!" To which I usually gleefully race to do laundry or sometimes, just sometimes, say, "Oh Jesus Christ, check your laundry basket or dig deep in the back of your closet!" Or something like that. Anyway, Missy is back to wearing skirts and today I noticed that her shorts were in fact clean and in her closet. Why Tessi, why aren't you wearing them?
"Well, um...you know Muskan?", she tearfully mumbles. Muskan? The pretty little girl from your Kindy class last year? Yes, I know her. This puzzles me. Muskan always has a bright smile on her face and is famous for her sweetness, really it would be sickening if it wasn't so damn genuine. "Um well, her little brother, um he said when I was wearing my shorts I was wearing BOY CLOTHES and girls can't wear BOY CLOTHES"
Okay. So the little brother of a girl who isn't even in your class anymore tells you that shorts are boy clothes so now you won't wear them.
REALLY? REALLY? And you bought that crap??!!!
Oh Hell no.
I can not believe that I am going to have to sit Miss Thang - the former terror of the street down and and explain that we do not let other people tell us what we can wear....especially boys. I have put up with this mamby pamby, wussy, oh whatever you want dear crap long enough. She has the stones to fight with her sister who is a foot taller than her but not a kid a year younger and 6 inches shorter? Like Hell. I feel like the the designer from the Incredibles shouting at Elastic Girl, "What is this? Fight, Win! Confront the problem!"
Wear the skirt because you want to. Not because some boy says you should. If I hear one more line in a book, on TV, in a conversation with a friend or overheard on the playground about "cause a boy said" I am going to do something extremely unpleasant. I thought the days of marches and bra burnings were over but it seems like it might be time to bring them back full steam. Me being a strong woman does not mean that I want to make men weaker. My husband is a very strong man and he strength is not dependent upon my weakness. And I love him for that. This is the message I want to convey to my girls...my son too.
So when Tessi gets home we're going to chat. It's time for the ball-busting, I'll make YOU cry Tessi to come back. At least at school. Nothing would make me happier than to get a call from the school saying, "Ummm Cecelia, could you come in for Tessi...she's hung up Samreet with her sports skirt...again"
"Why, yes, I'll be happy to bring her shorts"
Thursday, March 22, 2012
What's in a Name?
Thadeus Edward Tencza. It's my son's, husband's and father in law's name. My father in law has several cousins and nephews named Thadeus also. It's the Tencza name. We use it. A lot.
However, yesterday it really bit me having a son and a hubby with the same name. Yesterday Teddy took another step away from childhood by being allowed to take a bus home alone. I took the girls to gymnastics and Teddy was allowed to walk to the station and get himself home. It's a test for both of us on handling the trimming of the cord so-to-speak. I have a mobile phone for him only to use when he's on these alone missions with the understanding that he has to call or txt me when he gets there safely. Being the anal-retentive...I mean organized person that I am I pre-programmed his phone with all the numbers I thought he'd need plus I programmed my phone with his email, phone number, picture and personalized ring tone. Howard Wolowitz from Big Bang Theory shouting, "I am the Swordmaster!!!"
Anyway, I was counting the seconds waiting to hear from him while I was sitting on the ground outside gymnastics with some of my friends and Connor and her friends while Tessi was inside. "Iam the Swordmaster!!!" belted out and Teddy's voice come out saying, "Mom? Can you...." click. I try calling him back but no answer. I then lost reception. THANK YOU OPTUS! Reconnected and started going through my address book to find him and call him back. I hit what I thought was Teddy and ended up calling Ted. At work, I'm sure in a meeting. Crap. Now I've interrupted Ted and I STILL don't know if Teddy was ok or not. Now I am panicking because I know that Teddy only called me because he was being attacked by a pack of rabid wolves or 12 year old girls. Both savagely vicious. By the way, in case you haven't guessed, I'm not doing too well with this cutting the cord crap.
Phone rings again and it was Teddy, all was ok. Somehow he put the phone in Airplaine mode...I don't know, it's a damn Droid...I can't use those damn things. Anyway all is good. I hang up relieved and decide I should let Ted know. So I type up a quick text lamenting the woes of being scared shitless and send it off...to TEDDY. Damnit. I yell and swear which of course brings Connor and her friends over to laugh at the stupid parent who can't operate a mobile phone. Shut up Girls before I hit you with my cane.
So I send message off again. Once again it's to freakin Teddy. Son.of.a.bitch. Now not only did I do it again my swearing is REALLY peaking the interest of those around me. Great.
I stop, take a deep breath and type, "Ignore that last damn message!" and send and then Teddy responds ok. Good man, he's learning to deal with woman ala his father..very wise. Less is more.
So in the end I did the only thing I felt I could. I changed Teddy's name to Lord Dumbass in my phone.
Don't judge me. That WAS me being polite.
However, yesterday it really bit me having a son and a hubby with the same name. Yesterday Teddy took another step away from childhood by being allowed to take a bus home alone. I took the girls to gymnastics and Teddy was allowed to walk to the station and get himself home. It's a test for both of us on handling the trimming of the cord so-to-speak. I have a mobile phone for him only to use when he's on these alone missions with the understanding that he has to call or txt me when he gets there safely. Being the anal-retentive...I mean organized person that I am I pre-programmed his phone with all the numbers I thought he'd need plus I programmed my phone with his email, phone number, picture and personalized ring tone. Howard Wolowitz from Big Bang Theory shouting, "I am the Swordmaster!!!"
Anyway, I was counting the seconds waiting to hear from him while I was sitting on the ground outside gymnastics with some of my friends and Connor and her friends while Tessi was inside. "Iam the Swordmaster!!!" belted out and Teddy's voice come out saying, "Mom? Can you...." click. I try calling him back but no answer. I then lost reception. THANK YOU OPTUS! Reconnected and started going through my address book to find him and call him back. I hit what I thought was Teddy and ended up calling Ted. At work, I'm sure in a meeting. Crap. Now I've interrupted Ted and I STILL don't know if Teddy was ok or not. Now I am panicking because I know that Teddy only called me because he was being attacked by a pack of rabid wolves or 12 year old girls. Both savagely vicious. By the way, in case you haven't guessed, I'm not doing too well with this cutting the cord crap.
Phone rings again and it was Teddy, all was ok. Somehow he put the phone in Airplaine mode...I don't know, it's a damn Droid...I can't use those damn things. Anyway all is good. I hang up relieved and decide I should let Ted know. So I type up a quick text lamenting the woes of being scared shitless and send it off...to TEDDY. Damnit. I yell and swear which of course brings Connor and her friends over to laugh at the stupid parent who can't operate a mobile phone. Shut up Girls before I hit you with my cane.
So I send message off again. Once again it's to freakin Teddy. Son.of.a.bitch. Now not only did I do it again my swearing is REALLY peaking the interest of those around me. Great.
I stop, take a deep breath and type, "Ignore that last damn message!" and send and then Teddy responds ok. Good man, he's learning to deal with woman ala his father..very wise. Less is more.
So in the end I did the only thing I felt I could. I changed Teddy's name to Lord Dumbass in my phone.
Don't judge me. That WAS me being polite.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Desperate Plead for Help with Translations
I don't mean to sound dramatic but I could desperately use some help right now with translating words and phrases into English. Please look at the following pictures. They are pictures of a chart I put up to explain what needs to be done in the morning before school. We always put visual aids to explain things to be done. Both Connor and Tessi have always done better when they see pictures. It's one of the many things therapists teach parents when you first learn your child is Autistic. I've always been amazed at how much better they work than using speech with the girls. Actually not just the girls, all kids.
Anyway, here is the chart.
Good. What I need help with is understanding the double meanings that some of these phrases or even pictures have. See my kids are having problems following this chart. Can anyone point out the phrases that actually mean, "chase the cat up and down the steps?" Does "eat breakfast" translate to"needle your sister until her head explodes" or is it the picture of the sandwich that shouts, "forget to put on socks!"
Now, I 'm quite serious. I have taken several linguistics classes in college, even one in high school so I am fully educated in the principle of hidden meanings and double entrendres. I know EXACTLY what it means when a female says, "Fine, go ahead and do it" and trust me it is never that. Imagine my confusion then when I can not find the extras in this chart. I really must be as stupid as my children have been accusing me of being. So be honest, it's the picture of the backpack that is a hidden cult message that screams, "Don't remember that you wear the same frickin' shoes every day and for Chrissake, don't remember where they are" No? Too obvious. Man, they are clever little SOB's. It's the "do hair" phrase isn't it?
Ok, I've got that now. Where is the code hidden for, "be unable to.do.a.single.god.damn.thing. without your mother repeating it 12 times?" Now that one I'm going to have to fall on my hands and knees and beg you people to find for me. Unfortunately, that one is causing my eye twitch to return. As well as a colossal headache. Apparently it's also in there that they should not remember how to find a spoon in the drawer for the cereal or where we keep the milk. No I'm not kidding. Where we keep the milk. One more time. WHERE THE DAMN MILK IS KEPT. I was asked that today. Twice.
Please let me know what you can find out for me. I'm afraid I didn't bring my A game to parenting this morning and Mommy had a little meltdown. I have informed all 3 that tomorrow I will come downstairs, set out breakfast items and items for lunch. I will do hair if asked and I will listen to readers if requested. That is the only part of the normal morning routine I will participate in. I WILL get a single freaking cup of tea drunk in UNDER 20 minutes if it kills me. At 8:20 I will announced that I am leaving to drive them to school. Anyone still in their jammies or knickers and unfed will have an UNPLEASANT day at school as they will STILL BE IN THEIR GOD DAMN JAMMIES OR KNICKERS AT SCHOOL.
I'm going back to bed now as I'm sure you can imagine, my head hurts. If I'm not at school pick up whatever you do, DO NOT CALL ME.
Anyway, here is the chart.
I went ahead and took some close up shots of the pictures and instructions for you.
Does this seem easy to read? Lower age vocabulary? Easy to understand?
Are the images clear? Any ambiguity on the meaning?
Good. What I need help with is understanding the double meanings that some of these phrases or even pictures have. See my kids are having problems following this chart. Can anyone point out the phrases that actually mean, "chase the cat up and down the steps?" Does "eat breakfast" translate to"needle your sister until her head explodes" or is it the picture of the sandwich that shouts, "forget to put on socks!"
Now, I 'm quite serious. I have taken several linguistics classes in college, even one in high school so I am fully educated in the principle of hidden meanings and double entrendres. I know EXACTLY what it means when a female says, "Fine, go ahead and do it" and trust me it is never that. Imagine my confusion then when I can not find the extras in this chart. I really must be as stupid as my children have been accusing me of being. So be honest, it's the picture of the backpack that is a hidden cult message that screams, "Don't remember that you wear the same frickin' shoes every day and for Chrissake, don't remember where they are" No? Too obvious. Man, they are clever little SOB's. It's the "do hair" phrase isn't it?
Ok, I've got that now. Where is the code hidden for, "be unable to.do.a.single.god.damn.thing. without your mother repeating it 12 times?" Now that one I'm going to have to fall on my hands and knees and beg you people to find for me. Unfortunately, that one is causing my eye twitch to return. As well as a colossal headache. Apparently it's also in there that they should not remember how to find a spoon in the drawer for the cereal or where we keep the milk. No I'm not kidding. Where we keep the milk. One more time. WHERE THE DAMN MILK IS KEPT. I was asked that today. Twice.
Please let me know what you can find out for me. I'm afraid I didn't bring my A game to parenting this morning and Mommy had a little meltdown. I have informed all 3 that tomorrow I will come downstairs, set out breakfast items and items for lunch. I will do hair if asked and I will listen to readers if requested. That is the only part of the normal morning routine I will participate in. I WILL get a single freaking cup of tea drunk in UNDER 20 minutes if it kills me. At 8:20 I will announced that I am leaving to drive them to school. Anyone still in their jammies or knickers and unfed will have an UNPLEASANT day at school as they will STILL BE IN THEIR GOD DAMN JAMMIES OR KNICKERS AT SCHOOL.
I'm going back to bed now as I'm sure you can imagine, my head hurts. If I'm not at school pick up whatever you do, DO NOT CALL ME.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Description of Parenting
Parenting is never like it's supposed to be.
That's a stupid statement. How can raising a child be supposed to be like anything? Each parent is different. Each child is different. Each environment in which the family is in is different. So what do we mean when we say it's not like it's supposed to be? I think that's it's different than what we THINK it should be. When I'm faced with a disastrous parenting moment - really disastrous, not the daily catastrophes - Christ...those are EXACTLY like we all think they will be...I mean the BAD moments, nothing goes like I think it will. The reason is because, well, if I thought there was a chance in hell it would be like that I never would have signed on for the gig. Hell, what rational person would? Seriously, I have walked away from jobs when a boss acted inappropriately. I get pissy with strangers who imply I don't know what I'm doing. I am the QUEEN of smart ass remarks when people cross boundaries with me. Yell at me? Get real...no one yells at me. Lie to me? That's comical. Piss me off? I am famous on two continents for my abilities of exacting brutal and public punishment.
My father taught me well, "Get me once, shame on you. Get me twice, shame on me" It's a guide to life for me.
Parenting though...that's jumping up and screaming, "Oh Me! Pick me to step on tacks during the night!!"
Why in God's name would I willingly sign up to have the emotional equivalent of my intestines being ripped out of my body through my ears and having my heart stamped upon by stiletto wearing spawns of Hell? That spawn of course coming from Ted's side...we're all normal on my side. No really...trust me, Welches and Michaels' have a long history of normality. We just accept radically different things as normal, but that still counts. At least that's what we'll told all the doctors, police and social workers over the years. But I digress.
There is nothing you can read, no tv show you can watch no scenario you can act out that will accurately prepare you for the reality of parenting. There's simply nothing like it in the world. And the worst part is KNOWING this. I really had it drum into me this weekend that I know nothing about how to do this job. I am swinging for the cheap seats with every.single.step. to the plate. Who on earth thought this was a good way to teach parenting? Such an important job left up to novices, idiots and mild neurotics. And those are the ones who get the good presents and Mother's and Father's Day.
Who did? No one. No one set this system up. That whole free will thing is in play and that leaves all of us swinging in the breeze, hoping to raise kids and help them become less neurotic than you. Most days I know it's a good thing that Big Brother isn't out there yet and there is free will. Some days though....some days I would LOVE a big manual with large page numbers to give me the simple instruction, "When ____ does ____ you do ____ and then everyone shares a cookie and it will be alright"
But there's no book though. There is no Hitchiker's Guide to Parenting and anyone who claims to own it is a big fat liar.
Yet, knowing that here I am. Mother of 3. I'm still here, despite all their best efforts. Why indeed.
Because not being the mother of 3 is 100 times worse. Even the thought that it might be gone is enough to drop me breathless to my knees. I think I'd forgotten that a bit lately. I remember it now now.
So what is parenting supposed to be like? It's the kick the teeth you weren't expecting and then you find out you can't live without it. But...on good days, there are cookies.
That's a stupid statement. How can raising a child be supposed to be like anything? Each parent is different. Each child is different. Each environment in which the family is in is different. So what do we mean when we say it's not like it's supposed to be? I think that's it's different than what we THINK it should be. When I'm faced with a disastrous parenting moment - really disastrous, not the daily catastrophes - Christ...those are EXACTLY like we all think they will be...I mean the BAD moments, nothing goes like I think it will. The reason is because, well, if I thought there was a chance in hell it would be like that I never would have signed on for the gig. Hell, what rational person would? Seriously, I have walked away from jobs when a boss acted inappropriately. I get pissy with strangers who imply I don't know what I'm doing. I am the QUEEN of smart ass remarks when people cross boundaries with me. Yell at me? Get real...no one yells at me. Lie to me? That's comical. Piss me off? I am famous on two continents for my abilities of exacting brutal and public punishment.
My father taught me well, "Get me once, shame on you. Get me twice, shame on me" It's a guide to life for me.
Parenting though...that's jumping up and screaming, "Oh Me! Pick me to step on tacks during the night!!"
Why in God's name would I willingly sign up to have the emotional equivalent of my intestines being ripped out of my body through my ears and having my heart stamped upon by stiletto wearing spawns of Hell? That spawn of course coming from Ted's side...we're all normal on my side. No really...trust me, Welches and Michaels' have a long history of normality. We just accept radically different things as normal, but that still counts. At least that's what we'll told all the doctors, police and social workers over the years. But I digress.
There is nothing you can read, no tv show you can watch no scenario you can act out that will accurately prepare you for the reality of parenting. There's simply nothing like it in the world. And the worst part is KNOWING this. I really had it drum into me this weekend that I know nothing about how to do this job. I am swinging for the cheap seats with every.single.step. to the plate. Who on earth thought this was a good way to teach parenting? Such an important job left up to novices, idiots and mild neurotics. And those are the ones who get the good presents and Mother's and Father's Day.
Who did? No one. No one set this system up. That whole free will thing is in play and that leaves all of us swinging in the breeze, hoping to raise kids and help them become less neurotic than you. Most days I know it's a good thing that Big Brother isn't out there yet and there is free will. Some days though....some days I would LOVE a big manual with large page numbers to give me the simple instruction, "When ____ does ____ you do ____ and then everyone shares a cookie and it will be alright"
But there's no book though. There is no Hitchiker's Guide to Parenting and anyone who claims to own it is a big fat liar.
Yet, knowing that here I am. Mother of 3. I'm still here, despite all their best efforts. Why indeed.
Because not being the mother of 3 is 100 times worse. Even the thought that it might be gone is enough to drop me breathless to my knees. I think I'd forgotten that a bit lately. I remember it now now.
So what is parenting supposed to be like? It's the kick the teeth you weren't expecting and then you find out you can't live without it. But...on good days, there are cookies.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Learning Moments
Life lessons, learning moments, opportunities for change are all cute buzz words. I use them with my kids when I'm trying to explain why Life is vile sometimes or even why things happen. It's very easy to come up with these pithy phrases and try to use them to explain away the icky bits of day to day living. So as a grown up I should already know these pearls of wisdom and should be able to wield them like a broadsword and defend myself from my own icky things that pop up.
Sadly, I don't think I remember that I'm a grown up sometimes and when a few or a dozen nasty things happen at once I can't quite seem to make myself trudge right along. I've never been one of those, "Oh, it's ok, it doesn't matter. My aren't the flowers pretty" type of person. If I'm sad I'm sad. If I'm pissed, I'm pissed. If I'm both, well, look out.
The last few weeks have not been the poster child for good parenting, good wife, friend, American, Temporary Resident, human being...whatever the Hell I am. So I haven't written about anything because I knew I couldn't be funny. That's what most people see as my purpose in their lives I think. When I'm not funny, well, what's really the point. For a few people, my humor has lost it's appeal and I've found out that a few friends I thought I had didn't really like me at all. Judging from their reactions of late, it would seem they never did. I had a purpose and then I didn't.
In a normal frame of mind I could brush that off. After all I can think of a few people that I've encountered that I honestly have zero use for. Some family members and some people I deal with at school. That really is a part of Life. Survive those you have too.
But lately while I've been assuming my evil troll mom title with Teddy and seeing myself through his eyes it's easier to feel like I am less than what I am. Nasty words have a bit more meaning and more bite to them. It doesn't help matter that my self-esteem level has never been the highest.
So during the last few weeks I've been battling fair-weather friends, children who think Satan is taking notes from me and myself feeling pitted against them. I'm trying now to look forward a bit. Today I booked a cabin in Melbourne. A city I've never seen and have been waiting to invesitgate. Over the school holidays I'm going to drive 10 hours with my 3 kids and 1 friend of my son and hope we all end up there alive and with me not arrested for child abuse. I don't care. It's out of here. Sydney is a great city but I need something different. Just to see another part of Australia. Don't know if it will look different but at least I'll know it's different. That will help.
I'll try to write a bit more soon. I just need to figure out what to say that isn't whining. Many thanks to those who have asked for more blogging. I will hope to be back soon. AFL season is starting and there's always hope of one of the kids doing something that will drive me up my tree. Take care all!
Sadly, I don't think I remember that I'm a grown up sometimes and when a few or a dozen nasty things happen at once I can't quite seem to make myself trudge right along. I've never been one of those, "Oh, it's ok, it doesn't matter. My aren't the flowers pretty" type of person. If I'm sad I'm sad. If I'm pissed, I'm pissed. If I'm both, well, look out.
The last few weeks have not been the poster child for good parenting, good wife, friend, American, Temporary Resident, human being...whatever the Hell I am. So I haven't written about anything because I knew I couldn't be funny. That's what most people see as my purpose in their lives I think. When I'm not funny, well, what's really the point. For a few people, my humor has lost it's appeal and I've found out that a few friends I thought I had didn't really like me at all. Judging from their reactions of late, it would seem they never did. I had a purpose and then I didn't.
In a normal frame of mind I could brush that off. After all I can think of a few people that I've encountered that I honestly have zero use for. Some family members and some people I deal with at school. That really is a part of Life. Survive those you have too.
But lately while I've been assuming my evil troll mom title with Teddy and seeing myself through his eyes it's easier to feel like I am less than what I am. Nasty words have a bit more meaning and more bite to them. It doesn't help matter that my self-esteem level has never been the highest.
So during the last few weeks I've been battling fair-weather friends, children who think Satan is taking notes from me and myself feeling pitted against them. I'm trying now to look forward a bit. Today I booked a cabin in Melbourne. A city I've never seen and have been waiting to invesitgate. Over the school holidays I'm going to drive 10 hours with my 3 kids and 1 friend of my son and hope we all end up there alive and with me not arrested for child abuse. I don't care. It's out of here. Sydney is a great city but I need something different. Just to see another part of Australia. Don't know if it will look different but at least I'll know it's different. That will help.
I'll try to write a bit more soon. I just need to figure out what to say that isn't whining. Many thanks to those who have asked for more blogging. I will hope to be back soon. AFL season is starting and there's always hope of one of the kids doing something that will drive me up my tree. Take care all!
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Changing Job Title but Keeping Job Description
A few weeks back I said that I had finally defined my job. A mission statement if you will.
I reject your reality and I substitute my own. I stole it from Adam Savage from Mythbusters. Proudly so I might add.
I think it sums up a lot of what I've been doing the last 11 1/2 years. A toddlers reality is pitching a fit in the store to get a toy, I reject this reality by thumping a tush or ignore and move on. My daughter at 6 is still pulling the same crap because in sense of self-development she still is a toddler -another joy of Autism, you get to have a 2 year old for YEARS!!!, for her I use the latter technique. I say that because while the darling expert parents insist that all these brats pretending to be Autistic just need a good ass-kicking, sadly it doesn't work that way. I know, it's a shock you people are wrong, what with all your years in early childhood education, but there it is. Sorry, learn to live with disappointment.
The next reality to be crushed is the little girl "bitch" movement that sadly is starting earlier and earlier with our daughters. My girls will pick on someone to make themselves feel better and I crush that reality by demanding apologies, saying same crap to them and ask how they like and of course the classic, "You can't make of her shoes because you are all wearing the same black death school shoes...you twit". In a loving caring kind of way of course. It's awful to watch and I LOATHE gender stereotyping but it's true. Girls, even the nicest, sweetest ones will turn on each other like feral harpies looking for a slow painful kill. And they'll do it over jewelry and hair bows. Several of my mom friends and I are on constant patrol for Bitchygirlitus and work with each other and sometimes the teachers against the girls and crush their plans.
Now onto my current reality rejecting job. The crushing of coolness and awesomeness. It is Connors reality that at 7 she knows she must own and wear strapless dresses. This I have compromised and have only partially crushed. Yes, I caved and made the dress but she can only wear it around the house. That way it can constantly fall to her waist in relative obscurity. She feels adult and fashion forward and I feel like I've done my part to keep away the pedophiles. The other coolness I crush is Teddy's self perceived awesomeness. Arrogance doesn't really accurately describe his behavior. I'm starting to believe that he believes he would walk on water but right now he doesn't feel like doing all the exercise. He thinks he is too evolved to do chores and speak to his sisters in a civil tone. I crush that reality do my best "the Lord Giveth and Mom Taketh away" spiel. It's a pretty good spiel. I can't stand uppity prats so it's fairly easy to come up with ways to torment them. Hell, I've been doing THAT JOB since I was a teen.
But enough about job titles descriptions. I am slowly learning that my actual title of MOTHER is changing and I can't seem to do anything about it. If I was in a paying job I would at least have the recourse of filing a complaint with HR or more subtly talk to my boss about the change in my title and or duties. Now my job title is being altered by the people who work for me. This is a shift in management dynamics that I never knew was an option. I know a lot of companies are doing the whole, "We are all equal on the same team nonsense" but in the end, NO ONE is telling the boss to change their title to SUCKY BOSS....at least not to their faces. See I've gone from MOTHER to BAD MOTHER. By that I'm not talking about the piddling, "I don't like my mother, she makes me eat veggies" No, no. I'm talking about the, "My mother is a bad person. She hates me and it's her or me and I chose me" The writing on the wall in my house is that Teddy is in terrible torment because of the oppressive rule of the MAN.
That last statement should be WOMAN I know but the historical context of the MAN just was too good to pass up. I say, let's take a little poetic license, live Life on the edge and be done with it but hey, maybe you want to add to my list of crappy things I've done today. That's cool. The list is growing longer by the minute.
Back to our story. By oppression I mean he is completely disheartened and downtrodden by my insane insistence that he stop trying to argue with his 6-year old, mildly Autistic sister as he does with his peers and me. He thinks those last two terms are synonymous but that's part of that reality crushing gig I have going right now. It's a work in progress. Teddy actually thinks that it's reasonable for him to tell his sister to "Stop being a slacker" and "hang up more clothes on the line" even though he is 1. A good foot taller than her and she can't reach the line like he can and 2. Because of her glasses she can't see as well as he can, certainly not rows and rows of thin clothes line and 3. He needs to hang up the damn clothes too. For me to actually insist on telling the both of them to knock it off and hang up the damn clothes before I find more chores for BOTH of them to do is blatant favoritism towards his cunning sister and an obvious attempt on my part to extract free slave labor from his sensitive hands.
If that isn't enough I had the gall to suggest that if he slammed one more thing or rolled his eyes or flipped up his shoulders I would keep finding chores for him to do. The Hell never ends. Then dear God, I did it. I ACTUALLY saw him answer yes when I asked, "Is anyone still planning on being crappy to each other?" and I sent him outside to sweep the leaves off of the steps . Then, the bitch I am, I went outside and declared publicly, where everyone in the world could hear the shame, that he continued with this crap that was fine with me I'll find chores for him to do all damn day so we didn't have to be around each other.
What.the.Hell.is.going.on.here? Truly it is a world gone mad. Hmmm, that's actually what BOTH Teddy and I keep saying.
What I find most amusing and no, there isn't a lot, is that what I'm doing isn't really that different. I've always been an pain in the kids' asses....collectively speaking. I have always expected certain things and come crushing down down like the fist of God when the expectations haven't been met. Hello? Is he new? When have I EVER let him get away with being an ass to me? I'm the mom who tore him a new asshole in front of half the school when he was 7 and he tried to run away from me and make me chase him down the street. I destroyed his soul that day, I did it publicly and I was happy to do it. About 6 months ago I overheard a friend of his ask him why he didn't have Minecraft yet. Teddy replied that I had said no. The friend said, "Just keep asking her, she'll cave" - yes he did. He really said that. I heard Teddy snort and whisper, "Are you crazy, you know what she's like" and yes, I AM LIKE THAT. Nag me for crap I've already said no to? I'll get it for everyone else in the family BUT you. I'm the one one who just a few weeks ago froze his computer, xbox and tv privileges and laughed at him while I did it.
However now, doing the exact same things has given him the authority to think me even more monstrous, more evil. OK...well...I'm afraid Teddy, my darling Love that it is you or me and I chose me. See, if I don't spend the next few years being the enemy from Hell for you I'm afraid that you are going to turn into the arrogant, megalomaniac, snot-nosed, "The World Owes Me" and "all should kneel before Zod" type of jerk that no normal person can stand. I can't handle a lifetime of that.Apparently we get to have you back in a few years. I've heard several moms say the kid you have as a child returns as an adult if you can survive the teen years.
7 1/2 more years to go. Until then my darling, ask not for whom the bitch tolls, the bitch tolls for thee.
I wonder if John Donne was a bad parent too...
I reject your reality and I substitute my own. I stole it from Adam Savage from Mythbusters. Proudly so I might add.
I think it sums up a lot of what I've been doing the last 11 1/2 years. A toddlers reality is pitching a fit in the store to get a toy, I reject this reality by thumping a tush or ignore and move on. My daughter at 6 is still pulling the same crap because in sense of self-development she still is a toddler -another joy of Autism, you get to have a 2 year old for YEARS!!!, for her I use the latter technique. I say that because while the darling expert parents insist that all these brats pretending to be Autistic just need a good ass-kicking, sadly it doesn't work that way. I know, it's a shock you people are wrong, what with all your years in early childhood education, but there it is. Sorry, learn to live with disappointment.
The next reality to be crushed is the little girl "bitch" movement that sadly is starting earlier and earlier with our daughters. My girls will pick on someone to make themselves feel better and I crush that reality by demanding apologies, saying same crap to them and ask how they like and of course the classic, "You can't make of her shoes because you are all wearing the same black death school shoes...you twit". In a loving caring kind of way of course. It's awful to watch and I LOATHE gender stereotyping but it's true. Girls, even the nicest, sweetest ones will turn on each other like feral harpies looking for a slow painful kill. And they'll do it over jewelry and hair bows. Several of my mom friends and I are on constant patrol for Bitchygirlitus and work with each other and sometimes the teachers against the girls and crush their plans.
Now onto my current reality rejecting job. The crushing of coolness and awesomeness. It is Connors reality that at 7 she knows she must own and wear strapless dresses. This I have compromised and have only partially crushed. Yes, I caved and made the dress but she can only wear it around the house. That way it can constantly fall to her waist in relative obscurity. She feels adult and fashion forward and I feel like I've done my part to keep away the pedophiles. The other coolness I crush is Teddy's self perceived awesomeness. Arrogance doesn't really accurately describe his behavior. I'm starting to believe that he believes he would walk on water but right now he doesn't feel like doing all the exercise. He thinks he is too evolved to do chores and speak to his sisters in a civil tone. I crush that reality do my best "the Lord Giveth and Mom Taketh away" spiel. It's a pretty good spiel. I can't stand uppity prats so it's fairly easy to come up with ways to torment them. Hell, I've been doing THAT JOB since I was a teen.
But enough about job titles descriptions. I am slowly learning that my actual title of MOTHER is changing and I can't seem to do anything about it. If I was in a paying job I would at least have the recourse of filing a complaint with HR or more subtly talk to my boss about the change in my title and or duties. Now my job title is being altered by the people who work for me. This is a shift in management dynamics that I never knew was an option. I know a lot of companies are doing the whole, "We are all equal on the same team nonsense" but in the end, NO ONE is telling the boss to change their title to SUCKY BOSS....at least not to their faces. See I've gone from MOTHER to BAD MOTHER. By that I'm not talking about the piddling, "I don't like my mother, she makes me eat veggies" No, no. I'm talking about the, "My mother is a bad person. She hates me and it's her or me and I chose me" The writing on the wall in my house is that Teddy is in terrible torment because of the oppressive rule of the MAN.
That last statement should be WOMAN I know but the historical context of the MAN just was too good to pass up. I say, let's take a little poetic license, live Life on the edge and be done with it but hey, maybe you want to add to my list of crappy things I've done today. That's cool. The list is growing longer by the minute.
Back to our story. By oppression I mean he is completely disheartened and downtrodden by my insane insistence that he stop trying to argue with his 6-year old, mildly Autistic sister as he does with his peers and me. He thinks those last two terms are synonymous but that's part of that reality crushing gig I have going right now. It's a work in progress. Teddy actually thinks that it's reasonable for him to tell his sister to "Stop being a slacker" and "hang up more clothes on the line" even though he is 1. A good foot taller than her and she can't reach the line like he can and 2. Because of her glasses she can't see as well as he can, certainly not rows and rows of thin clothes line and 3. He needs to hang up the damn clothes too. For me to actually insist on telling the both of them to knock it off and hang up the damn clothes before I find more chores for BOTH of them to do is blatant favoritism towards his cunning sister and an obvious attempt on my part to extract free slave labor from his sensitive hands.
If that isn't enough I had the gall to suggest that if he slammed one more thing or rolled his eyes or flipped up his shoulders I would keep finding chores for him to do. The Hell never ends. Then dear God, I did it. I ACTUALLY saw him answer yes when I asked, "Is anyone still planning on being crappy to each other?" and I sent him outside to sweep the leaves off of the steps . Then, the bitch I am, I went outside and declared publicly, where everyone in the world could hear the shame, that he continued with this crap that was fine with me I'll find chores for him to do all damn day so we didn't have to be around each other.
What.the.Hell.is.going.on.here? Truly it is a world gone mad. Hmmm, that's actually what BOTH Teddy and I keep saying.
What I find most amusing and no, there isn't a lot, is that what I'm doing isn't really that different. I've always been an pain in the kids' asses....collectively speaking. I have always expected certain things and come crushing down down like the fist of God when the expectations haven't been met. Hello? Is he new? When have I EVER let him get away with being an ass to me? I'm the mom who tore him a new asshole in front of half the school when he was 7 and he tried to run away from me and make me chase him down the street. I destroyed his soul that day, I did it publicly and I was happy to do it. About 6 months ago I overheard a friend of his ask him why he didn't have Minecraft yet. Teddy replied that I had said no. The friend said, "Just keep asking her, she'll cave" - yes he did. He really said that. I heard Teddy snort and whisper, "Are you crazy, you know what she's like" and yes, I AM LIKE THAT. Nag me for crap I've already said no to? I'll get it for everyone else in the family BUT you. I'm the one one who just a few weeks ago froze his computer, xbox and tv privileges and laughed at him while I did it.
However now, doing the exact same things has given him the authority to think me even more monstrous, more evil. OK...well...I'm afraid Teddy, my darling Love that it is you or me and I chose me. See, if I don't spend the next few years being the enemy from Hell for you I'm afraid that you are going to turn into the arrogant, megalomaniac, snot-nosed, "The World Owes Me" and "all should kneel before Zod" type of jerk that no normal person can stand. I can't handle a lifetime of that.Apparently we get to have you back in a few years. I've heard several moms say the kid you have as a child returns as an adult if you can survive the teen years.
7 1/2 more years to go. Until then my darling, ask not for whom the bitch tolls, the bitch tolls for thee.
I wonder if John Donne was a bad parent too...
Words Matter
There has been quite a brouhaha the last few days about Rush Limbaugh and his decision to label a woman asking for insurance coverage for a friend a "slut" - among a few choice adjectives.
Limbaugh, being the seasoned attention whore that he is has had his name googled more times in the last 3 days than he he did when he admitted his addiction to drugs and removal from ESPN.
I think it's time to take America back from this cretin.
If you feel the same way please scroll down and view the list of his sponsors. Write, call or email as many as you can and inform them because of their support of this man you will not only not be a customer of theirs, you will work to encourage others not to use their services as well.
Hurt what he truly cares about; his wallet.
Quicken Loans - confirmed sponsor
1050 Woodward Avenue
Detroit, MI 48226
Client Relations - (800) 863-4332
and: (800) 251-9080
also: you can chat online
Century 21 Real Estate LLC - confirmed sponsor
International Headquarters
1 Campus Drive
Parsippany, NJ 07054
Web contact form
ProFlowers
Email
Web contact form
Sales or Service: 1-800-580-2913
Phone: 800.580.2913
eharmony
300 N. Lake Ave., Suite 1111
Pasadena, CA 91101
media@eharmony.com
Web contact form
Email
626.795.4814
FAX 626.585.4040
CARBONITE, Inc.
617-587-1100
177 Huntington Avenue, Boston, MA 02115
carbonite@mailnj.custhelp.com
Direct Dial Office: 617-587-1100 EXT:1115
Sleep Number Bed
Select Comfort Corporation - confirmed and long-time advertiser
6105 Trenton Lane N
Minneapolis, MN 55442
Phone: 763-551-7000
Fax: 763-551-7826
800-438-2233
investorrelations@selectcomfort.com
Oreck Upright Vacuum Cleaners
Oreck Corporation
100 Plantation Road
New Orleans, Louisiana 70123
Online contact form
800-289-5888
Mid-West Life Insurance Company of Tennessee
9151 Grapevine Hwy.
North Richland Hills, TX 76180
Phone (800) 733-1110
(web banner ads on rushlimbaugh.com)
AutoZone Inc.
901-495-7185; Fax: 901-495-8374
P.O. Box 2198, Memphis, TN 38101
investor.relations@autozone.com
LegalZoom.com - confirmed and long-time advertiser
800-773-0888; Fax: 323-962-8300
Site has a Web Form
Citrix Online (GoToMyPC)
6500 Hollister Avenue, Goleta, CA 93117
Phone: 805-690-6400; Fax: 805-690-6471
info@citrixonline.com
American Forces Network
Contact Us: @MyAFN.net
Mission Pharmacal Company
10999 IH-10 West Suite 1000
P.O. Box 786099
San Antonio, TX 78278-6099
Telephone: (800) 531-3333
Bennett Kennedy - Citracal Product Manager
Life Quotes, Inc.
32045 Castle Court
Evergreen, CO 80439
1-800-670-5433
info@lifequotes.com.au
If you know of any other Limbaugh advertisers who should be on our list, you can send them to us. If we can't shut him up at least we can try and make his life less comfortable than it is now.
These companies were once on our list of Limbaugh advertisers but were removed when they stopped advertising on this program and/or for other valid reasons. You can view our list of former advertisers who were removed.
------------------
Employers and other information you might find helpful:
Clear Channel Communications (parent company of Premiere Radio Networks, Inc.) 200 Basse Road San Antonio TX 78209 Phone 1-210-822-2828
Lowry Mays, Chairman and Chief Executive Officer
LLowryMays@clearchannel.com
Mark Mays President and Chief Operating Officer
MarkPMays@clearchannel.com
Randall Mays, Executive Vice President and Chief Financial Officer RandallTMays@clearchannel.com
Lisa Dollinger, Senior Vice President, Corporate Communication Public Relations lisacdollinger@clearchannel.com
pr@clearchannel.com
International Email
Advantage Website
www.clearchanneladvantage.com
Email - Lori Wellinghoff
Phone 1-REACH-OUT-70 (1-732-246-8870)
Radio Station Listing
Phone 1-210-822-2828
Premiere Radio Networks, Inc. (Rush's immediate employer)
15260 Ventura Blvd. 5th Floor
Sherman Oaks CA 91403
Kraig Kitchin http://www.premrad.com/
Members of the press, please contact: Amir Forester, 818-461-5404 aforester@premiereradio.com
Main: (818)377-5300 Fax: (818)377-5333 Toll Free: (800)533-8686
Citadel Broadcasting Providence WPRO (airs his show) 1502 Wampanoag Trail East Providence, RI 02915 Business Phone: 401-433-4200 no website contacts found
List of stations that air him
------------------
Contact Information:
Show Call-in Number 1-800-282-2882
Show Fax Number 1-212-563-9166
If you would like to contact Limbaugh at his PRIVATE email addresses, you might do so on AOL/Compuserve at: 70277.2502@compuserve.com or rhl@eibnet.com or rprivate@eibnet.com
Rush's public email address is: rush@eibnet.com
"Show your Support to Rush's Sponsors" - of course our viewers will want to do just the opposite
Limbaugh, being the seasoned attention whore that he is has had his name googled more times in the last 3 days than he he did when he admitted his addiction to drugs and removal from ESPN.
I think it's time to take America back from this cretin.
If you feel the same way please scroll down and view the list of his sponsors. Write, call or email as many as you can and inform them because of their support of this man you will not only not be a customer of theirs, you will work to encourage others not to use their services as well.
Hurt what he truly cares about; his wallet.
Quicken Loans - confirmed sponsor
1050 Woodward Avenue
Detroit, MI 48226
Client Relations - (800) 863-4332
and: (800) 251-9080
also: you can chat online
Century 21 Real Estate LLC - confirmed sponsor
International Headquarters
1 Campus Drive
Parsippany, NJ 07054
Web contact form
ProFlowers
Web contact form
Sales or Service: 1-800-580-2913
Phone: 800.580.2913
eharmony
300 N. Lake Ave., Suite 1111
Pasadena, CA 91101
media@eharmony.com
Web contact form
626.795.4814
FAX 626.585.4040
CARBONITE, Inc.
617-587-1100
177 Huntington Avenue, Boston, MA 02115
carbonite@mailnj.custhelp.com
Direct Dial Office: 617-587-1100 EXT:1115
Sleep Number Bed
Select Comfort Corporation - confirmed and long-time advertiser
6105 Trenton Lane N
Minneapolis, MN 55442
Phone: 763-551-7000
Fax: 763-551-7826
800-438-2233
investorrelations@selectcomfort.com
Oreck Upright Vacuum Cleaners
Oreck Corporation
100 Plantation Road
New Orleans, Louisiana 70123
Online contact form
800-289-5888
Mid-West Life Insurance Company of Tennessee
9151 Grapevine Hwy.
North Richland Hills, TX 76180
Phone (800) 733-1110
(web banner ads on rushlimbaugh.com)
AutoZone Inc.
901-495-7185; Fax: 901-495-8374
P.O. Box 2198, Memphis, TN 38101
investor.relations@autozone.com
LegalZoom.com - confirmed and long-time advertiser
800-773-0888; Fax: 323-962-8300
Site has a Web Form
Citrix Online (GoToMyPC)
6500 Hollister Avenue, Goleta, CA 93117
Phone: 805-690-6400; Fax: 805-690-6471
info@citrixonline.com
American Forces Network
Contact Us: @MyAFN.net
Mission Pharmacal Company
10999 IH-10 West Suite 1000
P.O. Box 786099
San Antonio, TX 78278-6099
Telephone: (800) 531-3333
Bennett Kennedy - Citracal Product Manager
Life Quotes, Inc.
32045 Castle Court
Evergreen, CO 80439
1-800-670-5433
info@lifequotes.com.au
If you know of any other Limbaugh advertisers who should be on our list, you can send them to us. If we can't shut him up at least we can try and make his life less comfortable than it is now.
These companies were once on our list of Limbaugh advertisers but were removed when they stopped advertising on this program and/or for other valid reasons. You can view our list of former advertisers who were removed.
------------------
Employers and other information you might find helpful:
Clear Channel Communications (parent company of Premiere Radio Networks, Inc.) 200 Basse Road San Antonio TX 78209 Phone 1-210-822-2828
Lowry Mays, Chairman and Chief Executive Officer
LLowryMays@clearchannel.com
Mark Mays President and Chief Operating Officer
MarkPMays@clearchannel.com
Randall Mays, Executive Vice President and Chief Financial Officer RandallTMays@clearchannel.com
Lisa Dollinger, Senior Vice President, Corporate Communication Public Relations lisacdollinger@clearchannel.com
pr@clearchannel.com
International Email
Advantage Website
www.clearchanneladvantage.com
Email - Lori Wellinghoff
Phone 1-REACH-OUT-70 (1-732-246-8870)
Radio Station Listing
Phone 1-210-822-2828
Premiere Radio Networks, Inc. (Rush's immediate employer)
15260 Ventura Blvd. 5th Floor
Sherman Oaks CA 91403
Kraig Kitchin http://www.premrad.com/
Members of the press, please contact: Amir Forester, 818-461-5404 aforester@premiereradio.com
Main: (818)377-5300 Fax: (818)377-5333 Toll Free: (800)533-8686
Citadel Broadcasting Providence WPRO (airs his show) 1502 Wampanoag Trail East Providence, RI 02915 Business Phone: 401-433-4200 no website contacts found
List of stations that air him
------------------
Contact Information:
Show Call-in Number 1-800-282-2882
Show Fax Number 1-212-563-9166
If you would like to contact Limbaugh at his PRIVATE email addresses, you might do so on AOL/Compuserve at: 70277.2502@compuserve.com or rhl@eibnet.com or rprivate@eibnet.com
Rush's public email address is: rush@eibnet.com
"Show your Support to Rush's Sponsors" - of course our viewers will want to do just the opposite
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