Friday, April 30, 2010

what exactly is poor...is it all about the money?

I mentioned in my last post that I recently watched Slumdog Millionaire…again, great movie, must watch. The issue with the gagging was minor. I watched the movie in total amazement of the strength and courage of this boy. As I watched the movie, my middle son Peanut came in to watch it with me. Jelly and dad were watching some stupid sci-fi something or other that did not interest him or me. Peanut is my sensitive child and since the beginning of the movie the “poor”ness of this boy bothered me somewhat and I was not sure how it would affect him. This movie has sparked many a conversation in my home over the last week and with that in mind I tell you a little story.


I have a degree in Elementary Education. Even though my career choice right now does not use the degree in any way, I have teaching in my blood. I have tutored children on a private basis for the past 26 years. This is something that I have always enjoyed doing so it is very important to me that I continue.

I tutor math. All sorts of math. I have had high school students that I have tutored in Algebra 1, Algebra 2, Geometry, Statistics, and Trigonometry. I have had two adults that I have tutored that were/are taking College Math after being out of school for over 20 or 30 years. Now, I am tutoring a 6th grade boy. He is really having a hard time with math.

I won’t get into the logistics of what he knows and doesn’t know but it has occurred to me over the last 5 or 6 weeks that I am having a hard time with this student. Oh, don’t get me wrong, he is a sweetie. The smile that this kid gives me every time I give him encouragement is just heart melting.

It is the financial situation and the attention lacking that is getting to me.

Poor. What is poor? I thought I knew until I watched Slumdog. This made me have a whole NEW prospective on what poor is. We had some really hard times a few years back. My husband was sick and out of work for 3 months with only his short term disability for income coming into the house ($175 per week). Up until 3 years ago, we were a family of 5 living on an annual household income of $37,000. We made ends meet and we recycled and took hand me downs. But we always had a roof over our head and a warm meal in our belly.

I charge $35 per hour for my tutoring. That is a meal for a larger family. I would have thought that this mother would have been put off by the price of my sessions if she could not afford it; instead, she is willing to make sacrifices for the betterment of her son.

This little boy is 1 of 5 children in the house. He has 3 older sisters and 1 younger sister. The living arrangement is all 7 people in a 2 bedroom apartment. Yes, you heard me, and if I were to guestamate the size of the apartment, I would have to say it is about 600 sq ft. That aint too big. Let’s think about the size of your house and imagine your family living in a house that size. I complain about the size of our camp in the summer being as it is very small but there are also only 5 of us and we spend the majority of the time outside.

I am experiencing a catholic guilt that I have not experienced in quite some time. This little boy is sleeping in the same room with 5 sisters. UGH! I remember sharing a room with my brothers but then again they were only infants at the time.

I assign homework to this guy on a regular basis. He has never had the completed work. Every week it is another excuse, “I left it at my dads”, “my sister must have thrown it away”, “I thought it was right here”, “I think that it is in my mom’s car”, or my favorite one, “I was doing it on the bus ride home today and the bus driver took it away from me”.

(side note…his bus driver is my cousin, his mom also drives a school bus, that is how I got the job)

Two weeks ago, I decided to sit with mom and talk about the progress. X is doing great, his multiplication tables are getting much better, his adding and his subtracting is improving so much that he rarely uses his fingers, and his confidence is improving drastically. However, I am concerned about the homework that I give him.

Mom decided to tell me what she thought the problem was…”X is never home, by the time I get him from his bus, and then we get in the car to come home, he has been here for 10 minutes before you show up and he just doesn’t have the time.” And then the next comment floored me…”And truth be told I don’t have time for him either. He is a lot of work and my girls do so much better without my being on them, I just wish he could be the same way.”

My heart sank. This time I spend with him every week is X-time. It is the only time he gets attention. I feel guilty taking mom’s money but I feel more guilty about not continuing as it is the only time this little boy is recognized for being him.

Okay, so as to not upset those readers who hate long blog posts…he he he…yah, right, I will get to my second point.

Getting back to the Slumdog reference. Love, cherish and enjoy the time you spend with your loved ones. You don’t know how long you will have them around. Money doesn’t buy you time or love. I tell my children how much I love and cherish them on a regular basis and CLEAN YOUR BATHROOM.

I needed to go tinkle while tutoring the other night. I purposely avoid using my client’s bathrooms. It is a little quirk I have. But this time I could not go home with a ½ hour ride with out going. I wish I could have. I had all I could do to keep my lunch in my stomach. There was toothpaste all over the sink, used toothpaste I might add, on the faucet, on the spickets and all over the bowl. There was urine and feces all over the toilet. I mean like dripping down the sides and stuff, ICK! And there were plenty of feminine products flowing out of the trash.

I know poor, I also know filth. Being poor does not automatically come with being dirty. Even Slumdogs mother had him shower.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Bulimic? Not at this weight.

Let me tell you a little secret. If I wanted to, I could easily become a bulimic. I know that sound kind of morbid but I have the most unbelievably crazy gag reflex. I think it is hereditary but not really sure. My dad would gag on cue with poop, puke and gross looking things. My brothers suffer from pretty much the same problem. While telling a story last weekend, my two SILs asked me if I suffered from the gagging reflex that my brothers suffer from and I had to admit I did. I don’t suffer as bad as them; I could at least change my own children’s diapers. Don’t ask me to change someone else’s kids diaper though because that becomes an instant gag. Oh, it is necessary to let you know that this gagging does not come quietly either. It is an all out “HUE-IT!”


When I was younger, my older brothers knew how weak I was when it came to the “gag”. They also knew what set me off. They would drum up the largest lougie that they could possibly fester and spit it in the direction in which I was walking, just to see me gag and then puke.

This horrific problem that I have has not gotten any better. Over the course of the last few years, it has become a teasing factor in my household as well. Last year topped the cake when we took the kids out for dinner one night and as we exited the restaurant I noticed something on my car. At first I though it was a rolled up piece of paper…kind of like a receipt. As I touched it to remove it I realized in was a dirty tissue. YUCK, what kind of sick bastard would put their dirty tissue on someone’s car? I don’t know, but needless to say after 2 straight minutes of gagging and being teased by my boys and husband, I lost my entire dinner right there in the parking lot.

Well, let me tell you why I bring up this back story. Recently, I saw two movies with my children. The first one was Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Butter had asked for nothing but these books for Christmas and being the mother who likes to see her kids take an interest in reading, he received them ALL. So when the movie was going to be released, I promised to take him to see it. Besides the fact that we brought my mother and she was grossed out at the movie Shrek, this was one of the most disgusting movies I have seen in a long time. Have you seen it? I laughed my tushy off during a good portion of the movie but there were quite a few scenes that had me gagging and hiding my face.

The second movie that I saw was just this past weekend. Peanut and I got hooked into Slum dog Millionaire. Great movie! Really great movie. However, the during the first question explanation, I could not stop gagging. I mean this was a good 2-3 minutes of the movie that I had to get through in order to enjoy the rest of it. I was teased about that one too. Can you imagine if you were standing in that group what you would have done? I would have lost lunch and dinner right there if I were there in person.

I know this kind of comes out of the blue but believe me…a got another story for tomorrow that this background information will be helpful to know.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

I am tired...and hence

Have I ever told you how I gave up negativity for lent a few years back? Okay, if I did, I am sorry to repeat the story line. If I didn’t well, I gave up negativity for lent a few years back. They say that to make something a habit you need to do it for 21 straight days. Lent is 40 days long, so it was not hard to make this a daily change.


Today, however, I am very over tired and on a very short fuse. Because of this reason, I feel the need to let it all out in my bubble. So since I am really pissed off about a few things, I am going to start by joining ZGirls Gratitude with Attitude.

Think Tank Momma


Dear Husband of Mine,

I just wanted to thank you for the hounding in the car dealership 8 months ago to get the extended warranty on your 2006 vehicle since the labor alone would cost us more than we could afford. I also wanted to thank you for the call at work yesterday informing me that you needed a repair on said vehicle that was going to cost us close to $1,000. Oh wait, there is more, I also wanted to thank you for not getting upset with the dealership when they told you that this error in their workmanship was the reason for the repair. It was not quite the way I would have handled it. You should have handed them the phone and allowed me to talk to them. Oh and btw, thank you for the mother’s day present…

Sincerely,

Your loving wife.



Dear Silverleaf Resort and Company,

I just wanted to thank you very much for the opportunity to know damn well that my job here at my company is not needed. In fact customer service in any company is not necessary anymore. I could spend the next, I don’t know, lets say 17 months saying that I was in the corporate offices and hence not my responsibility to take care of any customers problems. Because that is what I get from you people whenever you call and I tell you that the person you reached is not MY MOTHER. Oh and by the way, my frustration on the phone earlier…had nothing to do with the four previous people I had spoken to and assured me that the next person I spoke with would fix the issue. Why is it that I am speaking to someone in the corporate offices in TEXAS yet you have no idea what I am saying? Guess what pissants, I don’t follow your little typed up response sheet. I am a unique person and you need to deal with me, a customer that has an issue all my own.

Hung up on your ass with the fifth person,

Mae-rate



Dear Fellow coworkers,

I just wanted to say with most of you I can see the frustration and can relate. To the others of you, when I request a change “that only your team can do” on April 6th and am told that it needs to go to L, and then L forwards it to M, and M tells me that all changes need to be sent to E. I send the information to E. And E, when you and I discuss the changes on April 15 and you tell me that I should have it back by the end of the week, don’t bitch at me because 1 ½ weeks later I am asking when I will see it. Oh and whatever you do, don’t freakin tell me that all the changes need to go through L, because sister…I throw NOTHING away. I still have your email stating all of the above.

Sick of the freaking merry go round,

Mae-get my freaking forms to me-rae

Monday, April 26, 2010

Walking as a FAMILY

We had a little family time over the weekend and let me tell you “a little” is just about enough.


Have you had a chance to watch Parenthood yet? If not, you should. This show is the bomb. Actually, three times by three different family members yesterday, this show came up. It is my family, well half of it at any rate, and last weeks show reminded me of my dad, kinda, in a way, now that he is gone I can say, he screwed my mom financially. Don’t do this to your spouse. Be a little financially responsible.

But I totally chicken~ed on that one…back to the family.

I have spoken a lot about the brothers that I have and their spouses but rarely do I speak of the children. Today, I want to tell you a little about Rye bread.  Rye bread is my #7 brother's youngest son.

Rye bread is 4 years old. About three years ago, my #7SIL and I were at a baby shower and I could tell she was a little off. When I asked her if everything was all right she started to cry. Remember now, I hate when people cry. We stepped outside to talk. This is where she told me one of the worst parenting nightmares. There was something wrong with Rye bread. The doctors were not 100% sure but the pediatrician was talking autism.

I have my BA in education and have many years of special education background, so I sort of suspected this. I refused to say anything out loud because of past lashings I received from my SILs for “pointing out” their children’s “problems” so with this one I was very quiet.

When Rye bread was tested 2 ½ years ago, they found he indeed tested positive for autism. Out of the 12 traits of autism, Rye bread displayed all 12 traits.

#7SIL was embarrassed to tell anyone and then on top of things she thought people would judge her. Well, Rye bread is my godson and I would do anything to help them out. The Autism Center of Central Massachusetts has been a great resource for both of them. Rye has been going to preschool three days a week; he attends a therapy session twice a week at the local college and has 10 hours of ABA therapy at home. His language has exploded, and through the hard work and dedication Rye bread only displays 6.5 of the traits of autism and is able to communicate with all of us. Last year, just her family and mine participated in the fundraiser. This past year she has been less afraid to talk about it and realized that the family is more supportive than she originally thought.

Yesterday, we got together as ½ the family to support Autism Awareness and help raise money for the Autism Resourse Center of Central Massachusetts. There were two aspects of the day…first was a 5K run and the second was a 5 mile walk.

#6 and #8 ran the 5K with my #7SIL.


My husband, my children Jelly, Peanut and Butter, and myself walked the 5 mile walk for awareness. (ugh, I look like I am about to deliver a baby…)

#6 and his family walked.


#7’s oldest son walked and

#8 walked and My mom was there to route us on…she walked about 1 mile.

Back to Parenthood. This show focuses on 4 parts of the family and their families. One of the children in the family is Autistic. If you seen the show, you will know about the scene when the dad is talking to the oldest daughter about “what was going on” and “I am sorry I missed your game”…that was one discussion about Parenthood that we had yesterday. Sometimes I feel that is exactly what the “big” brother is going through, and sometimes I wonder if my brother can even see this. The focus has been mainly on Rye the last few years and I think that “big brother” needs some focus on him. I noticed him alone a lot yesterday. I mean really alone. Poor Guy.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

One of MaeRae's theories...remember it is my theory.

It has been a crazy couple of days, and for those of you who have been waiting on pins and needles to find out what happened with Peanut, well, I let him go.


It has been so hard for me to adjust to the life of a working mom and more so not to be there for my kids to beat the ever living snoogies out of them for not doing what they need to do. However, this is not my job anymore. Now it is the hubby’s job. He is failing miserably at it but trying just the same. But let me explain one of my theories in life.

Birth Order
You cannot help when or who you were born to. This is not something that comes in a prewritten form that you are able to request from early in the contract. It is kind of like French fries. Sometimes you get the soggy ones, sometimes they are a little overcooked, sometimes they are too salty and then sometimes they are flavorless. You can go to the same burger joint over and over. They have the same fry-o-lator and the little buzzer that goes off to say that they are done, but they are never the same regardless. This is true about birth order.

As you may or may not know, I come from a large family. I am the fourth (note for later-an even) of 8 children. Now 42 years later, I have three children of my own, I have 15 nieces and nephews, and as of yesterday, 1 great nephew. That is a lot of close up time with different people.

When my dad was in the hospice center the days before he passed, my mom stopped me in the hall and asked me a very simple question and before I could filter what came out my answer was said. “It is because they are odd.”

At this time I want to point out that there is one very important factor in this whole theory, and that is "that it is MINE!" So, no nasty comments - just think about it before you spew.

My brothers were driving my mother crazy. At first she thought, it was every other child, nope, that wasn’t it, then she thought it was every third child, nope, that was not it, but why was it that she was having a very difficult time with #3, #5, and #7 and that is when it came to me…it was because they are odd.

My #1 brother is, duh, #1. He does no wrong in my mother’s eyes. He is the “center candle in her manure”. (#3 quote-the first time I said it, it was “the center candle in her menorah) We all have and will need to live up to him. That being said, he cannot count in the even/odd debate. #3, well, he needs no further explanation, but if you need to go back and read about him, see you next week. He is odd. The way he goes about life and the way he remembers things are definitely odd. It sometimes seems to me that even though I grew up in the exact same house with the exact same parents and the exact same siblings, he wasn’t there; he was in some sort of a parallel universe. He remembers things completely different then the rest of us. #5 is the same way. He told me within the last few years that he could not trust my parents. My parents were horrible and always judging. Not sure who his parents were, but that is another story. #7 thinks the world is out to get him. No one likes him, according to him. Bosses, fellow employees, neighbors, the whole world is out to do him wrong. Maybe they are, maybe they are not, but for the most part, who cares.

This brings me to the #2, #4, #6, and the #8(who, by the way, falls into two categories). We are all even.

Odd children have a tendency to be alone. Not quite fit in. They have friends and significant others that they can relate to…but the relationships are usually strained. The world has a tendency to revolve around them. Kind of like an atom (like hydrogen) with an odd amount of electrons in their outer shell. They are attracted to other odds, because they need that other to complete their outer shell. Alone, they are unstable and unpredictable. With others, it depends on who they bond with as to how they react.

Even children on the other hand can fit in most places. They are not necessarily the “life of the party” but they are most often a welcome guest. Evens have a tendency to fit in. To meld to their surroundings. To become friends with most and not often have to worry. The even children have a strength about them that allows them to survive on their own, be stable like oxygen or bond with others to form water. Either way they are low maintenance. They are a go with the flow kind of crowd and what comes our way comes and we accept it. Sometimes not right away but eventually “it all evens out”.

Then there are the babies. The babies, regardless of their birth order are still the babies. The amount of baby-“ing” that happens will determine their outcome in life. If mommy or daddy smothered them and gave them everything, they grow up expecting that. If mom or dad encouraged everything they did, they grow up strong and self assured. If mom and dad did not have time for them, they grow up seeking attention. It all depends on who is cooking and running the fry-o-later.

Another little note, even though #2's are evens they are also considered "second child".  They suffer from "second child syndrome" (another theory of mine).  These are the children who do things without any care in the world to the outcome.  If he can do it, I can do it.  It doesn't matter how much older he is I can do it (or bust a bone trying).  Second children are more apt to be the ones who spend time in the ER getting stitches or fixing broken bones.  These are the children that would give away mom's favorite necklace because someone said it was pretty.

Now back to Peanut. Peanut is an even. I think that is one of the reasons the bologna that he does irritates me the way it does. I coasted. I could be so much more than what I am today, but I coasted. I want more for my #2. I know how smart he is. He tests off the charts. I know that he can be anything that he wants to be. He just needs to apply himself. If it happens well it happens. If he gets in trouble, then he gets in trouble. There is nothing that can prevent that. Even flow.  He is also a #2.  He does things without thinking at all.  There are no consequences to his actions before he acts upon them.  There are only things that happen as a result of.  Who knew what what would happen?

I believe whole heartedly that you need to be able to take someone for their word. If you cannot believe what one has to say then you cannot trust them. I don’t want my children not to trust me. The previous three weeks Peanut had not brought home the progress report. My husband and I both told him that if the progress report did not come home prior to the trip, he was not going on the trip. He stayed after school to make sure that all the teachers had signed and commented so that my husband and I could see that he brought home the progress report. He held up his part of the bargain. We should stick to ours. It was my husband who started changing the rules and telling him he was not going because of his grades. My husband tries really hard, eventually, three years from now when the next one is in middle school; he might have actually gotten it. When the kids come home from school, they do their homework, if they claim it is done, you ask to see it. If they did it at school or didn’t bring home their book, you bring them back to get it and they redo the whole thing. If in fact a kid says he did his homework, he is not going to give in to do it again. He is going to come up with the homework. This is what should be happening everyday when Peanut comes home. It doesn’t. My husband naps.

My role will be changing next week when the kids go back to school; I will become the drill master once again. I will be calling every afternoon to make sure the homework is done. If not, then it will be. If it did not come home, the hubby will be bringing him to school to get it. I will be seeing the homework every night. I will be beating the snoogies out of him once again. I AM MOTHER – HEAR ME ROAR!

Friday, April 16, 2010

I hate to ask for help but I am really in need of it.

It is finally Friday. I am really glad that this weekend is here but at the same time I am not.


I am writing in my little bubble and hoping that my little bubble friends will give me the wanted advice that I need and if not, well some that I can possibly live by.

Day 5 of a very long week. As you may or may not have read I have been dealing with Male PMS in my house all week and today has topped the barrel of tampons and tipped it right over. When I say that the proctologist will be removing my foot from Peanuts butt, I am afraid that this week there might be other things up there that may impede the extractions. So let me ask you this.

Since I have a 16 almost 17 year old that never tried to do anything wrong and I forget what it was like when my brothers were 13, I guess I need a little help.

Peanut has not been coming home after school. School lets out at 2:40 and we are less than a 10 minute walk from school. Many times, Peanut is the one we rely on to make sure that Butter does not come home to an empty house. Yes, I know that he is 9, and most kids by that age are fine, but that is not always the case. So anyway, back to Peanut. Every day my husband has had to go looking for him.  Every day he has a different story and they aren't adding up.

Monday, he informed us, during much tears (his PMS outburst) that he was in a “relationship”. Without much need to pick up my chin from the floor because I had just kicked it across the room, I asked very calmly, “with whom?” The answer meant nothing to me. But is this the reason he is not coming home?

Every week he is supposed to come home with a progress report signed by all of his teachers. This has not been coming home.

His progress report came home a few weeks ago with a 9 in English Language Arts. Yes, that is not a typo, he had a 9. Well, when the report card came home he had brought that grade up to a 42. Yippee, as a parent, I have a hard time seeing that as a good thing. As a teacher myself, I have a hard time seeing that as something to be proud of.

I am sitting here typing this story and fighting back the tears that are very difficult to hold.

How can I be so proud of him one minute and the next feel like he just kicked me in the throat? How can a little boy who has the heart of an angel look me in the face and LIE? How can I love this boy so much and yet right now not be able to even think about going home and looking at him?

Peanut was supposed to go away this weekend with Dad and Jelly on a Boy Scout trip to New York City.

~Hold on the phone is ringing~

Dad just called while I was typing up this post and told me that Peanut was not going. Dad was making him stay home.

Dad called me earlier and said that he had told Peanut if the progress report did not come home then he was not going. Peanut had just walked in the door, about an hour and ½ late with the progress report. It is not good. The homework has not been done. The teachers did not have nice things to say, and so dad is refusing to let him go. Instead he is making me keep him at home and make him do the work.

So, now the tears will not stop coming. Why? Someone help me, how do I do this and not be the bad guy in it all. One part of me agrees with Dad, he needs to be punished. The other part of me says that Dad needs to hold up his end. He brought the progress report home. Part of me says it is not fair to the Troop leader who planned this whole trip around the fact that Peanut was supposed to be there to help with the younger kids. Part of me wants to put him through the wall.

Before you go to comment, I want to make sure you know a few other things first. We have done the whole take away thing already. Peanut does not have video games anymore, they have been taken away. Peanut does not have a cell phone. Peanut does not have an iPod or anything like that. Peanut does not have any electronic games anymore; they have all been taken away over the course of the past couple of years. Peanut does not watch TV and there are no toys in the kid’s rooms. We have tried the reward system and it doesn’t seem to work either.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

#2 turns 47 today...ha ha you will always be older.

Happy Tax Day to my favorite #2 Brother.


The big guy turns 47 today, crap that is old. Not only is he turning 47 this year but he is also becoming a CRUMPA.

Let me explain. My dad’s dad was a Bumpa. Don’t judge, I am sure within the family that you have there was a little one who could not quite get the words right. Well, that was my #1 brother. #1 had a little problem saying Grandpa and so my dad’s dad became Bumpa to him. Since #1 was the oldest grandchild by at least 2 years the other children just started calling him Bumpa too. Hence the name stuck.

My dad was a grandpa, until #2’s oldest son was born. For some reason Pete could say everyone’s name except for my dad’s and so he called him Dumpa. Well, this was a riot for all of us grown ups. Dumpa was just way to funny not to let catch on and follow.

My #2 brother is a ladies man. Okay, he was before becoming the grouchiest SOB on the face of the earth. But his big line to every woman, regardless of age, rank or serial number was “you look more beautiful every time I see you.” So when he was married the second time, the entire wedding party toasted to him “You look more BEAUTIFUL every time I see you”. Seriously though, I can not tell you how many women fell for that line.

About 4 years ago a very lengthy discussion over the keg and the bonfire (only kidding, we drink from bottles) the brothers and I decided that when #2 became a grandfather his name should be Humpa. (Please be aware that this was funny to all 6 of us and not to him ).

Last month, when the whole group of “next generation hillbillies” got together, Pete announced that he thought it would be a great idea to combine #2’s first name, which I refuse to tell you (but it rhymes with pistopher) and the umpa part and make #2 a Crumpa. He loves it. I think he is coming around to the fact that he is old and decrepit, even though he is the only one of us with out grey hair, and accepting the grandfather thing too. He is telling everyone that Crumpa is his new name.

So Happy Tax Day Crumpa…I hope it is a good one for you. Chin up, we all want your fun and candor back…please find it.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

PMS stands for Pre-MEN-stral

Wednesday? Is it really Wednesday? I can not get over that today is already Wednesday. I feel like it should be Friday one minute and then I feel like the week is flying and I can’t get anything done and it is already Wednesday. Have you ever had a week like that?


I think one of the reasons that I am feeling that way lately is that I am premenstrual. I usually don’t get affected by that except for crying at coffee commercials, but this time I feel funny. I am tired and cranky and my kids are not helping.

I read somewhere once and then saw it on The Big Bang Theory the other night that boys also have hormonal imbalances as well. I strongly believe this. I have been saying for years that my husband suffers from PMS more than I do. But he is the woman in the house anyway, so that just goes without saying.

The other day, granted he was sick, Jelly cried because we were picking on him. Then Monday night at dinner, Jelly made a comment about Peanut and girls and KABANG! Peanut stood up, screamed like a little girl with her hair stuck in a bicycle spoke, and called him a naughty name while crying. “What was up with that?” I asked. I am a very strong believer that if you can’t take it, don’t dish it out. After picking on stinky breath the morning before, Peanut had no right to freak out like that. But he did and he claimed everyone “only picked on him”.

Last night, Butter came home from a scout meeting, needed to finish his chores and off to bed I sent him. He was in bed no more that 15 minutes when he got up came into the living room and asked if I remembered what a friend of mine IM-ed me the other day on Facebook, with a look of confusion, because honestly some days I cannot remember my own name, I said “no”. Well, he reminded me that Mrs. K said there were only 43 more days of school and his teacher said there were more like 50 something and then the waterworks started. Crying like a baby, that one was. Boo Hoo and alligator tears. Huge ones at that. “WHY, OH WHY, WOULD SOMEONE LIE LIKE THAT?” After showing him that his teacher was incorrect and Mrs. K was right, he went to bed sobbing.

It has been three days of tears in my house and I just hope I don’t go home to the hubby crying tonight.

Am I the only one with PMS males in my house?

Monday, April 12, 2010

Weekend, went nothing like planned

Every Friday from the morning until the last person leaves work the infamous question asked is “Got big plans for the weekend?” For me, I find this the most ridiculous question that anyone can ask a mother of children. Correct me if I am wrong, but isn’t the saying, “the best-laid plans…”


I have learned early on, like almost 17 years ago, if you have children in your life you don’t make plans that can’t be broken. That was the case this past weekend for me for sure.

Saturday morning I was supposed to go and tutor a little boy that I have been working with on Wednesday afternoons. The dad in the situation wants this little guy to get as much help as possible and so I agreed to work with him while he was at dad’s house on the weekends too. Saturday Morning, dad called me to reschedule the appointment to Sunday afternoon instead. For me, that was fine because I had no definitive plans for the day.

See, Butter turned 9 on Sunday, my baby boy. The third joy of my life happened 9 years ago and yet it seems like just yesterday. Our plans over the last few years are to allow the boys, on their birthday, choose where they would like to go to eat. With a family of 5 and usually a grand parent or two, the cost of a dinner out can really get up there. Butter requested, after I switched my plans, to skip the family dinner and go to Wally world instead. He thought it “would be better” for him if we got a present and it “certainly would be cheaper”. Who can argue with a 9 year old, who has your wallet in mind?

Anyway, back to the plans. This threw my Sunday off just a little; originally the plan was church, tutor, dinner out. Now my plans were kind of like this: Church, tutor, Wally world, grocery store (for ice cream cake), and then pizza place, grandmas for pizza and cake, and home.

Honey had different plans, his plans were, camp to put the water on, rake the yard, take a nap and then grandmas for pizza and cake.

Jelly had different plans, church, hang with BFF, and grandma’s for pizza and cake.

Peanut didn’t care just as long as he was making cash if he was “helping out” and was not left out of the pizza and cake at grandmas.

Butter wanted donuts for breakfast, church, play on the computer, spend my money, play with new toys, and then pizza and cake at grandmas.

Our Sunday went more like this…

Butter and I went to DD for the donuts and home for breakfast. We all sat at the kitchen table for breakfast. Jelly announced he wasn’t going to eat with us because he didn’t feel like eating (hint number 1). He was tired and had a little headache, but donuts weren’t something he felt like eating. When he sat next to me at the table I was nearly knocked over backwards with the odor coming from his mouth. Holy crow, this smell was DISGUSTING! I know boys smell, don’t get me wrong but this was offensive.

Being the kind and considerate mother that I am, I gagged and pointed and gagged again and told him to get his buttocks into the bathroom and brush his freaking disgusting teeth. I know, a little too gushy for most, but my kids are definitely worth it.

After breakfast, and Jelly brushing his teeth, my honey was sitting in the living room with him and told Jelly to get his arse up and in the bathroom he could smell his breath from halfway across the room away. See, honey and I truly believe that you should sugar coat the tough stuff for your kids.

As Jelly went off to the bathroom for the second time (crying I might add), I told him (who by the way is 16 almost 17), that if this was the way he was going to behave, he was not going to BFF’s house. He didn’t argue (hint number 2).

Honey took Peanut with him to go off and do the camp stuff and Jelly, Butter and I were left home to get ready. Just about ready to head out the door for church, I come into the kitchen to find this…(hint number 3)


When I got him up he ran to the bathroom and started to vomit…church cancelled. Came out of the bathroom and said he thought his throat was bleeding. When he threw up it started really hurting and so he thought he ripped the lining (hint number 4). Being the very considerate mother and caring only for the well being of my children. I made him open his mouth so that I could see where it could be bleeding. GAG, GAG, GAG, and one more for good measure, GAG. His throat was completely covered in strep.

Called the doctor, made appointment for 2:20 brought Jelly in to find, most definitely, it was strep. The doctor came into the room and said, “WOW, all you need to do is walk in the room and you can smell the strep. Poor guy, how are you feeling? ” . Good thing this is a covering doctor because I would not stand for the way she was treating my child. (sympathy, what the heck is that?).

Well, longer than this story already, trying to make it short. Jelly is now on meds for his strep, which he had no symptoms of until he vomited. Butter got his 2 new Lego sets, we had the pizza and cake with Grandma, uncle #1, uncle #8, Papa, and Gee. We had to leave Jelly at home because plans are plans and I couldn’t have everyone to my house. And we enjoyed our Sunday. Saturday, well that is a whole other story in itself.

Happy Monday Folks.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

I believe I have something to say...

I have been very surprised at the different things that come up when I open my MSN lately. What had been a joke in the beginning between a good friend and I, (you’re going to need to ask for a raise today or look out for that special someone) has been hitting me a day late. Today, I opened my internet browser to find this.


Sagittarius


November 22 - December 21


You're likely to find people somewhat irritating today, Sagittarius. It's as though nothing is good enough, and nobody seems to know exactly what he or she wants. You'll reign supreme within this maze of overt conflict and dissatisfaction. You might even be asked to step in and restore order. If the conflict is domestic, go ahead. But tread carefully if you're asked to be the sheriff at the office!

After yesterdays post (sorry for the rant), I don’t think that I will be playing sheriff at the office any time soon. In fact, I believe that the thing that will stand out is the fact that I will not be a sheriff; I am going to be the villain dressed in black.

I do feel the need to apologize for the spewing in my bubble but I also feel the need to explain a little more about said coworker.

I don’t toot my own horn very often. I don’t have a very good poker face either. I am as cut and dry as they come. What you see is what you get. If I am in a bad mood, very few people know. That is one of the reasons that I formed my bubble to begin with.

Years ago, one of the older boys was making their first communion. During the time of Lent the teacher gathered all the parents together to explain what to expect from their children during their preparation. The subject came up about giving alms during Lent. The teacher said something that to this day has resonated in my life. She suggested that during this particular Lenten season, we as a group should try to give up negativity. I took it to heart and did just that.

I walked away from people who were gossiping. I hung up quickly with those that called me on the phone to tell me their woes. I spent every day finding the best in people and going with that aspect of their personalities in order to like them. I truly gave up negativity.

Years later, I take pride in the fact that it takes A LOT to get me down. I can always find the positive in a situation. I truly believe that to say something nice is the only way to talk with someone. There are many times in my daily routine that you will hear me say “I really don’t feel as though I have a comment for that”. It is the old rule of thumb, “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

This coworker that I spoke of yesterday has said some pretty hurtful things over the course of the last year. Recently, he was heard to say (out loud) “She is full of bull and cannot be trusted. No one in real life is actually that nice. She must have an ulterior motive”.

This is the most hurtful thing that has ever been said about me. I am really this nice. I love people and truly care about them. FU Buddy. I am closing you out of my bubble. You are not allowed in here. GoodBYE!

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

WARNING!!! Some profanity used

Why is it that at my age of over 30 (and then a little more) people’s behavior still floor me sometimes? Why is it that asshats roam this world and there is no way for us to stomp on their little pissant heads? Hmmmm? Can anyone answer this question?


I left a job, last year, that my boss was out to get me. Literally, you think I joke, but I have 8 if not 10 people who will tell you the same thing. I could not take it. Working for this woman made me physically sick. But as I have said before, that is a story for another time.

Today, I have to bitch about the male biatch that sits across the hall. One that they call manager. One that I have heard the way that he talks to his employees and if I would them I would be sending him to the proctologist to remove my size 8 ½. One that had the effin ballsack to critize the way that I conduct customer service. The freaking nerve. (for reference purposes, my English teacher just cracked her back with all the partial sentences that I just wrote) BUT I AM PISSED OFF.

Let me give you a little background, I have this customer that was having a difficult time getting some paper work back from our finance department. In order for them to not loose their access the paper work needed to be completed and returned to them within a certain amount of time. I spoke with this woman on multiple occasions and also bothered the ever living crap out of the finance department. I told her over the phone that I would go up and camp out in his office until they signed it. If need be I will itch at him until he had not choice to scratch, slowly but surely until I had it in my hands. Finally, I got it back two days after they lost their access. I emailed her back and told her that I had been an itch and I got it for her. I also attached the finished form to the email. One month later the group was experiencing difficulties paying the order by wire transfer. They tried and tried and could not make it work. They emailed our customer service department requesting assistance. Which they would not help her with, they just sent it directly to me. Now the customer service manager asswipe is trying to get me in trouble for not being professional. Bastard. I want to stick my computer up his ass. He took the entire email out of context and claimed that I was saying that I was a bitch. Well if I wasn’t one before, I am one now…WATCH THE BEEP BEEP OUT!

Monday, April 5, 2010

Hunting Wabbits

What did you and your families do on Easter Sunday? Well for us it was a very interesting Easter. It all began with the trip to church. Jelly, Peanut, and the honey were all dressed in their scout uniforms to direct traffic. The original plan was to have them direct cars until 15 minutes after Mass started and then sneak in for the remainder of Mass. The plan did not go as well as planned. The boys ended up staying for the second Mass after the cars were all parked.


Why come to church if you are going to be 30 minutes late? Why even bother at that point, why not wait until the next one. So the boys were a little later than Butter and I, but that was okay. We all met back at the house and got ready for dinner at the in laws.

The honey and I have been married for almost 19 years and Easter dinner has always been the same. Ham, asparagus, corn pudding, mashed potatoes and rolls was the menu for the day.

Then the fun started. We hunted Wabbits (or soda cans with big red bull’s-eyes on them). Peanut received an air gun from Santa this year. Honey has had a few chances to buy air guns inexpensively because they needed a little work. But this is how we spent the afternoon. When I took the picture and sent it to my #8 brother, his response was Redneck Easter.

Enjoy pictures from our Redneck Easter.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Peanut makes 1st class

Since this is my second time around with all of this stuff, I suppose for most it would not be as exciting as it has been for me.


Let me fill you in on a little background…this is not a rant on my husband or a dis on my older son it is just a little busting in my bra for the “middle child”.

I have this theory on birth order. It is actually quite simple but will need more of a post than this one…but my second child, the middle boy, the 1st year teen with raging hormones, fits right into my theory, so stay tuned for that.

Peanut is a special boy. No, not special needs, or anything like that, he is just special. His heart is bigger than his brain and that is evident in just about everything that he does. He is killing me slowly and the main cause for the grey highlights that I have had grace my head. He is 13 going on…well that depends on the day. He talks back, and since I am not giving my address, I can say gets quite a few slaps across the cheeks (on both ends). Last Friday, I received an email from his history teacher, telling me that Peanut was going to fail history. He had a project due that was done with a group of other boys and they received a D. The teacher started the email with a very nice…”I thought you should be aware…”. Then proceeded to tell me that Peanut is not doing his homework again and that the boys will have until Monday to turn in all missing assignments and redo the project. This redo took 7 hours on Sunday. Good thing it was raining around here or I might have been upset about spoiling my weekend.

Peanut has a problem keeping his hands to himself. He picks at Butter. He is always whacking Jelly as he walks by. His mouth is going to get him in so much trouble that I am afraid that someone will eventually knock some teeth out. But then there is the other side of Peanut.

The side that makes me cry. The side that makes me so proud that I bust out of my chest on occasion. This is the side that makes me happy that my pants hurt my stretch marks when I eat too much chicken salad. The side that allows me to call him “son” because he is like the ‘sun”.

Peanut has a heart of gold. The love he shows and the affection that he displays could melt even the hardest of hearts. Peanut would drop anything for a friend and when it comes to being the best he can be as a person, he goes over and above that call of duty. I am constantly being told that Peanut “makes my day” by friends, family, and people that he has contact with.

My dad used to say about Peanut, “I could walk out to the end of the driveway to get the paper or the mail, be gone less then two minutes, come back in and that boy makes me feel as though I was missed the few minutes I was gone, he always waits with the best hugs ever.” My friend “J” tells me all the time, “I am not a huggy, touchy person”. We air hug when we see her, she told me “Peanut hugged me as though I was never coming back, it was a hug that touched me down deep in my heart, he can hug me again, I will allow it.”

Well enough about all of that, Peanut made 1st class scout on Tuesday night. First class scout is a tough accomplishment to reach having only been in Boy Scouts for two years. He has gone over and above what needed to be done in order to achieve this honor.

Peanut has also been granted the pin on his chest, seen in the first picture, for “being a GREAT scout and giving help and encouragement to all those he comes in contact with, he is the 'heart' of the troop”.

What mother could not brag about that…now if I could only get him to cut his hair.

Jelly (that is him in the glasses) also received an honor for being involved in scouts for the past 5 years. He has had achieved many of the same badges and levels that Peanut is achieving, but there is something different about this time around.