Wednesday, September 25, 2013

I'm Still Counting

Anyone who has ever flown into a rage and said something inappropriate has been counciled by some well-meaning do-gooder to "just relax and count to ten"  The idea being that by stopping and distancing yourself from the immediate situation you have enough time to cool off and organize your thoughts.  Thus allowing your brain to release enough of the anger and give yourself a chance to say something more positive and less likely to cause permanent damage.

As a mother you learn to do this counting break quite early.  I think Teddy was 9 months old and trying to pull everything off the coffee table when I started counting as a way from killing everyone around me.  Now that I have three kids, pretty much my entire awake life is broken up into small, yet manageable 10 second intervals.

Unfortunately, sometimes counting to ten isn't enough.  Sometimes your brain gets jabbed in the eye enough in too short of a time period that counting to ten simply isn't enough time to remember any reason not kill everyone around you in a 15 foot radius.

Those moments are called School Holidays.

I dragged my kids out to the shops this morning not because I wanted to, no...but because I was asked to. Young Master Thadeus needed to pre-order one of his new spiffy games and since he needed parental permission for it (Don't judge...I don't authorize every game he asks for.  But this game lets him kill 18th Century English and I'm pretty cool with that)  I decided to bite the bullet and turn this errand to my advantage and get some needed chores done.

After cementing my name in the I'M A BAD MOTHER AND LET MY POOR IMPRESSIONABLE CHILD PLAY HORRIBLE DANGEROUS VIDEO GAMES wall of fame we marched down to Target to buy new thongs for the girls.

Yes, I said thongs.  Americans, I haven't lost my mind completely - thongs are what we call flip flops.  I've learned not to openly flinch when I say I'm buying my daughters thongs.  However I will go to my grave cringing when Teddy tells me he's run out of rubbers.  Sure, I know now he means erasers but there is just something so wrong about it that I can't cover up my horror.  In the interest of assimilating with the culture as much as I can, I try to roll with it.

After the fashion parade and the game of, "Which thongs best match my eyes?" we headed out of shoes and somehow Connor got onto the topic of Horus the Egyptian God.  That's not suprising.  Obscure, random topics of conversation are the norm in our family.  No, the issue here was that Connor was lamenting that her friend Ellen having difficulty remembering how to pronounce the name Horus.  Tessi was shocked and amazed to learn that anyone in Year Four had any such problems and casually responded with, "Wow, she can't say whores?!"

If you have ever met Tessi you know that her casual response actually is more of a scream registered at a high decibel. She is the smallest person in our family yet her lungs and feet can make more noise than a heard of stoned elephants.  Her reply came out more like, "  WOW!!!!!!  SHE CAN'T SAY W..H..O..R..E..S!!!!!??"

All attempts to get her to quiet down and understand that whores was actually Horus fell on deaf ears.  "Yes, WHORES!  I know.  That's what I said!  Stop correcting me.  Why can't you understand me?!"  All at the top of her lungs.  What was almost as loud as her whore-call was the sound of Teddy laughing.  I simply walked away saying out loud, "This is Ted Tencza's sister"   Teddy was laughing too hard to be horrified at being outed like that.

I paid for the shoes and left as quickly as possible.  Again, stupidly trying to be nice I offered them Morning Tea at the doughnut place.  $26 for 4 damn donuts, 3 juices and 1 Diet Coke.  Gee....why DON'T we go out more often?  It's a mystery.  Still we were out and the $2 store was right there and I need to start collecting goodies for the annual Tencza Bring the Word of Halloween to Australia party. Mustering up my courage, I herded them over and we began looking at the trinkets for sale.

Bloody Hell.  I know better.  I've had kids for thirteen years and I know that taking all three of them out to a store that none of them are interested in is a recipe for disaster.  But no, I just had to keep pushing my luck. I chalk it up to Beginning of the School Holidays arrogance or sheer mental block of the LAST school holidays.

I mention to my hoarde that I need witches hats and send them looking for and of course, none could be found.  That's because my kids aren't interested in witches hats.  Connor attempted to sucker me into buying her a wig so she can have long straight red hair instead of her long straight brown hair for Halloween.  Tessi wanted to see the stuffed, hissing cat I was holding so she kept trying to rip it out of my hand.  Teddy?  Teddy had ordered his game 30 minutes ago and he was done.  All he wanted was to get the Hell out of the shops before someone from school saw him standing with this hot mess we call a family.  Me?  I just wanted some black card stock, a few witches hats and some spider webbing...maybe an adorable little zombie mask.  Really, it wasn't that much to ask for.

By the time I was feeling the twitch start in my left eye I knew it was past time to leave.  I told Connor to live with brown hair,  Tessi if she didn't stop trying to yank things out of my hands I would shave her Barbie dolls heads and I informed Teddy that I could quite easily post a picture my little Teddy swoogums to HIS Facebook page.  Then I stormed to the counter to pay for the items and of course....find the damn witch hats as we walk out of the store and we head up the travelator to get to the parking garage. 

Climbing off of the travelator Connor mentions to me that this was the wrong travelator and we are not parked in this section.  She knew that as we were getting on the travelator but it didn't seem like a big deal to her.  We bob and weave through the parked cars trying to get to the right section for the car and as we ruck up to it (parked right NEXT to the correct travelator I might add) I noticed that neither girl is holding the pair of thongs I bought them.

Me:  Where are your shoes?

Connor: Shoes?

Me: Yes, shoes.  Where are the shoes I just bought you both?

Connor:  You mean the thongs?

Me:  (pause...blink..blink..pause) FINE...the thongs.  Where are the thongs that I just bought you?

Tessi:  Oh, I don't have mine.

Me: Yes, I can see that.  WHERE ARE THEY?

Connor and Tessi together:  I think they're back at Donut King.

That's when I started counting to ten.  I began counting because I knew that if I didn't, that I was going to say something so obscene, foul and so cruel the police would have the authority to shoot me on site. Of course, I think I would have welcomed death at that moment.  Something in my face - maybe it was my lips making the counting shapes, I'm not sure, but something made everyone stop and then quietly move in unison back towards the travelator.

Mid-death march I added sound to my counting as a way of reinforcement.  I was at 47 by the time we made it back inside the shops. 59 before we were back to Donut King and found the shoes.  I lost my place at 78 as we got halfway up the ramp because Tessi tripped on my feet so I started over at 70.  I was able to point and mouth MOVE by about 95 and was at 110 when we got into the car.  At 117 I was finally able to string a sentence together without the words God, damn, kidding, and a few other rather choice words on my go-to swear list. 

I was able to state rather politely that no one was ever ask me to do anything nice for them...ever again. I really made an impression upon them as well because it was a good solid hour before anyone asked me for something. That's about two lifetimes in kids time. Almost enough time for me to count to ten....to the google power.







Friday, September 20, 2013

Internationally Recognized Blog Here

My family had been living in Australia about one year when my son rather spectacularly broke his arm. In case you have limited experience with broken bones, allow me to share with you my hard-earned knowledge.  You should be aware that no trip to the ER ends well with the X-ray tech asking you if your child usually has an elbow.  Another hospital and emergency surgery later we were left reeling with an injured child, two frazzled parents and two younger sisters confused and unable to understand what was happening.

I had a few friends but no family to help us. We had one car and two parents going in two different directions. Worst of all my son was in pain. That alone was enough to turn me into a raging lunatic. It was one of the lowest points of my life. I could see how we were going to get through it.

To keep overseas family and friends updated on Teddy's condition I started a blog. I came up with what I thought was a very witty and clever title. I felt it needed to quickly reveal what my life was or at least what I felt that my life was like.  We had moved around the planet to an incredible country that while it was extraordinary....it was difficult to fit in.  Most days I felt like Mona Lisa Vito trying to blend in while in Alabama.  I stuck out like a sore thumb with my accent tattooed on my tongue.

Every day revealed a new adventure; not always a good one. I was barely treading water down here. On a bad day the water was up to my eyes. On a good day... well, let's just say that at that particular point, even on a good day I was knee deep in it.

So that's how Knee Deep in Down Under was born.

It has quite simply worked for me.  I blogged about dealing with the Aussie health care system and it helped me handle my fear and anger. I was so frightened, so very frightened all the time but I couldn't admit it. "I feel like throwing up every time I drive on the left side of the road"  and "Stop asking me why President Bush does those whacko things, I didn't vote for him!" really aren't welcome in polite conversation.  However I could write about it. I could say the awful, horrible thoughts that crept into my head during the day in my writing and it helped...well not preserve my sanity, that ship has long since sailed, but at least give me a lifetime to hold onto.

I'm giving you this little historical perspective because today I got some great news.  Today I received an email from the Circle of Moms website congratulating me for placing 2nd place on their Top 25 Aussie Mom Blogs of 2013.

Me. The neurotic girl from Jersey who was always too afraid  to try new things and who has a simply masterful gift for pissing people off;  had won a place on a list of real bloggers.

I can not describe what this means to me. I'm sure I've used up a years worth of good luck in one day but I do not care.

I've read lately that some of the more distinguished Aussie bloggers deliberately stayed away from this contest because real writers don't need silly contests to confirm their worth.  Only the blogger can be the true judge of her words. That may all be very true. However I for one,  am one very proud and happy lady today. I have a validation of my work that only comes from outside approval and it feels great.
Since I was a little girl every March I would practice into my thumb, my Academy Award Winning speech. This is no Acadamy Award but let's be honest; it as close as I'm getting. Also, this is my bloody blog I'm going to give it and the orchestra can't do a thing about it.

Thank you friends and family for reading my rantings and ravings. You did so without being annoyed when you figured out that I had written about you. Thank you for reading and voting when I know you had better things to do. I owe you a solid and I won't forget that.

Thank you American University Phi Mu Fraternity for Women Sisters Alumni who read my blog, voted for and shamelessly encouraged their friends to vote. Ladies, I am proud and honored to have bought your friendship all those years ago. Love in Our Bond.

Thank you total strangers who have stumbled across my rantings and found something amusing about it.

Thank you Orchard Marketing employees who helped a new co-worker find her feet in an office after 13 years and didn't bat an eye when asked to vote. I am thrilled to be a part of the team.

Thank you Madison Central High School Class of 1988 who surprised me by their willingness to vote. More surprising is the number of people who have reached out and re-connected with me after all these years. I was quite shocked at the number of you who actually remember me as I wasn't the friendliest of people back then...or now.  You humble me with your abilities to mature and not dwell on the pain of high school and concentrate on grownup friendships.

Thank you Ted. There are no words strong enough to describe what you have meant to me. I love you.

Tomorrow I will back in groove of laundry, school holidays, cricket, Little A's and 7 thirteen year old boys here for a birthday party sleepover. Yep, that should be enough to knock me back into reality.

Today though, I'm an internationally (two countries means international! I can claim that!) recognized blogger. I'm going to enjoy that.

Thank you to everyone who has made that possible!

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

The Boy Who Lived

 Well he did it.  The boy made it to his 13th birthday.  I can honestly say there were days I knew he wasn't going to get there.  It's been a rough 12 but despite the insanity, my son is one of the coolest people I know.  He is twice the smart ass I could ever be and trust me...that is saying something.  He gets faster every day at smart ass comebacks and he has a wonderfully twisted sense of humor. He's fantastic with kids he's not related to so those of you looking to hire a baby sitter, look no further! 

Most of my reading audience knows that the last few days have been a bit rough for our family with some nasty illness and coming to within a few hours of losing our dog to tick poisoning.  I haven't slept correctly in days so a long drawn out post will not go well for anyone.  Instead of a huge story about my bouncing baby boy I will give you some pictures of his life. This should guarantee just enough humiliation to preserve his street cred as a poor, downtrodden teen.  Happy to help, Kid. I think now we are square for you putting dead batteries back in the battery box and possibly you and Will putting Byron's shirt up on the roof.  


Happy Birthday Teddy....now Ted.  You're the beginning of why I get to be called Evil Troll Mom.  Without you, I'd just be Evil Troll.  I know you don't believe it anymore, but I do love you. Other than the trash hoarding in your room I wouldn't change anything about you at all.


Feeding the deer at Fort Sam Houston Quad

Sage advise from a Kindy.


That shirt grew less & less funny

First time in Vegas

First day of school in a new country




This is what you do when it's too hot to go outside

Trying to get a nice family Xmas picture




First Man of the Match

Earning his Yellow Belt


Taking Flat Stanley to Waratahs



First Birthday party

Taken to prove to future 16 year old self that he did like to work once.

Forget the rides, the water was best part of theme park.

First dentist visit

Last Easter as an only child









Captain Pouty Face


Demonstrating the hold the binky (dummy) technique

Early Diving Career




Posing at Disney World

Opening the door for Grandma



He LOVED his 18 wheeler game at Chuck E. Cheese.

His Jeep. Nuff said.



Only in TX is acceptable to keep playscape inside

Rock Climbing at Band Camp


NOTHING is funnier than your dog wearing sunglasses


She won't stop taking my picture!

Learning that cricket isn't just a bug


He stopped smiling after learning he wasn't allowed to hold an adult salt water croc

Why won't she stop touching me?!







Finally, here he is. Thirteen getting ready to take on the world.



The Boy Who Lived

 Well he did it.  The boy made it to his 13th birthday.  I can honestly say there were days I knew he wasn't going to get there.  It's been a rough 12 but despite the insanity, my son is one of the coolest people I know.  He is twice the smart ass I could ever be and trust me...that is saying something.  He gets faster every day at smart ass comebacks and he has a wonderfully twisted sense of humor. He's fantastic with kids he's not related to so those of you looking to hire a baby sitter, look no further! 

Most of my reading audience knows that the last few days have been a bit rough for our family with some nasty illness and coming to within a few hours of losing our dog to tick poisoning.  I haven't slept correctly in days so a long drawn out post will not go well for anyone.  Instead of a huge story about my bouncing baby boy I will give you some pictures of his life. This should guarantee just enough humiliation to preserve his street cred as a poor, downtrodden teen.  Happy to help, Kid. I think now we are square for you putting dead batteries back in the battery box and possibly you and Will putting Byron's shirt up on the roof.  


Happy Birthday Teddy....now Ted.  You're the beginning of why I get to be called Evil Troll Mom.  Without you, I'd just be Evil Troll.  I know you don't believe it anymore, but I do love you. Other than the trash hoarding in your room I wouldn't change anything about you at all.


Feeding the deer at Fort Sam Houston Quad

Sage advise from a Kindy.


That shirt grew less & less funny

First time in Vegas

First day of school in a new country




This is what you do when it's too hot to go outside

Trying to get a nice family Xmas picture




First Man of the Match

Earning his Yellow Belt


Taking Flat Stanley to Waratahs



First Birthday party

Taken to prove to future 16 year old self that he did like to work once.

Forget the rides, the water was best part of theme park.

First dentist visit

Last Easter as an only child









Captain Pouty Face


Demonstrating the hold the binky (dummy) technique

Early Diving Career




Posing at Disney World

Opening the door for Grandma



He LOVED his 18 wheeler game at Chuck E. Cheese.

His Jeep. Nuff said.



Only in TX is acceptable to keep playscape inside

Rock Climbing at Band Camp


NOTHING is funnier than your dog wearing sunglasses


She won't stop taking my picture!

Learning that cricket isn't just a bug


He stopped smiling after learning he wasn't allowed to hold an adult salt water croc

Why won't she stop touching me?!







Finally, here he is. Thirteen getting ready to take on the world.