Life Is Too Short Not To Share...

Narcissistic Ex-Wife Self Help Book - Any takers?

2011-10-27T08:09:00.003-04:00

I think a bunch of us need to get together and write a self-help book for other women married to a man who has a narcissistic ex-wife.

Are you in?

I can't begin to tell you the number of comments I get regularly on a few of my posts dealing with my husband's ex-wife. For the record, it was not ME that defined her as a narcissist, however I HAVE created her new reference name of MS. NARCISSIST from here on out. It was my therapist of years, who also started working with my husband as well, who made us write down a specific title of a book dealing with narcissistic personality disorder. We started it, and didn't put it down until the end. It.Was.Our.Life. The next therapy session I cried. I was told that it will never go away.

They usually say the first biggest achievement in tackling life's challenges is identifying what the root cause of a problem is and becoming self-aware of it. However for me, it has only made things worse. Reason being, there is no solution or fixing someone else's behavior when it comes to narcissism - unless you can walk away and remove that person from your life. And this is the biggest solution in any book you pick up on "How to deal with a narcissist". But of course, in our case, this is not possible.

I recently got a "hate comment" regarding one of my posts naming ME as the obvious narcissist. I actually thought about it quite a bit. But truth is, I don't think that's the case. My therapist said I am simply allowing her to pull me into the competition around things I would normally NEVER CARE ABOUT. So that is what I work on - my reactions and the things only I can control.

There comes a point when you just get tired of it all. I think that's where I am right now with all the underlying BS. I will never tire of being a step-mom though. Nope. I will never get tired of that.

The Role of being a "Step-Mom" seems to be empty these days...

2011-07-21T23:02:00.004-04:00

I'm 4+ years into being a step-mom, and still don't understand my role. Does anyone have any advice? Here are my thoughts lately:

I'm a babysitter when convenient to the schedule set out. However, my role as a babysitter can obviously change in the drop of a hat if "real mom" decides she'd rather have them last minute. NOT FAIR.

I'm a disciplinarian. But no one hears me. NOT FAIR.

I'm a silent partner. Even when I see my husband trying his best, I can not verbally support him. NOT FAIR.

Someone put me in my place. Quickly.

2011-07-05T11:09:00.003-04:00

These are the things that make me miss my kids EVEN MORE while they are away this week on vacation with their Dad:

You have to appreciate a newly 9-year-old's "attempt" at making better eating choices - even thought she's absolutely perfect!

Syd and Sam: I hope you are eating ice-cream like 2 bats-out-of-hell this week at the beach. There is nothing better than sun, swimming and ice-cream every night on the boardwalk!

Missing you both desperately,

Mom xoxo

2011-06-20T14:03:00.004-04:00

I don't know how, but I came across the following picture on the internet this morning and I can't stop staring at it thinking WTF????

After hours of contemplating, I've decided it resembles one of my adorable daughters, morphed with my babysitter's french bulldog and my husband after days of not shaving.

I have lost my mind. And I have also decided I need to get a hobby.

The BEST Strategy in Dealing with a Narcissist

2011-06-07T22:21:00.005-04:00

bound·a·ry (bound-r, -dr)
n. pl. bound·a·ries

1. Something that indicates a border or limit.
2. The border or limit so indicated

Definition: The emotional and physical space that we place between ourselves and others. Setting proper boundaries is important to our mental health. When appropriate boundaries are not set, we run the risk of becoming either too detached from or too dependent upon others.

June 7, 2011:
The boundaries have been communicated. And while too many other things were attempted to be discussed, it matters none, because we have set our boundaries and we heard our own words spoken out loud.

Another Jab from my Stepsons' Narcissistic Mother

2011-03-21T11:28:00.010-04:00

Twenty six dollars, the two most adorable haircuts and a weekend of misery... what can we do to NOT get lectured, attacked and sent page-long e-mails about how disrespectful we are???

What do you do when you want to scream out and rip the eyeballs out of another human being, one that you have no choice but to have some type of relationship with for the rest of your life? Do you sit tight and ignore it all? Do you respond in a way that defends your position only to feed the fuel of the narcissist and please them with such words so they can only attack a second time?

Do you hold the anger in over and over again until it builds to the point of god knows what?

Or do you just have a quiet, honest conversation with your 7 year old step-son on a Sunday afternoon apologizing for how his Mommy who we happened to bump into at the local Target told him she didn't like his hair cut which looked "ridiculous" that we took him for... and make a deal moving forward that even though in our house he can make decisions about certain things on his own as he gets older (aka: haircut style as long as it's not a mohawk), I realize that sometimes it's important to please Mommy or Daddy in certain situations, especially at his age, and no matter when he might want to do that moving forward, all he needs to do is tell us and we'll totally understand...

'Cause any kid simply wants their parents to be pleased.

And parents, if its something as simple as a haircut being "too short" in your own mind, even though short is what he always does in warmer weather and always wants, do your kid a favor and LIE. Get a grip.

Shaggy or buzzed little Cooper JK, I really do love you and just want your heart to feel better.

Adult parents can be horrible. Kids take it all in. I used to say it's a game that is played, but I have been trying to quit participation for some time now... and yesterday is exactly why.

The Meaning of Fabric ... what I learned on the Therapist's Couch

2010-11-17T12:33:00.004-05:00

Fabric.

The term fabric is one that I became familiar with this year. Deeply familiar. It was literally one of those moments where in seconds suddenly everything made sense to me around why my life has played out as it has.

Fabric.

We all have some type of "fabric". Every single one of us. It's just that many of us don't know what it is at the time, or if we do, we don't realize the effect it has on our lives until it's too late. Or should I say, late in the game. It's never too late. Because what I have learned is that once you identify and address your personal fabric, you can literally change your own direction in life. Literally. Of course if you want to.

One's fabric could be a relationship with a parent that has steered you your entire life in decision making and self worth. It could be an act of violence or abuse from your childhood. It could be the relationship modeled by your parents. It could be someone in your family abusing alcohol or drugs. It could be anything. But the fabric that you have is anything but nothing.

That's what I've been working on lately. It's easy on some days, and terribly troubling on others. But at least I know what it is. The frustrating part is knowing how to manage it without always fearing a negative consequence.

It's an interesting and empowering discovery to make.

But also sad when you realize that your childrens' fabric will be the same as your own. Yet I wonder, can I help them from now so they don't live through the reapeat mistakes? I think I can. Which is a pretty cool thing.

2010-11-17T12:33:00.001-05:00

The Life Cycle of Blogs... and other things no less

2010-05-14T11:01:00.004-04:00

So my last post on this damn blog was way back in February. I've finally landed in the "late stage" of blogging life cycles... you know, those blogs that at first post once if not twice a day, then slowly turn to weekly postings, then suddenly fall off the face of the earth.

sigh...

And I think today, as I am 40 years old and 1 day, how life cycles apply to pretty much everything.

I am quite sure my currently zestful 10 year old daughter (whom I love with a passion none the less) will be facing her "menstrual" cycle anytime now according to her attitude and back talk. And I remember those days with the hormones exploding, just wanting to pelt anyone and anything that looked at me wrong, crying over bad hair days and thinking out loud that no one (ESPECIALLY my mother) had a friggin' clue as to what I was dealing with.

My poor little hormonal child. You are soon to be yet another product of life cycles... please just allow me to survive, tolerate and feel even the smallest amount of satisfaction that there is a chance that my own past experiences might be able to help you...

...if you'd just listen to me for a second without rolling your eyes or stomping away in disgust when I simply look at you or call your name...

Never mind. I surrender. And I surrender with love and complete understanding.

My peanut you are no more.

Sex Education and the Questions That Follow

2010-02-07T15:29:00.004-05:00

I've been trying to be my childrens source of 'age appropriate sex education' these days. All you hear is how parents MUST begin these conversations early on to create a comfortable environment for our kids with the hopes that they will then come to us with questions and concerns regarding sexual situations and peer pressure in the years to come...

And while I consider myself a pretty open and candid mom these days, nothing can prepare you for the questions that a 6, 7, 9 and 10 year old have obviously had manifesting in their brains on the exact topic...

Here's some tips to keep in mind so you are not as blindsided as I was last week:

1. Prepare to be placed in the "Totally Disgusting" category when your youngest child finally correlates having a baby to actually "having to had sex" in most cases. Because this revelation became apparent last week to my 7 year old, and I have now been classified as "totally disgusting". I think that might be a good thing in the whole spectrum of sex education, right?

2. Use better terminology than sperm being "like fish". Because after stewing about the conversation for some time, my step-sons still can't understand how an actual fish could fit into a woman's vagina and swim through her body and stay alive. It's not a god damn Hammerhead Shark for Christ's sake... think guppy-like... or better yet microscopic dust-mite size. Seriously, tailor your "fish" description now.

3. Right after you remind them to always feel comfortable to come to you when they hear things at school, you know, so they can get the TRUTH on sexual rumors running rampant through groups of friends, forget the line about how you promise not to "laugh" or "make fun of them" for ever coming to you with a question. I mean it. Because IMMEDIATELY after you promise not to laugh, you're going to be faced with that week's sex rumor running around school, which in our school district was that you have to have sex a LOT longer in order to make twins. And when something like this exits their lips in full seriousness and curiosity, you'll surely burst out in laughter at their face, and ensure they NEVER come to you again with questions.

To my four little boogers who have killed me with curiosity this past week, I only hope that I've begun to pave the road to trust between all of us. And while you think I'm "totally disgusting" these days, I think it's fair to say that I'm totally going to think the same of each of you in a few years to come.

And if that isn't enough stress for the week, after hearing this week's school sex rumor from my daughter my husband has now begged me to work on conceiving "Octuplets" tonight after Superbowl margaritas...

Honey... pour me a margarita and set the timer.

When is it TOO MUCH? Another Reason I Loathe My Husbands EX...

2010-01-15T11:22:00.007-05:00

I desperately need some advice. Even from those parents who are raising kids in a regular marriage vs. blended, divorced setting:

How much is TOO MUCH when it comes to extracurricular activities for kids?????

Just between my two step-sons, we have practices on Monday, Tuesday and Friday nights. Practices for us are 30-60 miles away depending on the night because we live 25 miles from the boys' Mom. So from the time they leave for school that morning, they don't get back to our house those nights until 7:30pm... and Friday nights not until 8:30.

Then weekend games start as early as 8am. However these are the games located 60 minutes away, so to get there in time to "warm-up", my husband is waking Step-son #1 up on Saturday mornings as early as 6:30am - that's earlier than school days! Indoor soccer games follow Basketball on Saturdays, which can be anywhere from 11am to 2pm. However these games are 10 miles in the opposite direction of where we live, so add another 60 minute drive in between just in order to get from one game to another.

In the meantime, I can't even participate anymore (not that the driving interests me at all, but the fact I can't support his playing makes me sad at times), because I'm driving my girls to either basketball or soccer Saturday mornings. Not that they are striving athletes, but they want to participate in something "for fun". And forget the comments around why my husband always has to go to Step-Brother #1's sports and not theirs... talk about being torn and put right in the middle. It's heartbreaking and totally sucks.

In addition to this, step-sons' Mom has now signed the boys up for open Basketball leagues on Sundays. This again is a 30 mile drive for us. Games are between 1 and 4, and of course the boys play in separate leagues, so it's now several hours of our Sunday that we will no longer be together.

The fall is the same with outdoor soccer and football going on, and spring will bring t-ball and something else.

I want family time. I want a sacred day. And we continuously get undermined by a parent who can not set boundaries, can not say "no" to her children, and has no compassion for what our schedule and limited time with the boys really looks like.

So today we communicated to dear Hubby's EX a new rule in our house where one day per weekend will from now on moving forward be sacred. No sports, no activities, no driving miles away. We are going to go bowling as a family. Or to a movie. Or do game day.

And she won't have it.

In her mind we will be punishing the boys in choosing. We are setting unfair rules and ultimately it will be the boys who will suffer. How could we do such a thing when they have interest in playing or participating in something? It just won't work she says.

God forbid they actually have some quality time with their family. How unfair.

Are we complete assholes? Oh, no...that's right. We're actually responsible parents who know limitations and boundaries need to be made by the adults, and that in this already fucked up world, there is no family connection as it is.

Big middle finger up to you my dear Hubby's Ex... I swear, maybe someday you will see that being the hero parent in the way you see it is just setting your kids up for failure. Go ahead and adopt another team member and enjoy the miles of driving back and forth from town to town. Keep screaming like an idiot in the bleachers... the kids get a big kick out of that. We won't miss you a bit as we go have family competition day at the local bowling alley for 3 hours. We'll crack up at Daughter #1 as she competes as if she's a professional bowler yet cries after each gutter ball. Daughter #2 will sneakily give nicknames and change scores on the computer monitor while no one is looking, patiently waiting for us to question if the machine suddenly froze or broke. Step-son #1 will continuously drop his ball on his backward swing and accidentally hit one of us every time, while Step-son #2 will just be scarfing down hotdogs, french fries and chicken tenders. He won't even stop to breathe... unless it's to blow bubbles through a straw in his X-tra Large sized Coke cup.

Total punishment I say.

Seriously, am I being unreasonable? Put me in my place if I am. I need it.

Step Parenting Sucks... sometimes

2010-01-07T09:15:00.004-05:00

I absolutely adore my step-sons. I really do. I love my husband even more. And of course, my girls are nothing less than precious to me. But step-parenting sucks sometimes. It's probably one of the most self-less jobs a person can have and brings on so many additional challenges when compared to parenting your own children.

Here are just a couple of things I struggle with:

The TRANSITION period. Children of divorce get the worst deal. They have absolutely no choice in the option of splitting living time between two separate households. And even harder for them is the difference in rules between houses. Unfortunately, when biological parents fall at opposite ends of the discipline paradigm, these poor little kids fall on their face. Well, at least when they get to our house they fall, because we actually have rules that we enforce. And for them coming to our house, it takes a at least a couple of days to simply transition to how they know they can behave in our home. And this leads to a whole other frustration around being the "mean" parents, or the "assholes". But from the words of my therapist, they will later appreciate or benefit from having structure and set expectations. ("When??!!" I ask, "When???") Rules and appropriate behavioral expectations will benefit them in the long run. I wish they could see that now though, instead of seeing me as the "step-mom" who should have starred in Cinderella.

MY HUSBAND, THE DAD. I miss my husband when his boys are here. And I realize that he probably feels the same way when his kids are not here, and my girls are clinging to me almost 24 hours a day as if I were their lifeline to survival. Yet, for those 10-15 days each month when those little terds are here, they are glued to my husbands body as if he had a sudden growth on his side that was irremovable. How precious is the fact that they just eat every waking moment with him, because that is what they crave and desire. But inside, I miss him and feel selfish to even type the words.

BLENDING A FAMILY. With two girls of my own (7 and 10) and my husbands two boys (6 and 9), when we are all together I couldn't be prouder. Yet blending 4 creatures together and cramming their entire lives under one roof for undefined periods of time can only result in chaos. Competition. Argues. Fights. There usually comes a point in time where I literally have to simply "check out". I've even told them that. I can't do it anymore. And then, I hear the uncontrollable giggling amongst them all in the basement, or the constant chit-chat at bedtime when they all insist on sleeping in one room together even though we just moved in order to give them all their own space. And then I fall in love with each of them all over again. Thank God.

I struggle every day hoping that what I do is the best thing for each of them. I hope that I choose the right words, the right timing, the right battles to fight and ultimately that one day, somehow, they will look back and possibly think silently even for one moment in their adult life that I loved them immensely and did the best I could.

I can only hope.

Dealing with the "Narcissistic Ex" - Holiday Advice

2009-12-11T22:35:00.006-05:00

I've been lucky enough to post something new here on maybe only a monthly basis these days, and what amazes me are the hits I get on one of my past posts around my husbands "Narcissistic Ex-Wife". Literally, in less than 24 hours, I've gotten 19 hits from people searching desperately for help. Every day, someone hits my blog because of their desperate search for help in dealing with a narcissist.

I totally remember those days.

I still search the Internet sometimes myself, only to help validate the rough days. Of course, we've learned to play the game better now, a few years into this whole thing, but still when we decide firmly to fight a battle we truly feel is important in regards to the kids, or an issue we feel we must stand up for ourselves on, let the war fucking begin. It's comical [yet so not comical in any way in the heat of the moment] to see the narcissist act out in the exact sequential steps our therapist describes they will... that wonderful, priceless human being of a therapist that actually made us realize we weren't "crazy" or just "miserable people looking to pick a fight", but were unfortunately battling something that to our regret would never change or disappear.

Because the narcissist LOVES a battle.

So my Christmas advice to anyone in desperate search of help, support, or just plain validation that proves YOU are not the crazy person at this moment in your life would be the exact same advice I would give to someone dealing with a "Narcissistic-Ex" at any time in their life... and it goes something like this:

1. Do not communicate with the narcissist unless absolutely necessary. And when co-parenting, do as much of this as possible by e-mail. Ignore all fabricated stories, accusations, lectures and condescending lines in these emails that you get and only respond with direct and firm replies.

2. Do not ask the narcissist more questions unless absolutely God forsaken necessary. Because you will either not get any response at all, or you will receive a 5 page email around details you already knew about but in their minds are obviously too dumb, slow or ignorant to remember or write down. They ARE the better parent in their minds. Always.

3. Never ask the "Narcissistic-Ex" what they might be buying the kids for Christmas. Just trust your own damn ideas. Do it. The kids will love them. Even when they get Guitar Hero at "Narcissist's House" and then come to your house at noon and get to open the exact same thing. Yip fucking ee. Even if it's a Giants jersey but the narcissist got the 7 year old Giants football game tickets. Stay home in the comfort of your warm basement and watch the same game that your Narcissistic Ex takes your kid to, and promise your son you'll be looking for his bright new red jersey in the stands. The kid will totally love you for just that.

4. Create a holiday schedule. And then, simply respond to the numerous attempts to change the holiday schedule with a simple line of "I'm sorry, but we've already made plans due to the holiday schedule arrangement we have." Even when they ignore your unwillingness to change your entire plans to accommodate them and continue to create new "deals" in schedule changes, simply continue to respond with "No, I'm sorry, we already have plans worked out." They will always ask for more, expecting more, because they think they deserve more. Just say no.

5. Create new traditions. Don't get caught up in trying to keep things the same as they "used to be", in honor of the kids. Things aren't the same. Kids grow up. And you deserve the same amount of time with your kids as they do. And the kids love time with both parents. Always. Not just the "Narcissistic-Ex" who obviously thinks the time with her is much more deserving, pleasant and due.

And for those of you who may hit this post in search of any advice around the "Narcissistic-Ex", PLEASE share your tips, because God knows we can use them.

Happy Holidays, from the Splendid Blendeds.

What It Takes to Make U.S. News

2009-12-01T16:36:00.004-05:00

What the hell has happened to our country where we are more concerned about someone like Tiger Woods bumping his car in a minor mishap involving absolutely no one else but he and his golf-club-carrying wife?

Why do we make the media dwell over stories like the financially broke couple who gained access to the White House in order to get enough publicity to make the cut of a new reality show?

Who the fuck cares.

What is wrong with this country???

Halloween Hell

2009-11-03T16:07:00.002-05:00

I'm not sure what it is about Halloween, but I've decided it's hell. Costumes, makeup, nailpolish on 7 year olds, fish net stockings now on elementary aged kids... and most of you can relate to all the room-parent responsibilities for those of us who pretend we have enough time in our crazy lives to help out our teachers in order to be perceived as a "good" parent.

But then again, after thinking about it, hell can also create some pretty damn "cute" things.

I love my 4 little pirates, even in all the hell.

My Daughter is pulling her eyelashes out and my therapist thinks I'm crazy

2009-10-22T12:20:00.005-04:00

While I'm in the midst of determining my own life purpose (don't hold your breath... Oprah's articles so far have been less than revealing)... I decided to face the fact that eyelashes actually do have a defined purpose. And my little OCD tendency kid who lives life through quirky routines to deal with some type of anxiety issue has pretty much plucked almost all of her eyelashes out.

So what does a reliable "mom" do?

Call her previous therapist, of course!

But it's been 4 days with no return call.
...
...
...
That's not good, right?

Talk about a slap at someone's self esteem. Shit. Here we go again.

Determining Your Purpose in Life

2009-10-20T14:42:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I hit the gym for the first time in a 3 months. New job, new company and new house currently under complete renovation has stepped on my life.

No.

STOMPED on my life.

I realize I'm fortunate to have a job again. I'm thankful to have the opportunity to own a house. But yesterday as I strolled down a local drugstore aisle, the amazing Oprah Winfrey screamed out to me that I was suddenly in need of determining the purpose of my life. This was her months mission. And because this particular magazine rack was bare of every single trash magazine possible, I reluctantly listened.

What a fucking great idea. I need a god damn purpose.

I thought I was a mom. But that gets old by 7:14 am each morning.

I thought I was a sales representative helping patients manage chronic illnesses. Instead I've discovered in a new company that instead, I am a robot instructed to attack my audience targets with scripted messages while ensuring I take up 2 extra minutes of the negative time they have already agreed to see me.

So here I sit, or type for that matter, 24 hours after purchasing the answer to my own life's purpose... and I still haven't opened the front cover yet.

But you can guarantee that when I do, I'll be sure to let you in on the long awaited answer... as long as my purpose is more than just nibbling cheese and blogging life away.

The Color of Crack is Quite Scary

2009-10-16T10:47:00.004-04:00

Well, I'm finally ready to share a brief summary of my learnings around the color of ass crack. And thanks to my curious children, I'm prepared to dish up some great conversation with strangers at holiday parties this year.

Here's what I found in a nutshell:

1. You can't google "Why are Ass Cracks Pink" without getting some really nasty search results. Most of the pics I dared to open were things I wouldn't even WANT to share with you. And most of you probably know, I'm usually willing to share quite a lot.

2. There are people who actually post questions on butt crack colors on Medical Websites. And worse off, there are more than too many people that have hairy butt cracks, growths on butt cracks, or bleeding/chaffed butt cracks, who in my opinion are desperately in need of help.

3. There is a drink called "Sand in your Butt Crack". It includes melon liquor, Jack Daniels and pineapple juice I think. I watched a video on it thinking I could at least share SOMETHING valuable in this post, but the drink looked as if it would taste as bad as one of those butt growths I saw.

So for now, I lay my search to rest. The curious kid who posed the innocent question around butt crack color a few weeks ago has already moved on to her next fascination in everyday life anyway, which entails picking her eyelashes. And unfortunately every google search on this one points to needing a therapist.

Like mother, like daughter.

The natural color of ASS

2009-09-18T16:12:00.005-04:00

Question: "Mom, why is your butt crack pink?"

Response [jumping up, wiping off ass of pants frantically]: "What??? Do I have something on my pants and didn't know it? Did I sit in something, Syd?"

Question [kid laughing, but still curious]: "NO MOM. Why does everyone have pink on their butts? You know, inside their cracks? Why are they pinkish purple?"

silence...

Welcome to my life.

And now I'm off to google "pink butt cracks". I will share my PG-13 learnings tomorrow... because when I asked my husband this same question last night and how I might have responded to the curious blue-eyed 7 year old, his answer revolved around how porn stars actually bleach their assholes to rid of pinkish-purple coloring for video.

I think I will eliminate that from my educational discussion with my curious kid tomorrow. Thoughts?

An Innocent Murder... times two

2009-09-14T11:24:00.004-04:00

My kids finally did it. They got caught playing "Doctor".

Last night, as we accompanied three of them upstairs at pajama time, I was welcomed by at least 76 stuffed animals spread amongst 4 bedrooms, two bathrooms and a full hallway. Some looked quite content, tucked among pillows. Others in blankets. But some had obviously not been so lucky and instead were wrapped in rolls of toilet paper that I now know were a child's attempt at creating medical "slings"... and were securely tightened with paperclips and hair pins to ensure enough pressure was being applied to the mysterious wounds each individual animal was not-so-obviously suffering from.

And then I walked into my little Sydney's bedroom...

...only to find enough toilet paper, wipes and tissues to cover the entire continental United States, wadded up everywhere with trails leading directly to her 2-day old fish bowl which houses her new friends Princess and Butterfly. A wet fish net lay aside the bowl. And then, I spotted the two Sponge Bob Dixie cups.

"Sydney... were you guys playing with your fish?!!"

silence.

"We were just playing Vet Hospital, Mommy."

So peace out Butterfly.

And to Samantha's Bob who is our latest victim of asphyxiation, adieu.

You checked into the wrong medical center my dear friends, as you were mistaken for amphibians.

Maybe that lung-breathing puppy IS the better choice?

How Do I Remove Hovering Text Ads? HELP!

2009-08-22T08:22:00.005-04:00

Blogger HELP!!!!!?????????

I refuse to publish a post where sudden text word advertising links have invaded my computer. Does ANYONE have any idea why suddenly my posts would have certain words highlighted with bullshit advertising ads that appear if a reader hovers over them? I have never subscribed to Google AdSense... and can not figure out how to remove them.

I refuse to post anymore until I remove it... Any suggestions???????????????????

It's An Acorn, Damn It!

2009-08-08T09:32:00.005-04:00

As I'm on vacation, I couldn't help sharing the trauma of delivering a fucking acorn last night.

I delivered an acorn, which was blown out with high volume irrigated water flow, through my right eardrum. OK, it was an acorn SIZED wad of fucking ear wax, which had sealed my entire eardrum shut, and caused me to walk in 50% silence for over a day and a half until I could stand no more.

And while a Registered Nurse literally screamed as in orgasm at the delivery of the acorn-sized ball of shit coming out of my ear late last night, I'd like to state for the record that while being on vacation with four kids plus 2 additional children under the age of 3 that belong to your sister, being 50% deaf for a day and a half really isn't that bad.

The Woman Who Rose From the Dead

2009-07-31T07:46:00.002-04:00

As I type on my keyboard with all kids asleep and a husband running to get me coffee since we are living in the midst of boxes and contractors during our move this week, I deeply miss the longing to type and post and write more and more...

And while I surely got some chuckles from those of you so kind to ask if my hiatus from blogging was due to the tender spike up my ass I received sometime ago (aka my Ask review in post below), the boring truth is simply that life has somewhat taken 20 steps forward... all at the fucking exact same time.

It's all good thank God, so I can not whine, or bitch, or even loathe my children this morning. But I'm tired, and need another week or two to get through all the transition. And then... from a new home only a few blocks away from where I sit now...... I will rise again.

And begin the search for anyone willing to visit me again.

A Spiky Boot Up My Tender Ass...

2009-07-08T12:46:00.005-04:00

Well, if you want to feel better about yourself today,

go read my blog review over at

Ask And Ye Shall Receive.

If you need me,

I'll be squatting in my living room corner

sucking thumb,

de-whining and

contemplating less words.

Elevated Man... We want to be you when we grow up

2009-07-07T10:58:00.004-04:00

Went to Jersey Shore this weekend,

and all I got to look at poolside was .................THIS?????

OK, aside from the hundreds of 20-30 year olds that sported the hotel pool bar and club in bikinis, gold lame see through cover ups, jewelry brighter and heavier than Ice-T and T-Pain, wedge sandals taller than 8 inches in height, designer bag satchels bigger than full grown toddlers and sunglasses screaming designer names in capital letters...

"Elevated Man", you live a fantastic life.

At the unbelievable "Vegas" style pool party

where my husband and I found ourselves hiding

in corner lounge chairs unable to leave

because of the unbelievable "People Watching" available...

...YOU sat front and center of boobs, liquor and weed smokers

merely puffing away on your cigar

and slowly sipping some sort of liquor from a plastic cup,

for hours and hours on end...

In the midst of EVERYTHING.

Where is the mercy?

Elevated Man... You Amaze Us.

And for that, we give you two thumbs up.

OCD is obviously hereditary. Shit.

2009-07-03T00:34:00.003-04:00

I've come to the realization that my little OCD child may be learning tendencies from me.

WTF???

Shit. Well, you tell me... Is it normal to:

Ensure that during your nightly set-up for delayed timing of morning coffee brewing you also lay out in precise motion exactly ONE SECTION of a select-a-size paper towel set at a perfect diagonal, your coffee cup, 2 Splendas and a specific favorite coffee teaspoon so you are fully prepared in the morning for instant gratification?

Take 22 minutes before bed to apply prescription arm lotion in specific stroke movements, always right arm first, then left, then pop an Allegra, then reapply wax to poking metal brackets of new braces before even speaking one word to your husband because even the smallest messing up of such a ritual will set you off and force one to start over from the absolute beginning causing husband to stare at you as if you were a crazy woman?

Eat popcorn one popped kernel at a time, even though you are starving and craving the buttery taste, but have developed such a habit so many years ago you can not think to entertain any other mode of consumption? First, grab fistful of popcorn with right hand; second, transfer fistful of popcorn to left hand in one swift move; third, use right hand to feed mouth individual kernels, one by one.

I swear I'm laid back about a lot of shit. It takes me less than ten minutes to get ready in the morning in order to leave the house. I can pick up a pair of wrinkled jeans from my closet floor and pair it with a 2 day-worn tank top, dress and feel newly re-freshed without hesitation. And put me in an uncomfortable situation at work or out socially, and I'll think to myself, "Hey, whatever..." and find some way to make a joke out of it.

But seriously, WTF is up with some of this other shit? Seriously. To my 7 year old peanut who I've so many times cussed out about your OCD tendencies, nightly routines of tucking blankets and obsession with the remote control, today you receive my compassion and apologies.

Can anyone else make me feel somewhat normal?

Another Ode to my husband's Ex-Wife and why I hate you

2009-07-02T01:33:00.001-04:00

Because we simply asked 2 months ago to take the boys for the day this July 4th to my husband's family picnic at the lake since Mark didn't have them last year due to work, and you turned his request into a circus of e-mails and negotiations and threats insisting that if we took them for just a portion of the day this year then we would have to "concede" our full July 4th holiday next year as scheduled, as we should know your family always has "daily activities and picnics each year during the "day"... causing us to say forget it for the sake of the boys and the sake of our sanity...

and because we found out just today after making reservations to leave early on our vacation since we wouldn't be having time with the boys this year that through a simple request from my husband's father you've easily agreed to now let the boys go to the family picnic during the day after all with them...

and because my therapist says it's not my place to confront you around custody issues directly...

and because I am HOPING that some third party reading this would have the courage to point out my opinion to you triggering you to possibly confront me about my feelings so then I COULD actually rip your eyes out with words of truth you know you can't run from without feeling I initiated it with you directly, going against my wonderful therapist......

and because I don't understand how any parent in this world, full of self misery and hatred or not, if putting their children's needs and best interests FIRST could thrive off the control and time spent arguing over little, simple requests by a father with joint custody for time with the kids forcing multitudes of holiday contracts as long as fucking War and Peace....

To you, the ex-wife I have so contemptuously inherited....

Fuck you.

Activities for kids while Mom travels so I can go back to being a sarcastic ASS

2009-07-01T14:00:00.000-04:00

Hi. Remember me?

You know, that sarcastic divorced single mom who was fortunate enough to get re-married to her dream man yet will still constantly talk shit about her kids in order to maintain an ounce of sanity?

No? Don't recall her?

Well... I don't either. Because today marks only day 2 of my girls being whisked off to Las Vegas and California for 14 days straight by their biological father for the longest visit and vacation they've ever had away from me and I'm not handling it very well...

...even though the day prior to departure left me wanting to smoke illegal substances due to their horrid behavior... [ooh, wait, there she is... the sarcastic mom I've been looking for these days...]...

And now let's add just a little more challenge, which I think is the extra dash of salt being added to my current wound:

The day before they return, I must leave for two weeks across the coast for my final major training endeavor for the new job I am honored to have won. And that will make it 4 solid weeks I won't be seeing my girls.

So anyone have any creative fun activities I can do for them on a daily basis to help them through their two week return to Grandma and a new Summer Sitter? No Martha Stewart creative activities please since I have absolutely ZERO artistic juice in this body, but maybe just some simple, silly ideas that might help them have something to look forward to each night... I was thinking a nightly envelope to open directing them to a scavenger hunt clue or something... and if they succeed on each nightly mission they will get a special date night with Mom on her return.

If they even remember who Mom is 4 weeks from now.

Help. I need to get back to my smart ass sarcastic ways. Any advice? Aside from more red wine and an upcoming gambling trip to Atlantic City and the beach?

Happy Birthday, Sydney!

2009-07-01T00:00:00.004-04:00

Happy 7th Birthday, Sydney.

You make me smile every day,

and I love you

in amounts I can't begin to express....

Your passion and energy shine through every day,

and touch people in ways you simply can't understand...

Thank you for what you give me...

All my love,

Mommy

How to Crush Your Kid's Lemonade Stand Dreams

2009-06-15T08:20:00.007-04:00

The reason I love my husband even more today:

It always seems like when I'm down and out, my husband can some how unintentionally make me feel better. Even in the midst of a regular Saturday evening, with our four kids plus a regular-down-the-street-kid-who-thinks-she-lives-here planning a lemonade stand competition in the midst of a family barbecue we're getting ready for.

The lemonade stand idea actually arose 3 hours prior while swimming. Since all the kids never get along, it would be the two oldest, versus the three younger ones. Each were going to "make the most money". Each were going to have "advertising signs". Each were planning strategically their set-up, supplies, price per cup and total dollar goal for the sale.

Damn, these kids are brilliant when they want to be. And they have never been so excited or juiced up like this.

Never, Ever. You would think they won a million dollars to spend at Toys R Us.

But then, they begin to unravel. The competition gets heated. And the older kids sneak Oreo cookies, bagged chips and teddy grahams to sell. The youngest of the group throws open the garage door, flies up the steps to the kitchen with flushed cheeks screaming at his father and I:

"WE NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED SNACKS TO SELL!!!!!"

My husband wants absolutely nothing to do with it anymore. He's moved their tables 13 times, filled 2 pitchers of lemonade, removed 1 mosquito from someones cup and has slipped on a patch of ice chips.

My husband to the desperate 5 year old in attempt at keeping calm: "No, go outside. You don't need any snacks."

Desperate Child of Younger Lemonade Stand: "YES!!!!!! WE DO!!!! The older girls have snacks! We NEEEEEEEED SNACKS too!!!"

My husband [with veins in neck about to burst] to desperate 5 year old: "NO YOU DON'T. If you don't go outside, you're done."

Desperate Child who Never gives up opens pantry and starts tearing through food packages, whipping pasta boxes and other non-child friendly food packages out onto the floor.

And then I hear it.

This is what my husband screamed at our desperate 5 year old child in the very next moment, stooping down to eye level, only 3 inches from his face:

"YOU ARE NOT GETTING ANY SNACKS.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

BECAUSE NO ONE IS GOING TO

BUY YOUR LEMONADE!

NO ONE IS GOING TO COME

TO YOUR GOD DAMN SALE!

DO YOU GET IT?

NO ONE! NO ONE!"

Me Quietly Reaching for an entire sleeve of chocolate chip cookies and new family size bag of Cheetos: "Here honey. Go sell some snacks dude."

And the sale continued. With an entire final count of $6.85 in total earnings. Minus the $22.50 cost of snacks, cups and lemonade on my part. But hey, who's counting right? Especially when the final outcome is my husband quietly muttering under his breath as he leaves the kitchen:

"You're a way better person than I am."

No honey, it's just your turn. That's all.

Who IS THIS WOMAN and how do I kill her?

2009-06-12T11:27:00.003-04:00

[This is an upcoming post of mine on Venus and Mars where at times I contribute... but I felt compelled to share here as well.]

Oh boy. Already I question the "class" of my word choice within today's post title. But hey, life is really rounding some tough turns these days, and quickly my care about what anyone thinks around my writing and whether it's appropriate or not dissolves. Poof.

Question:

Have you ever had a time in your life when things just seemed to be spinning out of control? I mean, to the point where you literally talk to your own self, saying repeatedly "WHO IS THIS PERSON?"

That's the week I've had. And of course, with good reason. Yet at the same time, I've knowingly yet without intention have turned all my anger and stress towards my husband. And I feel terrible about it.

I've apologized. I've gotten mad when simply asked by him "Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?" I've went quiet for periods of time. I've snipped at him for things I would never normally do. And it's like I'm looking from the outside in, at this woman who is totally not herself.

This is an example of the ~~abuse of~~ strength in communication and respect within marriage. I made my plea and have apologized immensely. I've even taken steps to rectify the situation. All in all, we live fortunate lives. Yet, sometimes, like this week, things and decisions and life-changing moments can cause us to either separate from those we love, or present the opportunity for us to learn from those moments, and cause an even stronger bond of intimacy and closeness. I hope we've managed to do the second.

In the meantime, if I can offer one ounce of advice, it would be the following:

Don't EVER take on a new job that requires weeks away from home across the country while at the same time buying a new home and selling your own home within 7 days at full price with no contingencies which is great at first but then allows you absolutely no way to back out of the deal which is exactly what you'd want to do when you unexpectedly find out that the inspection on the home you're buying came back with major issues including electrical fire hazards and gas leaks that could cost up to $10,000 which the seller refuses to fix and you've realized that you may be homeless because the ruthless real estate agent who was supposedly your dear friend has too much money on the line to now ensure "all things work out" as she has also already sold the house of the people buying your own.

Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep Breath.

I'm opening the wine early tonight. And to my dear beloved husband and to any other man out there that must tolerate the behavior us woman bestow upon all of you at some point or another:

God Bless You.

And I am sincerely sorry.

A Little Bit Of Luck... thank god my head's not that big!

2009-06-11T10:07:00.003-04:00

If you need a laugh today, just check this quick commercial out.

Aside from needing "A Little Bit'a Luck" these days,

I need a little bit of humor.

Just watch him skip across the screen... it's hysterical.

Pardon my absence...

2009-06-09T06:36:00.003-04:00

...but it takes much longer these days
to recover from a day in wine country.

Meet the "Wine Gang".

Wine + coolers + party busses = dangerous at this age.

Jealousy, Sex and the 70 Year Old Owner of our Future House

2009-06-04T19:00:00.007-04:00

So, I was going through my husband's jeans last night...

[not a normal habit I would like to protest... I was simply looking for a few spare dollars to donate to a door-knocking-neighborhood-teen-scoundrel raising money for some God forsaken sports trip...],

...and this is what I find in his back pocket:

WTF?

Um, for those of you that don't know

me or my two blonde daughters that well,

THOSE BITCHES AIN'T US!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So Ms. Blogger asks her readers...

Is it a picture of:

A) Illegitimate children he so shamefully neglected to speak of these past several years?;

2) The woman I in a matter of 2.4 seconds flat decided he might be having an affair with, and her two daughters who so strangely are both blonde and oddly resemble my own two girls in age?;

3) The daughter and grandchildren of the 70 Year Old woman who currently owns the house we are purchasing, who happened to leave her house key for my husband yesterday in order for us to be present for the full-day inspection going on.

Women are asses. But the funniest shit is, I called him out so kindly on it, and he's busted my ass right back ever since. He was actually flattered by my expressed jealousy.

So readers, jealousy can be a good thing, if it every-so-often presents itself in small doses.

And so is the sex that follows!

Hot Mama, WHAT?

2009-06-02T22:06:00.007-04:00

I'm speechless.

And aside from the too-much-blogged-about 6 year old daughter

who's literally been kicking my ass this week,

everything else has fallen from my life's "SHIT RADAR".

Because I have just gotten a kick ass award.

Check it out:

No, the woman is not vomiting blood.

She's sensually sucking a red hot pepper.

It COULD be me, you know.

I could suck a red pepper just as good as anyone else I say.

Mmmm Hmmm.

Yes.

I could.

Right, Honey?

So for all of you who haven't braved the click

and checked out HOT DADS, you really must.

It's an entirely new and refreshing world -

the male blogging perspective on so many topics.

And it's not just a single male perspective.

It's a list of men.

That's all I believe I need to say.

Except for "Thank You Hot Dads",

for bestowing upon me the greatest honor

I could imagine this week.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a red pepper waiting in the frig...

Susan Boyle, Me and my OCD Child

2009-06-01T13:28:00.005-04:00

I'm not very shocked at the recent news stories around Susan Boyle's supposed nervous breakdown. I mean, how could any ho-hum-never-been-kissed-but-now-sudden-superstar-at-way-too-old-of-an-age human being make it through the unbelievable press and attention she's gotten over the last several months?

Right?

And then again, while I may not have to hide from photographers or journalists crouching outside my bushes to catch a glimpse of me at my worst moments, my life these days feels like a category 5 hurricane. Or tornado. Or whichever one of those damn natural catastrophes is described by some type of "categorical system".

These days my own definition of "Category 5" can also be described as:
"Complete Mother-Fucking Mayhem".

Yeah, yeah... whine, whine, bitch, moan. But in addition to all I have going on personally, my kids decided to enter new stages in life, JUST as we have tons of shit going on here at home. Well, OK, my 9 year olds' attitude still sucks the shit out of me - her phase just keeps spinning downward... however, my little soon-to-be-seven-year-old OCD kid has developed new tendencies at night time which basically revolve around NO SLEEP WHAT SO EVER. Her complaints consist of having wrinkles in her sheets, having no pajamas that are comfortable and hating her bed because it is crooked.

Am I the only mother that honestly with her whole heart truly attempts to console and cuddle and talk out these issues with their child they love and treasure to death for nights on end, but suddenly, when asked to tuck blankets tighter for the 17th time in a row, loses all sense of motherly instinct and checks out to no avail wishing her kid a night of hell, only to lock herself in the bathroom with the tub running in order not to hear the cries for mommy, waiting and counting to see how long it takes her husband downstairs to attend to issues he would never normally deal with because kid-in-question wouldn't DARE exhibit such bullshit behavior if alone with Dad or Step-Dad or any other caring adult for that matter?!!!!

Am I???

These are the days I feel like I suck shit as a Mother. My little 6 year old who deals with small OCD tendencies most likely caused by anxiety, [I will leave anxiety source ex-husband out of the story for not wanting to be convicted of defamation of character], is probably in her own way dealing with the traumatizing event of moving from the only one house she has ever known, and has expressed she doesn't want to go, even though she is filled with excitement after seeing the new house. Even the smallest change in routine knocks this kid to no end. And here we are as the adults in her world, not even contemplating the effects of all this change on the littlest of female beings, trucking on as usual, without even asking how she's doing with it all.

But then, just as I start to feel sympathy again, all I can hear in the back of my brain are the screaming words of "Tuck Mommy, TUCK!! Tuck harder, Mommy, GOD!" And then I hear complete tears.

Tears from both of us.

Maybe tomorrow will be better, that is, after we head "new pajama" shopping tonight.
If not, I may follow Susan Boyle's footsteps and check in somewhere after my awaiting nervous breakdown.

Wish me luck.

And in the meantime Sydney, I hope you know,
Mommy loves you more than the world.

We'll figure this out together, baby.

A Letter to our Orthodontist

2009-05-30T07:56:00.005-04:00

Dear Dr. Orthodontist,

Thank you for your services over the past several weeks. I want to say that while you did discuss minor challenges of retainers and braces for the half of our family who would now be entering "mouth restoration" days, you failed to mention some important points that basically want me to spit sharp wire at your face. For example:

The fact that my mouth protrudes out like a god damn monkey now due to all the wire and metal devices sitting inside my not-big-enough-oral-cavity. How the hell do you expect me to walk around like this for over a year?
The fact that you needed to hold my bite apart for at least 3 months which will not allow me to chew solids without gagging or choking. Thank goodness my husband is a police officer trained on correct Heimlich maneuvering as I continue to risk my life sucking down soups with even the finest of consistencies.
The fact that even drinking liquids such as desperately-needed coffee each morning could possibly be difficult, as my lips won't function as they used to just 3 days ago. Why didn't you note the need to tuck a napkin in my shirt collar even while sipping drinks as my lip acts as a saturated sponge vs. the solid barrier of keeping liquids IN my mouth as it used to?

The fact that in addition to my own whining and personal sacrificing, to exhibit similar retainer services on two of our children at the exact same time was absolutely not recommended. It's bad enough to whine myself and adjust to becoming an invalid, yet to listen to my 8 and 9 years olds do the exact same thing is just not tolerable and may cause me to rip their metal appliances out on my own so I'm not having to scrape and clean their roof structures after every fucking meal and snack. It's just downright nasty.
The fact that turning a key each night in my daughter's metal brace to widen her mouth bones is not only disgusting but pure torture and intolerable. For me and for her. Period.

PS... I hope you enjoy your multi-million dollar around-the-world family vacation this fall that we have now funded for you, your wife and your five kids, directly out of our own damn [now penniless] pockets.

PSS... And if you EVER stick your hands in my mouth during a follow up visit, consider yourself warned from this point on. The consequences could and probably will be fatal.

Regretfully,

Your 39 year old Brace Face Patient

BRACE Yourself When You See THIS!

2009-05-28T12:05:00.003-04:00

I think maybe this is the start of a mid-life crisis?

New job, new house, and hopefully in a year, NEW TEETH!

I've been a chicken to do braces,

and while I don't have major renovation needed,

I finally made the jump to fix my smile.

In the meantime, my husband's penis is "turtling in".

Those were his words, not mine.

Now I know why 12 is the preferred age to put sharp metal on teeth.

18 months and counting, honey!

Let's Just Add One More Piece of Shit to My Life

2009-05-27T08:30:00.004-04:00

What type of idiot not only accepts a new job that knowingly will put them over the edge with its fucked-up-never-to-be-used-in-real-application-on-the-job-duties-but-must-suffer-through-endlessly 8 week training, AND THEN within 48 hours spontaneously puts an offer on a new house minus the ever-so-necessary contingency to sell their OWN house within 60 days in today's shittiest of housing and financial economies?

Meet Mrs. Dumb Ass.

I believe my last blog ended with the exhilarated self-proclamation of "I WILL PREVAIL!".

Today, I can only gasp the following words, in an ever so soft, broken-up whisper:

"Please stab me in the eyeballs and simply end my misery."

I can absolutely not prevail this one.

To Work or Blog... that is the question.

2009-05-20T08:24:00.008-04:00

Today marks day 10 of my re-employment.

I haven't really brought it up directly, mostly because I think I'm so overwhelmed with new information that I don't want to face reality. But today's the day.

Back to Work. Bye-Bye daily blogging.

After a week in California in training at my new Bio Tech Headquarters, this is what I'm facing for the next 6 weeks:

I'm about to rip my eyeballs out. For those of you who read my writing, favorite topics tend to focus on the human anatomy or how my kids are such ass-holes at times, of course usually sprinkled with an occasional F-bomb here and there. So instead of writing about my husband's taint, or how my kids' asses smell like um... er... well, ASS way too much, I'm now having to submerge in what I believe to be PhD level chemistry modules on things I will most likely NEVER have to speak about with customers anyway...

I do not have science background. I'm a business major. And I am not a scientist. I'm in SALES for God's sake. So this is just pure torture.

And this morning as I should be cramming away, I choose to blog.

I.Just.Can't.Open.The.Books.Again.

We all have our different learning styles. Mine involves pictures and simplistic descriptions from those around me. And here's my level of learning style:

You see, I probably can understand cell structure and differentiate between DNA and rDNA and mDNA and all that other shit. Or wait, is that mRNA?

OK, so let's just cut to the shit. I can't remember anything that isn't drawn out in simple diagrams that comes along with a slick acronym to memorize it by. Without that, I don't care about it. And DNA surely is not what makes my sales numbers.

So in my world, rDNA will be remembered as "Real dicks need ass" for the next 6 weeks, until my final exam is over. And then, rDNA will dissolve from my memory.

Real dicks DO need ass, right?

So while I have to get a 90 or above on every test through mid-July, my blogging hobby will slowly be replaced. Here's what my new writing hobby has turned into:

And I'm determined to keep blogging. It's just going to be hard to find inspiring content when all I'm reading about is genomes and chromosomes and rheumatoid arthritis injections. But I'll find something.

IWP.

I will prevail.

From the Mouth of a 5 Year Old

2009-05-18T07:32:00.003-04:00

"Hey SUE!!! This is a small? My GOD, why is small so X-TRA LARGE????"

Spoken from the mouth of a 5 year old.

For those of you so kind to ask about my new job and recent absence in blog world, my return to work has put a damper on my writing hobby.

I'm determined to catch up soon!

Free Family Entertainment at Target

2009-05-08T00:15:00.000-04:00

Free Family Entertainment Tip #92:

Head to your nearest Target

and assign each child a display model digital camera.

"Which ever child takes the funniest picture

gets to ride home in the front seat."

She won.

But for a picture I made her erase... Electronics employee's plumber ass showing as he was bending over at register.

Like mother, like daughter.

Flip This... The death of a fish

2009-05-06T09:53:00.008-04:00

A six-year old returns from a classmates birthday party, running as fast as she can, while balancing a bowl of water. As I see the expression on her face, a pit begins to form in the bottom of my stomach...the smell of algae and stagnant beach water begin to surface more and more, with every step she takes towards me.

The innocent child presents with such pride, the "favor" she received when leaving the birthday party.

"MOMMY, WE HAVE A PET NOW!!! LOOK! I NAMED HIM FLIPPER!"

You.Have.Got.To.Be.F*#&%NG.Kidding.Me.

My brain starts spinning at this very moment - WHAT in the name of God did I ever do to this particular child's mother. Think. Hard. Wasn't I somewhat courteous those few times we entertained the obnoxious class of 1st graders together at Christmas time, and even during Easter Spring Fling when her little girl flung her black jelly bean at me just because she didn't like the taste? Did my kid hide her little one's favortie toy one day, or cause a riot about being line leader again, forcing her own child to second place?

Shit.

It had to be something. Because who the F_#&K in their right God forsaken mind would hand out live flippin' fish to six year olds at a birthday party? And in a 6 inch diameter of a bowl with 6 rocks scattered at the bottom?

Oh, and a "Ziploc snack bag" filled with about 24 flakes of gold fish food?

WHO, in God's name? WHO?

This woman obviously never cared to ask me of my horrific childhood that included rotating pets - a variety of pets that seemed to come into our lives with gusts of excitement, only to be taken away by mysterious disappearances...

I had gerbils. They got loose. My Mom still claims they climb inside her basement walls. I think she poisoned them and dumped them one Monday morning during garbage pick up, as they suffocated in a plastic baggie.

We had rabbits. And ducks. They all supposedly got "too big to handle" and were transported to farms all over the area where they could live a wonderful life with greenery and waterfront scenes. I think we ate them at dinners that summer. That was the year we upgraded our barbecue grill.

We had two Irish Setters. We had several mix puppies. We had two cats... and then Daisy, the Bichon. She mysteriously inherited some type of raging kennel disease, and lay to rest somewhere. But the last time we remember seeing her she was happily chewing my moms favorite sandal one morning, just as we were shuffled out the door to catch the school bus.

And then there were fish. They were free for God's sake. They were won from numerous attempts by the four of us oldest siblings, wanting so desperately a pet that we could keep for more than a week. We filled a bathtub full of water and emptied at least 30 beautiful guppies into the tub.

My mom smiled, and left us alone to care for them. Now, I realize she knew. There was no chance for their survival as the pure tap water poured over their fins, choking them as we unexpectedly watched in glee. I'll never forget waking up that morning. It was like an atomic bomb hit Fish Land. Every single one of them were floating. And I was totally devastated.

So last month, when the 6 year old came proudly home with her new fish, I remembered my childhood, and promised even against my husband's wish, to care for this as my own dream pet. I sought professional advice and purchased a tank along with special drops to remove chlorine and chemicals from our water as well as food. I also bought stones, and a silk plant for my dear "Flipper". And as much as my husband made fun of me, Flipper and I bonded this past month.

Until yesterday.

As we arrived home late from baseball practice, I ran to feed Flipper, but to no avail he was missing. He wasn't behind the plant, and as fear filled my entire body, I peeked from underneath to look all the way up, yet no Flipper was to be found, not even floating on top of the water surface. I screamed for my oldest step-son, Spencer.
He came running, and seeing the sheer horror on my face, raced to the tank to find my dear friend. Nothing.

Nothing.

No where.

Until...

Wait...

"Um... Sue???....."

"He's SUCKED IN THE FILTER! HE'S SUCKED IN THERE!! HE'S STUCK!!!"

Oh.My.God. I'm a pussy. I can't take shit like this. I just can't take this shit.

So now with the entire family filling the kitchen, my husband took charge, and after surveying the tank, asked everyone to leave. I looked at him.

It wasn't good.

Peace Out my dear friend, Flipper.

I have now joined the club of "Parental Pet Killers".

My Mom will be proud.

A Cop With A Camera...it's safe to speed now, my friends

2009-05-01T10:11:00.004-04:00

How You Know a Cop's Indisposed:

Mmmm... just lookin' at his gun and holster even this way makes me melt.
We are sick people, baby.

The Legal Bitches of #&^%##@ County

2009-04-30T08:06:00.007-04:00

Have you ever had to search for an attorney, in pure desperation to find the one that would be MOST ABLE to kick a soon-to-be "EX-SPOUSE" across half the country with only the lift of a nasty eyebrow, or a long silent pause with accompanied glare that could scream "YOU ARE GOING TO DIE IN COURT, MY DEAR ASSHOLE."?

Oh lord, I have. I actually had to change attorneys during my divorce which literally in my mind could take the record for "longest stall tactics ever" by a soon to be ex-husband. He even decided to move out of state without telling anyone, changing his residency while we both continued to fund attorney bank accounts for services that were not even legally fit anymore.

Of course, that was the final straw.

[Cue in Newly Hired Kick-Ass New York Female Attorney music. Can you still feel my smile from that many years ago?]

And it's not just the importance of women getting a kick-ass attorney. My current husband when going through his own separation and divorce gave up a lot. His narcissistic controlling ex of a wife who was caught &%&$^%$^% ))()*(*^^&%%^#%#%))__&^$# which would have caused ANY HUMAN BEING to leave their own marriage still had the audacity to pull strings and throw threats around him not ever seeing his boys again, and how she would fight to get full custody (unless of course he agreed to bullshit financial arrangements in the divorce).

PLEASE. She didn't and never will want full custody, and my husband's attorney at the time laughed at her. Yet he still felt vulnerable enough to give too much of himself in the agreement, in order to rid her quickly and get on with his life. All financial concessions, which in the scheme of things now are not important as we have the boys 50% of the time and share custody. I only wish I had known him at the time, to hold his hand and stand up to her along side of him.

But now, I have found the answer for EVERYONE in need of the toughest ass attorney group around. [And while I can't post their exact location online, I'd be happy to let you know if they are in your geographical area.]

My question to you: If you were going against ANYONE with this group representing them, would you not just want to slice your throat and give in to all legal Gods above?

Damn. I would revert to my bedroom corner sucking my thumb in full-squat position for days on end, as only the waiting on my upcoming Ask and Ye Shall Receive blog tear-my-ass-up-review has been able to do to me in the entirety of my life experiences.

Check this group out:

"Power Bitches" redefined.
PS... my sister is bottom center.

You go, girl. I am so very proud of your new endeavor.
And thanks for all the years of "kick-ass" legal advice.

Source of Swine Flu Identified

2009-04-29T14:27:00.003-04:00

Damn Kids.

Survival Tips for Blended Families (or anyone with children)

2009-04-28T07:38:00.005-04:00

One of my best friends tells me all the time I need to write a book.

"Seriously Sue... you need to write a reality book on "blended families".

Just call it "The Splendid Blendeds". It would be hysterical!"

chirp...

Of course, this particular "best friend" just so happens NOT to have kids yet.

Very.Funny.My.Dear.Carla.Very.Very.Funny.

When your life becomes a living entertainment log,

you know you might be in trouble.

But seriously, that's the way our life rolls in this house.

And I truly think, it's similar to any other family... "BLENDED" or not.

Thankfully, my husband and I both choose to see it through humor.

Otherwise, we'd probably be praying the two of us

become the next Swine Flu Victims.

So with that, here are a few tips on

Surviving in a Blended Family:

[Or just surviving in ANY FAMILY, as these rules apply to anyone dealing with more than one child.]

1. If you have never done so, or if you're new to the whole "blended" thing, call a family meeting to solicit "family" rules. Create and post these on your refrigerator for everyone to follow. Go through each one, and discuss why for example, "Being Kind to Others" is important.

Do not be surprised that just as you're getting to Rule #2 or #3, kids everywhere during the meeting are chatting, rolling eyes, wrestling, and trying to sneak the remote control in hopes family meeting time is OVER and they can get back to better things in life. "Family Meetings" are so NOT-cool to 8-year-olds. However, "Family Meetings" are a strategic way for parents to get all kids on the same side if even for a mere 4.6 minutes. [And while that "same side" is basically "We all think Mom and Dad are boring and family meetings suck.", they are all on the same side for at least that one moment, right?]

2. Do not hang created Family Rules poster from suggestion #1 just below the ice and water dispenser of your refrigerator, as drips and left behind melting ice chips will cause rules to become illegible. This in turn only gives children an "out" when they break a rule, because they actually "couldn't read the writing" and forgot the totally UN-obvious rule that states "We do not pinch or hit other people".

3. Get used to the 7,245 ways of implementing "taking turns" between siblings. Once you've created allotted times children must rotate to take turns with various activities such as computer time, Wii time, holding the remote control time, brushing teeth time, laying with mommy at bed-time time, TV channel selection time, playing on the round swing time, playing on the green swing time, hitting the tree with the stick we all happened to find together time, and every other human movement or decision-making time that exists, they'll have hit college-age and hopefully chosen a school with a minimum distance of 120 miles from your current city of residence.

4. Spend half a day and $38 in office supplies and laminating services to create interchangeable seat assignments in your god-for-saken Mini-Van stealth of a vehicle creating the rule that with each new day comes a rotation in seat assignments. Velcro name tags are secured to backings on all four seat windows in rear of van and will be rotated every morning for change of scenic opportunity for each kid. This will minimize ten minute fight prior to each outing and reduce both adult and child tear production on a daily basis, as expectations are set and parents do not overheat prior to backing out of the family driveway.

5. Have realistic expectations that rotating name-tags will only reduce fighting for approximately 3-4 weeks. Once "newness" wears off, be prepared to implement tip #3 around implementing fair "turn-taking" as to who gets to implement daily morning rotation of Velcro name tags.

In addition, create the following rule: "If any child even touches a name-tag without being asked, that individual will be locked in the basement for twice the number of minutes of their age. With no lights on." ["No lights on" clause very important in execution.]

Then, just realize that this idea should probably just be scrapped after a month and the feeling of shame may set in with the now semi-permanent Velcro sticking laminated name tags that add one more horrific element of personality to your Mini-Van stealth of a vehicle.

6. I'm too tired to share more and of course can not give away all my secrets if I still entertain the idea of writing a book.

WHAT'S YOUR FAMILY SURVIVAL TIP?

[Please share. I need help surviving.]

My Child's Love Affair with Sunscreen

2009-04-27T15:40:00.010-04:00

It's 90 degrees today in Upstate New York, and I have been smacked in the face by yet another OCD tendency of my 6 year old. The tedious process went away this winter season and luckily seemed to escape my memory for the past 8 or so months.

But 90 degree weather and 2 days of straight sunshine has caused a sudden re-birth.

My kid has OCD with "Sunscreen Application".

Are any other people's children obsessed with this phenomenon? I mean, my step-sons could care less about sunscreen. We usually need to chase them around poolside with lotion in hand, slapping their backs as best possible hoping that even the smallest amount lands.

My 9 year old will whine, but knows that succumbing to the rub-down is a much better deal than facing a time-out. There is no worse torture than watching your siblings play outside or swim while you sit nailed to a chair for 10 minutes. No worse torture.

But then, there is my 6 year old.

Sunscreen application is a very serious process. It begins at certain points on each arm. The lotion must be administered slowly - in small dabbing motions which then turn into single finger strokes, up and down, up and down.

Leg coverage is massive. The child looks like one major grease ball and if asked to hold anything within an hour after completion, items slip through her fingertips even with the most determined grip hold.

And then we have the ears, neck, underarms, shoulder and facial coverage. Facial coverage is what I fear the most. As yesterday reminded us, facial coverage causes facial sunscreen drippage after any amount of sweat or perspiration, which in turn causes massive eyeball burnage.

Wouldn't most normal people learn a lesson after just one experience of massive eyeball burnage? I would surely think so, but that would then not allow for the entire process of facial sunscreen coverage and here I believe is where the OCD takes over in my child.

And as much as I feel sorry for the kid, I can not help but laugh inside. I love that greasy mass of child, even as I realize that the season for wet-washcloth application over eyes has just begun.

God help us all.

Parenting Advice: How To Know When To Bathe Your Kid

2009-04-24T15:23:00.007-04:00

Mommy Tip #120

How to tell when your kid needs a bath:

When they look you directly in the eyes

on a school morning while getting dressed,

with two hands down the back of their panties

digging to China and back,

and speak the words so sincerely... :

"Mom, my butt itches really bad...

ARE WE TAKING BATHS TONIGHT?"

Oh.My.God.

Parents, that could be a sign.

[Identity of above child will remain secret in the chance you ever meet her and are greeted by a handshake.]

Upcoming Ass Tear from "Ask and Ye Shall Receive"

2009-04-22T17:06:00.012-04:00

Fuck.

Sorry. But that's what I'm thinking right about now.
I submitted my blog for a "review" without knowing what the hell I was in store for.

And basically, I'm just in for shit.shit.shit.

You see, I'm an "Initiator".

Initiators act F-A-S-T. We're the ones who actually EXECUTE an idea that others just talk about forever. While others can sit and debate possible decisions for hours on end, we've already made 17 phone calls and have basic information on each option for you, ready and waiting to be acted upon. And when you can't come to a decision, we just impatiently act, and things get done.

The PROBLEM is, we sometimes act too quick. We don't get all the information. We're not exceptional in being detail-oriented. We're just wanting to get to the f_#*ing next step.

So, when I submitted my blog for review to Ask and Ye Shall Receive, let's just say I kind of "f_#*ed" up.

Jesus Christ, just click on the damn link and LOOK at the URL (which of course I never did until just recently), and watch it scream out "I will fucking tear you apart".

Oh.

My.

Shit.

So anyway, THIS POST is actually a test. I want to see if they really read my past 50 or 60 posts. Jesus, I don't even know how many posts I have. No worries though, because they'll be sure to tell me that since I'm not a real writer, I'd be better off closing shop and deleting the 72+ posts I have.

But hey, that's just between you and I right now.

Cause.I.don't.think.they.can.read.all.the.shit.submitted.

I wanted to comment on some of their reviews. My promise is to do it after I get my ass "fucking torn apart" as they say. I don't need for them to cream in their pants around how I was trying to "kiss ass" in order to not get my own "ass torn".

And also, they fucking scare me. Yikes. I mean, how about that guy with the big eyebrow? Holy Mother of God. Of course, one lucky blog submitter landed herself a "guest reviewer", who was actually kind of nice. Well, she only tore up about half an ass that day. I would take half an ass tearing anyday from this group.

So as I impatiently wait to be blatantly torched in public, [even more so if they DO actually read this post], I just thought I'd play a game to see if they read just as much as they claim to. I seriously don't know HOW THE HELL they can. I've been keeping tabs for the last few months now, and I can hardly get through even one full post on most of the blogs submitted.

So for perseverance, AND the ability to send me to the corner of my room sucking my thumb in hiding at any given time, I give Ask And Ye Shall Receive this:

"Mommy Confessions" and Why I Need To Go Back to Work and Toss the Computer

2009-04-21T00:30:00.000-04:00

Have you seen or heard anything about the latest blogging rage called "Mommy Confessions"? I actually saw some of the bloggers and contributors on Oprah a few weeks ago who, thank F_*#%ing God, have finally convinced me I'm not the only mom around here that doesn't claim perfection.

And I'm sure as hell not about to link you up to it either, because my confessions are as good as theirs. And anyway, I've been admitting my faults for some time now, unlike others.

Got it?

So then it hit me... I think my entire blog is one F_%#ed Up Confession in general. I mean seriously, all day I've been asking myself, what the hell compels me to write about my husband's smelly taint? [For the record, smelly taint only came after an hour of hellish training at the gym].

But I've also never claimed to be a writer, especially one of substance. So what better else to do than steal the theme for my own personal blog content? Right?

A few personal confessions this week:

1. One of the hot dogs I was preparing for the kids dinner this weekend rolled across our entire kitchen floor, but because we had so many neighborhood brats over to eat, my husband gave me the look of approval and I swiftly lunged and grabbed that dog of dogs while quickly blowing lint off before serving.

2. I chose to serve the linty dog to my own child because I feared that in the small chance it rolled over an invisible pile of killer bacteria, I should have at least ensured it was my own kid that got sick. Right?

3. I'm embarrassed writing this because I think some of the people in my personal life now who read this will never trust in eating at my home again. But in all honesty, an "invisible pile of killer bacteria" could easily exist on our kitchen floor.

4. My daughters had their first experimentation with googling "bad" words. And let's just say that the conversation involved thorough explanation of why a woman shouldn't allow anyone else to straddle, lick or touch their own body parts because such behavior is not "respecting your own body".

5. My girls then decided to mimic certain contorted positions they seemed to have witnessed online while asking me what "respecting your own body" means.

6. I decided to give them a fudgsicle if we could just change the subject. And to be honest, I'm wondering if they learned those contorted positions online or if they actually just woke up late one night and we simply didn't hear them.

7. This story actually happened last year, but I'm confessing it today because my 6 year old typed "sex" in the search bar at my Moms office last week while she had them for a few hours. This obviously brought back memories.

8. Main reminder is the fact that I have still not loaded software to block inappropriate searches and sites, even though I swore I would last year after thinking my kids were traumatized forever.

9. My kids aren't traumatized. These little shits are just exposed to way more than we ever were growing up.

10. Through all this, I've learned the best way to stay on top of things is actively play truth or dare on the front porch with the neighborgood girls when asked, probing about kissing boys, going out, and who's cute in the world of elementary school. Makeyla, I'm calling your Mom.

And yes girls, I'm STILL trying to get that tree sap off my tongue.

Peace Out.

Grossest Thing My Husband Has Ever Said... Warning: Taint Involved

2009-04-20T08:32:00.010-04:00

I think I've mentioned before how my husband takes pride in his manscaping abilities - and actually I believe it was the topic of his first guest post a month or so back. Remember, the quick mention of "manscaping" and "pubes" that brought Blogger Stalker Ronald10021 out of the word works, and caused me to go into hiding for some time? But anyway, back to my man's pride around caring for his Netherland Region - it's rather quite rewarding, and something I have grown to appreciate.

Especially after yesterday.

Once a week, after hitting the gym together to train for a lethal hour of hell, we'll hit a tanning bed for 20 minutes of silence. We could hardly give a shit about getting a tan. But the additional 20 minutes of peace is totally worth the extra $10 in babysitting fees.

Yesterday, I think I heard the nastiest thing my husband's ever said to me as we were finished and walking out to our car:

Husband [Very Serious Tone] : "Damn, I turned the fan on, laid down and almost puked because the smell of my sweaty-ass Taint blew straight up to my face and in my mouth."

Silence.

BURST OUT UNCONTROLLABLE LAUGHTER...

Baby, let's make a pit stop:

Seriously Baby, aside from your old high school "stink finger" stories, I think this takes the cake.

'Taint kiddin'.

How I Almost Poisoned Our Neighborhood

2009-04-17T00:05:00.001-04:00

Mommy Tip #119:

When your child is admitted to the hospital for signs of "Moderate Poisoning" or "Early Symptoms of Acute Poisoning" which may include:

nausea, diarrhea, excessive saliva, stomach cramps, excessive perspiration, trembling, no muscle coordination, muscle twitches, extreme weakness, mental confusion, blurred vision, difficulty in breathing, cough, rapid pulse, flushed or yellow skin, and weeping...

NEVER ADMIT you were really TOO LAZY

to actually wash the damn sweatshirt.

Honey, Can you pull out the HOSE, please?
But damn, that grass is green.

I'M OUTTA HERE!

2009-04-16T10:56:00.003-04:00

Spring Break Activities at Home with 4 Kids as of Day 8 out of 12 ........ $229.

Hosting Sleepover with 2 Additional Neighborhood Brats ....... $45.

Receiving a phone call to interview for a job and having to leave town alone for 2 days in the midst of Spring Break Bullshit .......
PRICELESS.

Naked People in Gym Locker Rooms. WHY?

2009-04-10T23:10:00.008-04:00

Dear Naked Lady At My Gym,

I have simply one question for you.

WHY?

I mean, WHY, IN GOD'S NAME DO YOU STAND THERE F'n NAKED FOREVER, NOT DOING ANYTHING IN THE GYM LOCKER ROOM???? WHY???

I really can't take it anymore.

And the fact that you were STILL there staring at yourself in the bathroom mirrors when I exited the stall to wash my hands and had to BRUSH UP AGAINST YOUR GOD FOR SAKEN NAKED ASS to throw my paper towel away in the garbage can, is just.simply.beyond.me.

F'n.Beyond.Me.

Are you married to the Close-Talker man that hangs naked in the Men's room swinging his sac in front of my husband every so (too) often? Because if that's your husband, you might want to warn him that he's close to being neutered.

Graciously and Always Partly Covered,

Who's Anus?

2009-04-09T21:12:00.001-04:00

My 9 year old has proudly posted her recent science project on display.

My husband promised her he'd be adding to it while she's gone to spend Easter weekend with her Dad.

Check it out:

OK, take a closer look...

Tip for Step-Parents:

Do not alter step-child's solar system project to include a real anus.

For more Foto Friday Fiesta pictures, or to join the fun, go check out Candid Carrie.

Out of My Mind: Surviving School Breaks

2009-04-09T10:01:00.006-04:00

So my soon to be 7 year old lump of a daughter that has grown attached to my hip these days was taking a bath this morning and says while laughing:

"Mom, sometimes I feel like this isn't happening in my brain right now... giggle, giggle...".

My Response:

"Um, yes Sweetheart. Welcome to Mommy's World."

Spring Break starts today with 11 days off of school.

I will survive.

?
Not.

Ps... Click on over to my serious side... I'm today's contributor over at Real World: Venus vs. Mars.

Parenting Advice: How to handle "Annoying Kid" Habit of Non-Stop Talking

2009-04-07T09:23:00.005-04:00

Why Won't My "Annoying Kid" SHUT UP?

ANNOYING KID HABIT:

Do you have an Annoying Kid like me that literally CAN'T.STOP.FUCKING.TALKING? And I mean EVER? For some reason, ours doesn't understand the concept of "Thinking" versus "Speaking". If he's told to "Please Be Quiet..." he will turn to singing. Singing words. Singing sounds. Singing the alphabet. Singing Names. Singing "I love to Sing". Singing. Singing. Fucking. Singing.

BRILLIANT PARENT RESPONSE:

Just before your head is about to explode and you physically have to restrain either your spouse OR self from reaching around from the front seat of the car with arms grasping to rip Annoying Kid's head off... STOP, and simply explain:

"Annoying Kid, you need to understand that the conversation you are having with yourself right now is one that you should be having with your brain. Not with us. Did you know that normal people actually don't have to HEAR themselves talk all the time? Normal people actually have conversations with their brain. Without their mouth working. Not out loud. And this would be one of those times. Talk.To.Your.Fucking.Brain... NOW."

Stay tuned for more Brilliant Parenting Advice coming soon...

Dealing with "FEAR" and asking for HELP...

2009-04-06T00:05:00.002-04:00

Please say prayers for the families of all the victims

and those survivors of Friday's Binghamton, NY massacre.

***********************************************

As if the past week hasn't brought enough angst with it, I have today faced the reality that another serious problem has been following me around for several months now, and must come out in the open. It's time.

Do you know when something exists, yet the anxiety of just verbalizing it to anyone else consumes you as a being, because God forbid if you do so, it will become truthful?

I especially feel guilty for not being up front with my husband. I think he knows it's there. I've danced around the issue for some time. He can see my mood alter instantly out of the blue, yet I continue to wonder if he knows the exact reason behind my occasional outbursts.

Anger.

Frustration.

Fear.

Isolation.

I have a lump.

And no matter where I go, I can't escape the fact that it's there.

She weighs 48 pounds and is 3 months shy of turning 7.

My youngest daughter won't leave me the fuck alone, people!

HELP!

Anyone?

I CAN NOT CONTINUE THIS WAY.

14 Dead In My Hometown. Hug Your Family.

2009-04-03T22:45:00.006-04:00

It's been a horrid day.

Binghamton, NY is my home town. And today, I sat in my house alone.

My husband received the call to leave immediately.

My brother has been there from the start, as Executive Mayor.

My brother-in-law... it's his job.

And I sat. And my family sat. And so many families sat.

Waiting...

And while my family will be coming home, other people have not been so lucky.

My prayers go to all of these families.

And for our family friend who was teaching today in that very building...

We are all praying to hear something soon.

That's my husband in the bomb suit.

One Way To Show You Care About Your Box: COME VOTE!!!

2009-04-03T08:48:00.013-04:00

So, I was like "all honored" to get an e-mail in my box [not that box],

asking me to do an Eden Fantasies $50 gift-card giveaway...

And then, I see that this is the latest rage in blogging these days.
I've seen THREE in the past 3 weeks!

Reality sets in... I'm not so special.
However, $50 is $50.

And $50 can get someone a really nice gift of self lovin',

if you know what I'm saying???

So the question is:

SHOULD I HOST MY FIRST

EDEN FANTASY GIVE-AWAY,

even though they're spreading like wildflowers???

Let's take a Vote.

I'll leave it up on the side bar for a week,

and you guys help me decide, OK?

Voting will be open through 11:59 pm next Friday, April 10th!

And with that, I'll leave you with my husband's
favorite picture from our recent visit to Philadelphia.
These signs were EVERYWHERE.

He wants to make a t-shirt for me with the logo :

"DON'T BLOCK THE BOX!"

Now, go VOTE on the sidebar!

And don't forget, I'm a "serious" relationship contributor today
over at In The Real World: Venus vs. Mars!

Go Check it out!

Why don't we call a truce and jab one of those needles in my eye, please?

2009-04-02T00:05:00.000-04:00

Um, can I get a free pass?
Please?

My week just can't get any shittier.

(Anyone running any "Calamine Lotion" Giveaways?)

Co-pays for the 13 steroid lotions prescribed

for unexplainable itchy arms ....... $130

Zyrtec, Allegra double dose, Nasal sprays

and special skin cleanser ....... $123.22

Learning that while I'm allergic to 43/58 allergens,

RED WINE IS STILL A-OK! ........ Priceless!!

Ouch.

Soooo, about that calamine lotion?

Comment #15 Just Sent Me In Hiding

2009-03-31T23:59:00.005-04:00

Looking to follow yet ANOTHER blog site ... right?

hello??

Well, crap.

Someone's been tricked into asking me to contribute!

Seriously, go check out "In The Real World: Venus vs. Mars".

It's a new blog promoting thoughts and open discussion on adult relationships.

Note: It's kept on the clean side, so no "f" bombs from me over there. Promise.

I'm featured this Friday!!!

*****************************************************************************

I wanted to thank my husband for participating in Tattooed Minivan Mom's spouse/guest post yesterday.

What a doll he is, isn't he?

Do you see why we get along so well?

And while I'm anxious to jump back in and "post" away, the comments took a turn for the worse yesterday just around evening time, so I'm taking a break. If you'd like to check 'em out, knock your socks off. However, you'd be better off just takin' my word for it.

Now, I've already written an entire post about strange lurkers, but this guy just simply doesn't get it.
So today's his last day of fame on my board.

And while I'm too tired to creatively entertain all of you in my usual capacity, I felt I should at least share how I felt last night when reading comment #15:

Create your own FACEinHOLE

Guest Post from My Husband Today on the Benefits of "Manscaping"

2009-03-30T10:30:00.026-04:00

Yep, "Mark".

Sorry to all of Susan's loyal readers. My beautiful wife Susan's always funny daily thought is being interrupted today by my own guest post.

You can blame Susan and Tattooed Minivan Mom for this.

So go check out other Guest Posts over at

Tattooed Minivan Moms Guest/Spouse Post Link-Up.

********************************************************

THE IMPORTANCE OF MANSCAPING

While urinating in a public restroom this past weekend, I was reminded of one of the reasons why all men need to keep their lower region neatly trimmed [aka: "manscaping"].

After following the proper men's public restroom protocol,
(Rule #1: Always leave at least one empty urinal between you and the next closest urinator), I found an empty urinal and an imaginary spot on the wall, just above it (which is Rule #2).

Ladies, the "imaginary spot" is where we men look while urinating, never looking left or right out of fear of being caught checking out another guys' junk. (Yes, we are that insecure and are often secretly comparing ourselves.)

I then looked down in the the urinal to take careful aim, and there it was ...

Yep, that's a stray you see in there.

A Jumper.

And it's not mine.

I wasn't able to switch urinals (once again, see Rule #1 above), so I aimed and hosed that F'n thing down the drain to spare the next guy in line, and to make sure he didn't think "it" was left there by me.

I finished up and left disgusted, but proud knowing that I did not leave behind any strays.So Gentlemen please, keep it trimmed down there. Public restroom users will appreciate it.

Also Guys, always keep in mind... the other benefit of "manscaping":

"If you cut the grass short, the tree looks taller."

Part II: "How NOT Working Can Kill You"!

2009-03-29T14:21:00.008-04:00

[Click HERE for my original "How NOT working Can Kill You" post.]

Creating home-made dinners 7 nights a week ... $224

Gas for daily grocery store trips for forgotten menu items ... $37

Slicing 1/2 a Big Toe off with sharp-edged baking sheet ..."F"ing Priceless

Shit, My Kid is Just Like Me

2009-03-27T08:33:00.007-04:00

It's been a rough week here at the "Splendid Blended's". We've had all four kids for the past 8 days, and this chick is ready for her ADULT WEEKEND starting T-O-D-A-Y.

As usual, we had our weekly run in my husband's ex-wife, just like clock work. And I've been venting at night to my husband after all the kids are put to bed, in order to try and understand why this woman is so fucking crazy. Obviously, we'll just never figure that one out.

So during one of my nightly tirades I seem now to remember exclaiming something along the lines of how I could seriously "rip her eyes out". Oh, what joy that would bring.

I thought the kids were sleeping at the time I said this.

Obviously little Sydney wasn't.

Here's how I know:

This is my step-son's valentine's project he gave me which has been adorning our refrigerator for the past month. Do you see the pipe cleaner legs hanging?

Well, it used to have eye balls too. However, last night little Cooper obviously pissed off my youngest Sydney, and decided to "rip its eyes off" because Cooper made her made.

That's what she said, with the biggest, proudest smile this morning.

Shit.

Like Mother, Like Daughter.

Can I please just take a SHIT in private?

2009-03-24T12:31:00.006-04:00

Well, it was bound to happen at some point. And yesterday was the day.

I threw it out there. Big-Time. Right Pitch. Excellent Tone. 100% Fierce Attitude.

Yep, I dropped the "F-Bomb" for the first time to our entire gang of kids. And I feel like an ass.

And then there's my husband who continues to remind me as he laughs out loud that it wasn't just me "throwing out an F-bomb" that was so entertaining and hysterical, but it was the entire scene of watching me storm out of the bathroom at 70mph, screaming:

"I CAN'T EVEN TAKE A FUCKING 1 MINUTE SHIT WITHOUT ALL OF YOU GUYS FIGHTING AND CRYING OVER SOMETHING????"

Reaction was silence. And then giggles from behind me [adoring husband] and giggles in front of me [adoring four children whom I did not love so much yesterday morning] .

So, after fifteen minutes of calming down from everyone making fun of me, I apologized to each of our kids individually for my language.... and my sudden outburst. And they looked at me with no concern in the world before moving on in their day, with only the littlest one of a whopping 5 years whispering quietly yet sternly:

"Sue, you need to take a time out. Five minutes. Seriously."

Fuck. I just remembered the house rules we posted months ago, which include ALL family members... not just the kids. A-D-U-L-T-S too. That was my quote. [What the hell was I thinking to make such a big deal of equality in all the rule presentation bullshit back then? WTF???]

But then it hit me. Time out? As in alone time? By myself with no nagging children crying or bothering me for snacks or juice boxes or refereeing Wii turns or setting 15 minutes segments for each of them on the computer? Are you serious???!!!

I am now planning my next attack. And this time, for a full fledged grounding. All evening. Alone. In my room.

It will be hard to hold back from now on.

I can't wait.

Hair on your W-H-A-T???

2009-03-22T21:05:00.003-04:00

"Mom, I just want you to know that

I have H-A-I-R on my V-A-G-I-N-A."

Those are the words that were thrown at me approximately 45 minutes ago, in the bathroom during bedtime routine. My 9 year-old totally blindsided me.

And hey, I'm the mom that actually is trying to explain that "vulva" is really the appropriate term we should use instead of "vagina".

But sometimes you just aren't prepared.

So while I'm sure the nightly easel drawings will look something like this over the next few weeks:

I'm prepared to have a fuller discussion with my little one tomorrow.
And this is what it's going to be about:

My husband agrees that this "says it all". [Thanks baby for the advice.]

And by the way, I love having a vagina.

Hair and all.

Dealing with a "Narcissistic-Ex" Never Ends: An Open Letter

2009-03-20T10:49:00.006-04:00

Dear Narcissistic Ex-Wife of My Husband,

I would write this letter directly to you however I have learned in therapy that my response would only flatter you, no matter what words I included. I could call you a "self-centered Narcissistic Bitch who only thinks of herself" but I now know that you would interpret even the harshest attack of words as self-indulging. And because of that, I can not respond. We refuse to feed your supply which in turn continues the cycle of insults and attacks on your part.

Instead, I will say that it was joyous in attending your two boys' school event last night. Thank you so much for walking into the gym and "instructing" us that we would be taking little Cooper around for an assigned 25 minutes before meeting you center stage to then swap children. The teachers were very impressed by your initiative and leadership. You demonstrated take-charge skills and we are grateful you were there to have a plan already in place, as the Lord knows we are probably incapable to walk around a casual science and math fair without clear direction from you.

In addition, thank you for alienating the boys last night. While I would rather die a slow death than walk around with you for two hours at your own kid's school listening to you laugh and demonstrate your new iridescent green colored blackberry, it would have been fun for the boys to hang out together with the girls who accompanied us, particularly since all the activities were group related. Instead, Cooper and the girls had a blast while Spencer uncomfortably agreed to go with you and John alone, as instructed.

And then, when Spencer finally found us and ran as fast as a speeding bullet to jump on his Dad [30 minutes later than your demanded meeting time since you were no where to be found as we waited], you send your fiance in to "instruct" us that you are in the book fair and that Spencer needs to come and pick books out if he wants anything purchased? You can't let him enjoy 5 minutes with his Dad without sending Lurker Fiance who hovers over us, waits for us to follow his instructions, like we're retarded ass wipes who may not have understood the message that you were in the fucking Book fair Room? Could Spencer just watch the catapulting ball that he's been standing in line for? Please?

Finally, I am most grateful for your e-mail this morning, letting us know that the boys are in desperate need for haircuts (even though they've been with you for the last two weeks) and that if we wanted to take them while they're with us for the next 8 days, it would be great. However, the fact that you had to request we ensure they "only get trims" as you would like their hair "longer for your wedding which is coming up very soon", is hysterical.

My dear Narcissist, we could shave them bald this weekend and they would need several more trims before May 9th approaches. It's almost two fucking months away. So thank you for reminding us that you are getting married soon. Believe me. We know. Don't you remember the blown up, framed color engagement picture you sent here with the boys so they have a copy of it for our house too?

You're amazingly ridiculous. If you would put this much energy into figuring out your own personal issues, you'd have a great fucking chance of finding happiness in this world. I think your fiance was trying to befriend us last night. We actually felt sorry for him.

So there. I've vented. And I feel better. And if somehow you come across this, once again, you know me well enough. I wouldn't type anything out that I wouldn't say to your face. I have just learned that reacting to you feeds you. And it can either set you off like a crazy woman or make you cry and ask for tissues. So for now, this will have to do.

Sincerely,
Your Ex-Husband's Wife

What could be scarier than this???

2009-03-19T13:28:00.005-04:00

I'm scared.

And I'm kind of scared to write about what I'm scared of in the risk of embarrassing myself.

Two things are causing me great angst today.
And I'm just gonna let it out for the sake of self therapy.

FIRST:
The first sign of Spring presented itself to us today, walking down the school sidewalk this morning, as I accompanied my girls to the door in order to kiss them goodbye.

It rained last night and continued to do so this morning.

You could smell them.

Earthworms.

Fucking E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E.

You see, we couldn't even walk without tripping over our toes in order to dodge the masses that decided today was the day to come out of hiding. What started out with nervous laughter and girls screams and yells of "GROSS" and "EW, THEY'RE EVERYWHERE!", soon became an anxiety attack. I hate earthworms and I'm scared to pick the kids up today at 2:40pm. I will seriously puke. I hope they've dried up like prunes and died. Every single one of them.

SECOND:
Something on my dinner menu at least once a week. I must make the girls' favorite buns tonight. But I'll be damned if these particular buns don't scare the hell out of me. Almost as bad as earthworms.

Check em' out:

OK, so it's not the actual buns that have me going here.

Instead, it's the opening procedure of the vacuum packed dough that causes me to squirm in my seat as I type the words. Do you know what I'm talking about? The seal you need to break with the edge of a spoon, never knowing just when that explosion of air and dough will suddenly burst into your face, with the ever so small chance of it causing mass destruction in your actual kitchen? I simply can't take it.

Seriously.

Just writing about this shit makes me want to have a drink.

I have serious problems.

Mail Can Be FUN!

2009-03-18T08:19:00.008-04:00

OK, did you ever have a day where something stops you dead in your tracks and makes you wonder:

"Do I have a problem?"

[And no - I'm not talkin' about drinking too much red wine.]

This weekend, I was forced to think back about the content of some of my posts. I realize I've talked about my husband's male member at times - but all in fun - absolutely no "porn" twists to it or anything, right?

And then there was the time I suggested a website to those of you who haven't been introduced... do you remember??? Youporn? But THAT was a suggestion from a friend of mine, and see, I was just trying to share the wealth, people. Do you understand?

Ok, and THEN I quickly was brought back to the time I offered to show my boobs for some technical support... but if you read my entire post I actually ended it with "Just kiddin' baby"... which was directed to my husband, and was also implying to all my readers that I really wasn't actually prepared to show my real boobs.

K? You all following me here?

So when I entered one of my first online giveaways by Tattooed Minivan Mom for a $50 gift certificate to an online sex toy store... [I mean, come ON - who wouldn't want a couple of free sex toys, right???]... I started getting some rather empathetic e-mails from a long time follower... actually I think the first person I started following when I started this blog back in August. It was Dorsey. And she wanted to send me a goodie box since I didn't win the sex toy contest.

This blogging world is still all new to me. So when she asked me for my address via e-mail, I reminded her that my husband's a cop and if she was a stalker he'd literally beat the shit of her.

Nice response, right?

Because then I began thinking, what if Dorsey's blog is a big cover up???

I mean, all those videos and pics of her and her beautiful family could be fake. And then there is that thing about how she's so "real" in her writing... and how she posts all those old pics of herself from high school, you know? It could be anyone in those old pics, right??? And her real life journal entries from when she was sixteen? I mean, come on. ANYONE could do this, right?

And then it hit me. MAYBE, just MAYBE, it's her husband who blogs under her identity to secretly get innocent victim's home addresses so he can drive across the country to assault them.
Shit, my man's a cop, remember? I am suspicious of all people.

So this weekend, I get my goodie box. And here's what I got:

SOOOOOOO, if you know me well enough, I'm all over the paranoia shit.

Stalker or not, I'm keepin' it. And you know what they say... sometimes in life you gotta just take a chance, and roll the dice.

And I'll be rolling my sex dice each night this week thanks to Dorsey. Go check her out, and if you're nice, maybe she'll feel sorry for you too and send you something!

Thanks Dorsey!

Girls Weekend in Philly...

2009-03-17T10:16:00.008-04:00

Striking a Pose...

Dana Dane...

Katie Kate and Dana Dane...

Holy Crap No MAKEUP after SPA DAY...

Entertaining Ourselves While Katie Kate Disappears...

Katie Kate + Margaritas ...

Now, How Could We NOT take a picture here???

Here's a big shout out to my girl's...

I love you, Ladies!

"Bloating Stomach" & "Constipation": The drawbacks of being a woman

2009-03-16T07:59:00.004-04:00

Why is it that women usually get the short end of the stick when it comes to digestive systems. I mean come on people, I'm talking "shit habits" here.

I.Can't.Poop.

My husband eats like he plays pro-football and is continuously training for the Superbowl. And whatever he chooses to put in his body usually exits via sphincter canal within 7 minutes after meal completion.

Seven measly minutes, people.

Yet in the past 72 hours, I have consumed an easily estimated 4 bottles of wine, late night sushi, Mexican food and margaritas [I mean, come on - who the hell doesn't shit after MEXICAN??!!], chicken salad, calamari salad, water, water and more water, more wine and then an amazingly protein filled breakfast plus three mimosas at Sunday brunch.

And the only thing that has exited this body within the past 72 hours is an ever so growing wind tunnel of gas that seems to be building and brewing like no one in their right mind could or should be able to imagine.

Never mind the veggie lasagna last night.

So, my question is: Why in God's name do so many of us women get blessed with malfunctioning GI systems, while the men who would rather pack on a few pounds of bulk lose weight just from the amount of stairs they have to travel in a day to get to a fucking toilet before exploding 6 pounds of internal material each trip?

Life is not fair.
However, girl's weekend was totally worth the bloat.

I'll miss you family, but this Peep is Outta Here!

2009-03-12T21:22:00.007-04:00

I'm not sure what it was that made this week rather L-O-N-G.

Could it have been the two unemployment office "counseling" appointments I was forced to attend where I felt I had to haul ass from my car to the inside main lobby so I wouldn't be assaulted in the rancid neighborhood I was forced to drive to? Or maybe it was dealing with a cyber stalker who I believe would have loved to assault me no matter what I really look like, even though I do [thankfully] live 12 freaking states away.

All I can honestly say is: "It's been one L-O-N-G ass week."

And with that, I'm off Friday at noon to Philly for my annual girls weekend. And I can't wait.

From noon tomorrow through noon on Sunday I'll be in another world, talking nonstop, laughing uncontrollably and loving every minute of my girlfriends and their incredible stories that only they can tell in just the right way to ensure we all spit our drinks out simultaneously, while wiping away tears.

So this Friday I'm dedicating Candid Carrie's Friday Foto Fiesta to the Gang that I'm leaving behind.. even if it is just for 2 days...

Peace out to all my Peeps...

Momma needs a new pair of shoes...

And a very long spa day...

And a ton of red wine...

I Can't Take The Pressure, So Ladies & Gentlemen... My Boobs

2009-03-11T16:07:00.007-04:00

You followers are KILLIN' me.

How can I simply joke ONE LITTLE TIME that I'd show you my boobs

in exchange for some tech advice and suddenly this is all I hear about?

My GOD. You people are relentless. But I do love you.

Soooooo, today is the day.

I can not take the pressure any longer, so please,

for those of you at work right now, come back later. K?

DISCLAIMER:

INAPPROPRIATE PICTURE FOLLOWS BELOW!

Ladies & Gentlemen... Please meet my knockers:

[deep breath, crackin' the knuckles here, very nervous, ok... scroll down...]

.............

keep scrollin'....

............

lil' more....

.............

more.... more.....

.............

little further.....

..............

almost there....

HERE!!! :

BWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

HHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

HHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!

And by the way, I googled "funny boob pictures", and I'm not kidding, this was the first one.

And if you really want to know what my face looked like when I saw those things, it looked a little like this:

Except, I think I would have to pass on those boobs.

Yuck.

I hope you still come back.

xoxo

My Husband's A Cop, Asshole!

2009-03-11T07:59:00.003-04:00

Horny Lurkers... Back the fuck off, please.

Let's Clarify A Few Things Today:

1. I love my husband, and he reads every word of my blog and connected e-mails - and that's because this is our fun, personal blog.

2. I don't share him. He won't share me... [except for that Blonde mystery woman we fantasize about together, but that's a whole other topic].

3. I love to get new visitors to my blog - and I LOVE reading new comments - but look, when strangers start e-mailing me sudden, lengthy notes on wanting to see my boobs, asking me what types of sex-toys I have at home, there's a line that's been crossed in my mind.

So for you type of lurkers, go fucking lurk on some other female blogger who is as lame as you. Maybe if you'd pay some attention to your wife instead of advertising your anonymous need for infidelity, you'd get some.

To each their own. Just not my own, thanks.

Highschool Friends... Why I Love 'Em

2009-03-09T22:16:00.004-04:00

To my Gals at the Lost Dog Cafe:

I love you. I could go three years without seeing you and then get together as we did last night and just want to sit in the same spot for days. Not hours... Days.

PS... How the HELL did I miss out on limo sex night 5 years ago?? I am still devastated. Seriously. It's total bullshit.

Until next month,

xoxo

What's worse in my life of everyday CHAOS?

2009-03-08T00:01:00.000-05:00

Question of the Day?

What could cause me this much angst tonight?

a) Finding out my 9 year old daughter kicked a boy in the nuts while playing in our local McDonald's play place even though he was blocking all four of our kids in the suspended tunnel and shaking it uncontrollably while mocking them repeatedly;

b) Receiving two essay length e-mails from my husband's ex-wife about first, her thoughts on sports selections for their 2nd grader who you'd think at this moment was in his third year of high school making a life decision around scholarship selections; and second, how she still needs to "ponder" our request for her to not pay the little tyke unheard of monetary awards for simply completing basic homework assignments that all other kids need to do as a normal reading requirement in class;

c) Realizing on this Saturday evening - the 7th day in a row of having all four insane and bad ass kids with us who don't give a shit about anyone else but themselves - after getting home from a family birthday party of 20+ people where kids ruled the entire house and the temperature in the main room rose so high causing the need to pat formed sweat stain marks on my new shirt with tissues - that I am now home, walking to the wine cabinet and noticing we are completely out of red wine.

Duh.

Baby, unscrew the vodka.

This bitch needs a drink.

Does "EXTENZE" male enhancement drink really work?

2009-03-07T10:55:00.005-05:00

Have you ever seen those lame ass commercials for the male enhancement product called Extenze? We laugh every time we see one... our favorite joke we have is to order the actual "Extenze Energy Drinks" and have my husband walk into roll call one day at the police station, just nonchalantly chugging a can of it.

Hysterical.

And it was hysterical when one of my tiny Valentine's Day presents turned out to be the following:

[Oh honey, you REALLY don't need extension of any kind. I promise you that!]

So do you think the wine kicked in and we said,

"What the hell?"...

What do YOU think?:

Disclaimer: While I do not promote products on this site, I would like to say two things:

First, my husband does NOT require any type of male enhancement products what so ever...

(Feel better, sweetheart?)

And Second... Even if your husband possesses a bodacious and girtholicious member,

(which I am SURE he does), please, please... check this shit out anyway!

How To Handle Being Overqualified In A Job Search

2009-03-05T09:35:00.005-05:00

Dear Hiring Manager,

I would like to make this last plea in convincing you I am the absolute best candidate for your team. While I am excited that you find my past performance to be outstanding and my abilities to be above any other candidate you have interviewed to date, I am not willing to accept your hesitation in the fact that being "overqualified" means I will not be committed to stay with your company.

Please, all I ask of you is this:

Would you agree that I am also overqualified to attend 1st grade field trips, ride on yellow school buses with the pure entertainment of a huge fucking dried booger stuck to the bus seat where the group of girls I was responsible for at the time were sitting, and sit by smelly children [whom yes, I know, SOMEONE loves these children] who ensure their dirty [most likely scabey and lice infested] coat touches every inch of me as they take 30 minutes to get comfortable in a theatre seat?

I believe the answer is YES.
I am way to fucking overqualified for this.

But I am committed.

And I will continue to do this, for the love of my own child in supporting her class.

As I promise with passion I would remain committed to you.

In the meantime, I'll be dousing myself with hand sanitizer and Lysol, and helping school bus driver's flick dry boogers to ensure my own child isn't tempted in doing so herself.

Sincerely,
Overqualified and Oversanitized

God bless teachers.

My Husband and the Parkinson's Man and Why He Is Amazing

2009-03-03T00:01:00.000-05:00

There are so many sexy things about my husband. I love watching him do things around the house. He loves his tools, and can fix absolutely anything. And it's not like I ever have to ask him to do something in particular. Last weekend, we found him in the midst of tearing apart our rather new leather computer bench in the middle of the TV room. When I asked him what he was doing, he simply said he had heard me mention to the girls that the computer bench was flat and uncomfortable, so he was just going to fix it. His idea of fixing meant unstapling leather, measuring and cutting wood, and creating an amazing seat that we all keep commenting on. My idea of "fixing" would have revolved around heading out to just buy a new one.

Today, he's mounting our TV in the kitchen. I've been watching and he doesn't even notice. And his hands are one of the most sexiest hands I've ever seen...:

I'm not sure if it's the fact that he's a police officer of 14 years and that I've seen him at work in some unbelievable circumstances. I've heard about too many things I never knew existed in this country. I know that we are fortunate in so many aspects. He's seen more than many people would care to experience. Yet this, coupled with his unbelievable kindness and true respect of other people, makes him an amazing man.

Yesterday, as we were leaving my girls' soccer game, I realized I had picked up an extra trophy and had to run back inside before some 7 year old became emotionally distraught thinking their own trophy was stolen. My husband said he would get the car, and he'd pick me up at the front door in a few minutes. As I returned outside to wait for him, I suddenly saw an old man on the street corner crash down to the ground, watching and hearing his head impact the sidewalk as his cane flew into the road. My heart stopped. It was the loudest sound I've ever heard.

In the half a second I debated what to do - I immediately ran inside knowing that I wouldn't be able to handle the situation by myself, realizing I didn't have my phone on me. The slow pace and lack of concern from the employees at the local YMCA was nothing short of disturbing. I started yelling "PLEASE! I NEED HELP! A MAN HAS FALLEN AND HAS HIT HIS HEAD AND I THINK YOU SHOULD CALL 911!!"

A woman behind the desk slowly looked at me, then away, then slowly pointed to another gentleman behind a second desk on the other side of the lobby. As I commanded this man to assist me and bring a phone, I began to run outside filled with fear as to what I might find.

And what I saw, brought tears to my eyes.

It was my husband. Kneeling down in the street tending to the fallen man.

As Mark was pulling the car around, he saw the dropped man and jumped out to help. He was questioning him and examining his body before deciding whether he could move him without further injury. In minutes, we had 911 on its way, and God must have sensed what was happening as I know he was responsible for the medical resident who drove by at that very moment. My husband and this Resident were amazing.

The injured man I believe will be okay. He had a head contusion, was bleeding from scrapes on his hand, and was suffering from Parkinson's Disease. He had no family. He lived with friends almost 2 miles away and had been walking to one of the hospitals yet another mile from where we stood to visit a friend. He was 54. He looked at least 68. He currently had two broken ribs that occurred during his last fall. He falls regularly.

My husband held him in a safe position until the ambulance arrived. And to him, it was normal. It was no big deal, and this was what he or any passing person would do. He was just filled with kindness, concern and the natural sense and ability to help. His presence calmed me. His actions and eye contact spoke nothing less than "I'll handle it Sue, don't worry." To me, I think he is amazing.

And I can't stop thinking about the man.

Dear Old Parkinson's Man,

My heart and prayers go out to you. I hope you are okay, and I hope that in all of this you will receive appropriate medical attention not only for this fall, but to ensure your safety and well being from now on. Today you have reminded me that what I have done through work in the past 13 years is worth everything if it has helped at least one person in your condition.

Sincerely,

The Scared Blonde Who Really Did Run As Fast As She Could

PS... Happy Birthday, Baby. I am so grateful for the day you entered my life.

Sex Toy Blogger Contest - I want to WIN!

2009-03-02T09:58:00.010-05:00

Since I started my journey in this electronic black hole of communicating with pretty much total strangers, I've never been one to enter those daily blog contests you come across regularly that offer prizes like homemade items, gift cards, and product favorites. It's not that I'm against them or anything, I just seriously never took the time or really found something I've been in absolute need of.

Until Today.

Thanks to Tattooed Minivan Mom.

You see, there are some things worth stopping life for. And today, I would like to declare that SEX TOYS would be one of them.

Now before you go thinking we have swings hanging from our mirrored ceilings and all, I'd like to make it clear it's not THAT crazy here. But, who wouldn't want a chance to win a choice of scented SEX LUBE plus a $50 credit towards any purchase at all from Eden Fantasys?

[Dorsey I KNOW you'll be in on this one. Katie however, no need to hide in your basement... I'm not FORCING you to enter, OK???]

And while I want to be selfish and keep this contest a secret, I'm racking 3 extra entry points for sharing it through a post...

So go check it out NOW... you won't regret it! SEX TOY CONTEST LINK .

PS... I did choose to spare you a related photo for today's post due to sensitivity of content. There's a limit to what I feel comfortable with posting in pictures these days...

And Google results for "funny sex toys" were actually NOT.VERY.FUNNY.

They were downright scary.

MORE COWBELL by Will Farrell.... Not YOU BeeeYotch!

2009-03-01T08:55:00.004-05:00

More Cowbell!!!

Or should I say to the lady blocking my view at the hockey game last night:

PLEASE....NO MORE FUCKING COWBELL BeeeYOTCH!

You are SO NOT Will Farrell.

Now, enjoy our most favorite Will Farrell clip of all times:

Boobs In Exchange For Technical Support. Please Help!

2009-02-28T08:37:00.004-05:00

OK, I'm reaching out to my "tech" readers on a problem I still have when clicking on some of my favorite blogs.

For example, Mental Poo. Same thing with Swirl Girl.

Here's the title on the error page I get:

Error on page: "googleads.g.doubleclick.net..............................................." And then below this I usually get "Error 403" or "Error 400".

So, my assumption is that something in my own computer settings is blocking access to these sites, and I'm wondering if it has something to do with google ads????? If I access these sites from other computers, I can get through with no problems.

I've cleaned my cache and cookies under Internet Options.

Can ANYONE out there suggest something else??? I am in serious need of some mental poo.

I'll even post a picture of my boobs if someone can help me fix this issue.

Just kidding honey!

Dealing With A Narcissistic Ex When You Have Children

2009-02-27T07:01:00.006-05:00

[To those regular readers, my apologies for today's post. The following was a therapeutic cleanse and purge of my husband's ex-wife's inabilities to co-parent before entering this amazing weekend of NO CHILDREN.

All purging of ex-spouses must be complete by 4pm every Friday.]

I just don't understand how some peoples minds work. I started this blog almost 6 months ago for the sole purpose of having a place to vent. Aside from our amazing therapist and the infamous red wine, there are still times when my husband's narcissistic ex's behavior, words and attitude crashes into our lives like no one could believe. And because I have two beautiful step-sons that are so effected by the manipulation and sleek maneuvering of this woman, I am involved, disturbed and bothered regularly by how this person who calls herself a mother can put self image and personal satisfaction above everything else in her life.

Obviously, there's a long history of her behavior. But right now, in this moment, she is messing with our family. There is this tiny thing of an 8 year old at hand these days who is struggling in school a bit with attention issues and minor behavior mishaps. He's brighter than the average student, but doesn't apply himself. Most importantly in our eyes, his lack of motivation and continuous disturbances in class is now effecting him academically according to his teacher, and according to us, and it's time to intervene with some simple tactics, friendly reminders and work at home on spelling, writing and reading.

The same issue was brought to our attention last year, and we continued to stay in touch with his teacher. His mom rarely sees the problematic behaviors that either his teachers report or that we sometimes see here at our house. You know - the narcissist's "perfect world". It got to the point where the little booger mentioned feeling weird at times, having staring spells that would last a while, and said it was like he didn't remember where he was when they happened. So immediately, it was us that called his mom first, and then his pediatrician, who scheduled him for brain testing to rule out petite mal seizures.

Thank god, everything came back negative.

His teacher last year started a behavior modification chart. All got better, however this was towards the end of the year, so summer quickly came and that was the end of it. This year, with a new teacher, things seemed to be okay on his first report card. The only one parent/teacher conference that occurs each year was in November and my husband couldn't make it due to his ex scheduling it while he was working. Funny how when she needs something to benefit HER, she can recite his shift schedule out 9 months ahead if needed. He planned to schedule his own, but when asking for feedback on how her meeting was with this little guy's teacher, all was good. No concerns. Perfect. He's on his way.

That conference was November 16th, 2008.

This month, just over 3 full months later, we receive an email from his 1st grade teacher. There are still concerns around the issues that were discussed at conference in November. [Issues? What fucking issues?] The behavior has progressed, gotten worse to the point of disrupting class and others on a regular basis. His name is being spoken by her through out the day in class. And most importantly, his state reading test results aren't where they should be. In addition, the same troubling behavior is being noted in both music and art.

Immediately, my husband and I scheduled to meet with his teacher. This occurred yesterday for over an hour. The little tyke in question has been having some listening issues - nothing outright horrible, but the same lack of attentiveness that we dealt with last year for some time but more escalated, and his teacher feels at this point it's effecting him academically. Particularly in reading and writing.

So half of the conference was hearing about how all these concerns were expressed to his mother back in November. Details and examples were given, and there were steps that were suggested to work on. Normally, my husband will attend the once a year conference, but because she had scheduled it during a day and time he couldn't make it [she knows his schedule to the minute when it benefits HER], he relied on her feedback as to how the conference went.

Since it was obvious from the teacher's e-mail that we were not clued in on many of the concerns that were discussed at November conference with his ex, Mark simply requested a conference alone this time, letting his ex and the teacher know that just this time he'd appreciate us coming in alone so he can get caught up. He also knew that he wouldn't be able to get any of his questions or true concerns out with his ex there.

Here are the sad lessons of dealing with a narcissistic ex when it comes to your children:

1 You can not believe them. They live in a fantasy world and they will do whatever it takes to ensure the life they live is perceived by others as "perfect". Even to the extent of ignoring their own child's needs.

2. You can not reason with them. You will always be seen as "attacking" them. Always. No matter how you try to rationalize with them. If you are a supplier of their narcissistic energy, they feed off of you and the more you do this the more they win.

3. You can not co-parent with them without killing yourself and feeling like you continuously give in. As long as things in life are running "smooth", things with the narcissist are "smooth" and steady. But throw in a request for extra time with the kids, or an e-mail from one of their teachers, or the concern about an extracurricular activity that is over 60 miles away every fucking Saturday and WATCH THE FUCK OUT. Life with a narcissist is like walking on eggshells. And you must work hard every single day to keep them out of your life. Period.

4. No matter how hard you try, you look and feel like assholes to people in the public world. Kid's teachers. Athletic coaches. Parents of the children's friends. ASSHOLES because as hard as you try as a normal, rational thinker, the narcissist ALWAYS needs to up you one on things. They need to sign your kid up for a sport that you said was too far away for you to get to every other weekend but will still send the sports equipment each weekend so you look like the bad one to both your own child and the coach. They'll notify you about birthday parties the kids are invited to and then ask you every other day if you've RSVP'd because the parent of the child has been asking them, even though the RSVP date is 2 weeks away. They find out about school issues and don't notify you as the other parent who shares 50/50 custody, only to make you all look like assholes to the teacher who's main concern is that cute little booger sitting in class with her each day.

Now, even though I struggle with my own narcissistic ex-husband [my therapist thinks it so interesting how both Mark and I married the same type people in our past marriages], and care nothing for him at all on a personal level or the choices he makes in life, if I am EVER to get any feedback or concerns what so ever about my girls from their school, I call him immediately. Why would I not?

When my kids are considering a new sport activity locally, literally 5 minutes from here I will NEVER agree to their participation before speaking with their Dad. He should be part of the decision, especially when practice or games fall on his visitation time, even though his visits are only every other weekend.

How can a mother be so selfish? I can not understand it.

So after our meeting yesterday, my husband reached out via e-mail to his ex and said that he and the teacher had come up with some things we could all work on with Spencer to help him through this time and that he wanted to talk live to her today to discuss. Asking to talk on the phone for 5 minutes has turned into a half a day drama of emails where we've been accused of having a "secret agenda" and are "dictating" what needs to be done. She refuses to speak live until she meets with the teacher next week now.

And all we wanted to talk about was some suggestions the teacher said we could implement, like insisting on books come home with him from school, taking time to work on utilizing spelling words in full sentences, and possibly letting him go to the local bookstore to pick out a few new "fun" books to read on a regular basis at home with each of us.

Dictate?

Secret Agenda?

Like we have time for any fucking agenda, let alone a secret one that requires planning and plotting. Pu-leeeeeeeeease.

How can your kid not be important enough to just talk to his Dad about what he's learned? How can you be too busy? How come you refused to respond to the teacher's e-mail to meet in person over 2 weeks ago, even when we copied you on the simple fact that just this one time Mark would appreciate a one on one since he wasn't included in November conference? Why didn't you respond or reach out 3 days ago when we reminded you to schedule something with Robin this week if you wanted to, as we forwarded her concern that she hadn't heard from you?

My dear, I KNOW why. I always KNOW where you're coming from. It's a game Mark and I play, you know, when anything like this comes up. I can call your responses out every single time. I can call what your "defense" will be. I know what your thinking is behind it all. I can sense your fear that we've once again learned about your incapability to share pertinent information. I can taste the hatred that consumes you when Mark actually takes an active role in the boys lives on a regular basis. I can see the internal tantrum going on as you feel control over the boys slip away, as these are the absolute only two objects you can manipulate control over in my husband's life. I witness how you don't set boundaries. I am home with your kids those 7 and 8 day stretches when you never call. I'm the one who has probably inappropriately but in desperation reached out to you telling you that your boys just miss you at times and a phone call from you would be helpful to them in the evenings. I KNOW.

And it makes me sick.

So continue to live in your surreal world of perfection. I hate to break the news to you that it is so far from perfect and many around you know it. But you'll continue to live in it because that's the only way you can survive the misery inside you. And that is how we continue to deal with you when it comes to the kids. Pure, outright pity.

In the meantime, we'll be copying you on the weekly feedback Robin sends on the little guy's progress. We'll be requiring he reports at least 2 books per week. We so wanted to let you know that we are going to insist he bring his books home with him at night so we can take the time to read with him. We will be instituting a fun way to work on his writing - did you know his "p" placement is a big issue? And while he does good on his spelling test, he is not applying these words later on when writing sentences in "edit" sessions. We also thought it would be good to take him to Barnes and Noble on occasion vs. buying him a 17th set of $60 sneakers to have him pick out books of interest. The teacher thought this would help balance his need to realize that while some reading can be fun, other reading is simply required.

We know when you'll be ready to talk. When you've calculated your own plan. You HATE the fact that we take a stand and are active in the kids lives. You HATE that we care to do better.

YOU.JUST.HATE.

And I hate you for that.

Regretfully,

How does Obama's speech get me thinking about shower curtains and baby oil?

2009-02-25T09:30:00.008-05:00

So after a full day of cleaning kid puke and watching hours and hours and hours and hours, oh - sorry - and hours of Nickelodeon cartoons I finally got the kids to sleep and realized a stranger of a man sitting on the exact couch I had secretly planned to curl up on in order to temporarily die.

Holy shit, I forgot I actually have a husband. These days, I am past the point of sanity and have entered a world of chaos infested with puke bacteria that just won't die. I would totally suck as a full-time stay at home mom. God bless all of you that do this on a regular basis. I had a 30 minute conversation with my mom asking her how in God's name could people not only stay home, but institute home schooling as well. Are they insane? Are they serious? Or am I literally just a ruthless selfish bitch of a mother craving coital activity with my manly husband more than once a week?

[Did you like that world coital? I LOVE that word. It reminds me of how my mom might refer to "sex" if she could ever talk out loud about such a subject.]

So, I'm trying to get back to the point of this dreadful post [please people, my kid is home sick yet again today and I just yelled at her that if she's sick but not puking chunks than she's well enough to sit on the damn couch alone because Mommy has a lot of important shit to do like attempting lame blog posts and googling tips on how not to insult lame ass interviewers as I obviously did last week]...

As I snuggled into that hot thing of a man on the infamous "death" couch I was talking about, we prepared ourselves to watch Obama. This is how in sync we are, which is scary. At about 9:28, about 10-15 minutes into Obama's actual speech, Mark's spoken words were literally the exact thoughts going through my mind:

"That fucking line underneath the word "TO" keeps disappearing every so often. It's driving me CRAZY."

silence.

Holy shit. I couldn't even say anything, because I swear I was thinking the EXACT same thing.

Never mind this recession that has cut our household income by like 6+ digits, and never mind Obama's plan to create new jobs, implement tax cuts or improve education in this country for our kids... the monitor's caption of the President's speech was all we could pay attention to. For those of you who were probably listening to what Obama was actually saying, here's what I'm referring to:

The light cuts into it a bit, but the word "to" had an underline, which after careful monitoring and timing by counting "One Mississippi, two Mississippi..." [a minimum of 3-4 times to ensure accuracy], would disappear every 10 seconds. Suddenly it would flash back on the screen and cause the two of us to initiate the counting once again. A simple validation that the two of us are total lame asses. Especially because we thought it was funnier than shit.

So that's where my ability to self entertain is these days. I feel trapped in a house where all I can do is continue to spray Lysol in the hopes that I dare not pick up this bug to ruin the upcoming weekend where all kids retreat to their other parents homes. 48+ hours of total peace. Whoo Hoo baby. Remember that shower curtain and baby oil?

That's all I'm sayin'.

The Four Words a Mom Hates To Hear

2009-02-24T06:45:00.006-05:00

I feel guilty for my recent absence. While I have several posts brewing in draft mode, I haven't been successful in google results to add that "perfect photo" for a few of them which to me, seems to tie things all together.

Today would be different she thought to herself. She created a list of to-do things and was ready to tackle the day. And then it happened.

6:21 am: The bedroom door bursts open, as she attempts to pry open one eyelid...

and then, she hears those four fucking words every mom dreads hearing from a child...

"MOM. I'M. GONNA. PUKE."

So here begins her day, with this being all I got for a post. A lousy excuse as to why I hope to be here bright and cheery tomorrow.

A new day.

Cheers.

Why my husband and I are 'almost' brilliant and at the same time still exhausted.

2009-02-22T11:17:00.007-05:00

This past week was pure exhausting. And while I'm not so sure that the kids' mid-winter school break set me off to the point of running to my local Target to apply as an hourly cashier, whatever one might consider to be one level away from that pretty much says how I "just barely" managed.

After 7 days at home with four munchkins [intertwined with a surprise interview mid-week, which basically put me over the edge] my husband and I pulled out that infamous can of Whoop-Ass 101 that we've been practicing with. This is something we save for dyer emergencies, and if asked about early on Saturday morning, my response would have been that we are "absolute genius".

I decided to take some time away from blogging, while my husband and I kicked our feet back and watched TV while snacking on chocolates and wine as the rest of the gang proceeded to execute Whoop-Ass 101 drills.

Take a look:

OK. So I lied.

While these are actual photos of our real children, I would like to notify any parent taking Whoop-Ass 101 drills into consideration that THIS IS NOT RELAXING.

And it does not give you any free time. It only triples the time that normal cleaning would take you alone, and is filled with turn-taking, arguments about who gets to mop, clean windows and vacuum while all that really results are streaked windows, dirty paper towels being dropped throughout your entire house and moldings covered in blue and red window paint from being inappropriately doused with too much water.

So while I would like to blog more creatively today, I can't because I will be spending the entire day cleaning up Whoop-Ass.

Shit.

How NOT Working Can Kill You

2009-02-18T21:33:00.005-05:00

Trip to Howes Caverns... $122

Babysitter to make last minute job interview today... $45
Gas to fill tank... $37
Passing out from exhaustion after putting kids to bed... Priceless.

Promise to be back at commenting real soon!

Who are you people and where is my family?

2009-02-17T17:25:00.008-05:00

So, it's February break here in New York State which basically means to hell with parents who usually have other things going on in their lives, as most do any other week of the year. Fortunately as a new "unemployed" victim of only 2 weeks now, I have the wonderful opportunity to be locked up with four "can't-do-anything-on-my-own-but-tattletale" kids this week. Hoo - fucking - Rah.

Oh, and did I mention my gorgeous and entertaining husband

is home til 2:30 each day to help out?

See, here is basically what my morning consisted of:

My Husband, In Character...

And if you didn't notice, that's supposed to be a character sticking out his tongue with a scarf around its neck... don't you see the black eyes and nose? Do you get it now? No???

So then of course: Like Father, Like Son

And God forbid my youngest doesn't jump right in... here ya go:

Yeah, they are on the top stair mocking an entire play

upside down. This went on for almost an hour.

I repeat: Send. Help. Now. P.L.E.A.S.E.

PS...just got a call tonight around 5:30 to drive an hour and a half tomorrow for a 4pm interview - just after we promised the kids to take them on a tour of Howes caverns located an hour and a half in the OPPOSITE direction of my interview destination. Driving, hiking, driving, suit on, driving, interviewing, driving.

Shit. My life sucks. Royally.

A Message From Your Local Broadcasting System

2009-02-17T13:12:00.005-05:00

******************************

We would like to take this time to interrupt our normal blogging station to report a massive disturbance on this sites regular publication...

******************************

School's out for a week,

and we have been infested by FOUR 2-legged boogers,

ages 5 -9.

Please.

Send.

Help.

NOW.

Best Pirate Joke and Why I love my Husband

2009-02-15T11:24:00.004-05:00

This is in honor of my husband. And this is why I love him.
For the past week, he's proudly been telling a new joke he heard on the TV series "My Name is Earl". He laughs harder each time he tells it, which makes it impossible not to roll your eyes and keep a straight face.

This weekend, we were wandering through Home Goods and my husband disappeared. When I turned around to call his name, this is what I saw:

Here's his joke:

A pirate walks into a bar with a ship's wheel sticking out of the fly of his pants.

Bartender says, "Hey Man, you have a ship's wheel sticking out of your pants."

Pirate Replies [cue pirate accent here for full effect]: "Arrrrrrrgh , I know. It's driving me nuts."

PS... he's laughing as I read this to him...... Men.

Love you baby. xo

Stoned Kid After Dentist - YOU MUST WATCH THIS!

2009-02-13T08:16:00.001-05:00

Since I haven't figured out how the hell to attach a you-tube video,

I'm attaching the below link for your viewing pleasure.

If you have kids or know anyone that does, you have got to watch this.

It's absolutely hysterical. I seriously never laughed so hard.

Stoned kid after visiting dentist.

Happy Friday.

Click HERE

Now go join in on the fun over at Candid Carrie's Friday Foto Fiesta.

Room Parent Etiquette and Why I Want to Kill You

2009-02-12T07:39:00.004-05:00

Dear Mother of K.P. in my daughter's 1st Grade Class,

I obviously know you have emotional issues as you refuse to call me back after leaving a message around us working better together on future parties. I realize for many it is difficult to have an adult conversation. Some parents are incapable of this and choose to ignore and retreat to their own little world, and obviously you fall into this class. Therefore, I will send you this letter, hoping that somehow it reaches you, so we can nip this in the bud once and for fucking all.

My thoughts [aside from wanting to kill you] :

1. Usually when one parent tells another not-so-excited-but-felt-guilty-because-absolutely-no-one-else-volunteered room parent that she wants "NOTHING TO DO WITH CALLING OTHER PARENTS BUT IS HAPPY TO SEND IN PARTY ITEMS" means exactly just that. And usually, when a teacher calls that not-so-excited room parent at the beginning of the year to thank her for volunteering while emphasizing that K.P.'s mom doesn't wish to be "in charge" of organizing events but is willing to help send items in, once again, to normal people it simply means just that.

2. I should have known something was not right when I called you the first time asking if you had any ideas on how you would prefer we work together on these parties and all you could answer was "I REFUSE TO EVER SEND CHEESE AND CRACKERS IN BECAUSE I DID THAT LAST YEAR AND ALL THE KIDS HATED IT." [For future reference, probably not worth allowing a bunch of smelly, germ-infested 6 year olds get the best of you, k?]

3. You did not want to be communicated to by e-mail with the rest of us, so I have attempted to call you prior to each and every party. Why the fuck is it that you make up your own party rules and send in pretty much 100% of list items to the teacher a month ahead of time without calling the other three moms to simply communicate this?

K.P.'s Mom

4. Do you realize that we could literally give a rats ass if you'd like to be Supermom Room Parent this year as we actually work and have more important things to do like shop and blog about how people like you bug the fucking shit out of us? Believe it or not, we could care less about baking homemade cookies, buying lame ass items for goodie bags which will just be thrown out later, and aren't really into undermining other class moms who simply just want to help make a teacher's life a tad bit easier. Knock your fucking socks off bitch, but god forbid, just tell us so we're not wasting our precious time e-mailing, coordinating and purchasing shit that's no longer needed because you have made the decision to do everything on your own through "notes" only to the teacher.

5. Did you know that being a room parent usually means "helping" a teacher's life become just a tad bit easier? Reducing work load? Minimizing responsibility so she can concentrate on more important things? Cooperating and coordinating among other parents? Do you know what synergistic effects are? Do you know that room parents who attend parties but stand directly next to only their child the entire time without making contact with anyone else are fucking also called "dead-beat room parents"? Why don't you help pour some fucking juice, or help with hand sanitizer or actually pretend to care by listening and chatting with the regular 7 or 8 kids who gravitate to any adults pant legs each and every party craving even the slightest amount of attention because they obviously don't get it at home?

6. I have ruled out physical handicap on your part. I actually thought you might be deaf. Especially after you hung up on me after calling you about the Christmas party simply to let you know that since the teacher e-mailed me to say you had already sent in 6 of the needed items, the other 3 of us would be taking care of what was left. Why did that piss you off? Seriously? Why couldn't you just say "Great, no problem. Thanks Sue."

7. Your false act of naivety around room parenting experience was blown when you got into that argument with the cafeteria worker at Thanksgiving Feast over your harvest themed confetti you so much wanted to sprinkle all over the table "since the kids absolutely loved it last year". Seriously, do you really think the kids would give a rats ass if there was "harvest" themed confetti on the fucking table when the main conversation that day was around which kid got to help scoop the runny mashed potatoes to their classmates? And the way that cafeteria worker looked at you and stood her ground only goes to show that you did NOT stay to sweep after last year's feast and instead left their school cafeteria floor to be infested with confetti for months to follow.

So now that I feel just a little better, I am not looking forward to helping with my own kid's party this Friday because you can not be an adult and deal with this issue. I am sorry to say that I have had it up to here with getting e-mails from the teacher telling me what K.P.'s mom sent in, and how K.P.'s mom wants to bake the same cookies I so responsibly and proudly already ordered from Sam's Club, and how K.P.'s mom is wondering this or is wondering fucking that. Are you kidding me? Grow up bitch. Get a fucking job so that you can concentrate on something else other than annoying the shit out of your poor little kids' teachers. Or simply take charge for the rest of the year, and leave me out of it, or tell me what to send in. But do not play these games with me. You will fucking regret it. B'YOTCH.

Cheers,

S.N.'s Mom

A Cushion's Replacement: Haiku Attempt

2009-02-11T09:20:00.007-05:00

Trusty, reliable, lofty friend.

Hooks on a wall

always your home.
Divorce. Oh no.

No place to keep you.

Left you behind.
How sad.

Hooks are forgotten.

No place for you now.
Rest now in the mud and snow.

Good bye friend.

PS...my husband is attempting to fill his void of "Cushion Photography" during his hour drive in commuting his boys to school each morning during their time with us.

This is his attempt.

And while his Haiku does not fit the exact 17 syllable, 3 line format, I am extremely proud of his attempt. I love you, baby. Even without your ladder.

COITUS INTERRUPTOUS: Why NOT to let a gypsy into your home.

2009-02-11T08:07:00.005-05:00

Dear Eldest Daughter of Just 9:

I feel compelled to write this letter to you. I am torn between sadness and empathy for you and outright selfishness at this time. I realize a parent's job is to comfort and console their child at times of fear, and I also realize our job is to act as a "teacher". However, Mom fucked up and while I offered an apology and tried to use what happened last night as a teaching lesson for all of us, there is no reason you needed to wake up 17 times and cry that you were petrified that the "gypsies" would come back. Especially in the midst of the heated sex session that was just under way in your mom and step-dad's locked bedroom.

Yes, mommy has always taught you "Never Talk To Strangers", and even more importantly, "NEVER Let A Stranger Into Your Home". However in the midst of all the chaos in the house which was filled with almost a million people at the time, including your step dad the police officer and several other big, burly men including your Uncle "H", Mommy fell for the Gypsy's pitch. Can you give your mom a fucking break please and get over it? Believe me, I couldn't help to notice how as I opened the front door you questionably clung to my shirt sleeve in curiosity and nervousness, but how could Mommy not listen to a genuine lady's new business premier and miss this one time special for a free carpet cleaning in the room of my choice at 7:30 at night? I mean, ALL the neighbors are doing it, right? Didn't you SEE that list of handwritten names and phone numbers she flashed in front of me for a split millionth of a second? Jeese.

And no, Mommy should NOT have allowed her to "peek" at the fibrous content of that particular carpet while the other strange man accompanying her stood still and silent on the front porch with hands in pockets. How was I supposed to know she would push herself into our home, sit down on the TV room couch and act as if she was my long-lost cousin? And while I sensed your blood pressure reach its maximum level as my stern voice became an outright yell to this stranger that she 'needed to get out of our house immediately and that I was absolutely not comfortable with all of this', I'm still not so sure it was traumatizing enough to cause you to cry all night in fear that the gypsy and her sidekick would return and rob us blind. I mean, come on. Who the hell is that gullible?

And I can't imagine that knowing your step-dad is a police officer and watching him "transform" into his work role at that same very split second he heard me call out to him in the loudest "get your ass down here now because we're about to be assaulted by a gypsy stranger" voice from the front hall would cause you any alarm. And then, to worry about your Uncle who proceeded to follow them outside while turning back and saying "lock the door" could be in any way unsettling to you. My dear child, please understand that you are 9 years old and you should be more concerned that our Wii drum set has a broken wire like the rest of the clan instead of drumming up violent images of what might happen in the midst of darkness while most are sleeping or having passionate hot sex while the gypsies are creeping down our streets in order to execute their crime of choice. P-a-L-E-A-S-E.

So while I would like to once again offer a sincere apology for not setting such a good example to you, I would also like to say that if you don't fucking sleep through the night this evening I will tie you to your bunk and do a bunch of other things I can't even think of at this moment because I am so tired. So there. And now, I'm off to knock the socks off that step-dad of yours, as he was so rudely deprived last night, which in our eyes is Simply.Not.Acceptable.

Love,
Mommy
xo

You Never Know Who Reads Your Blog...and that's half the fun of it!

2009-02-09T08:40:00.008-05:00

BREAKING NEWS!

FOUR SEASONS CUSHION SERIES NOW DISCONTINUED!

We apologize to our customers, but due to unforeseen circumstances, we will no longer be able to offer this photo special.

Do you remember the recent post entitled "My Husband, The Artiste",

and his photo project of the infamous

"Cushion over the ex-wife's front porch"?

Well after only 2 weeks of publicly posting this information, the cushion has mysteriously been removed after almost 6 months of public display. We are disheartened and apologize sincerely to those expressing interest.

Thanks to all who expressed their true patronage and support.

And always remember, you never know who reads your blog.

Hello YELLOW. What color should your blog be?

2009-02-08T08:54:00.010-05:00

This is a fun, very short 5 question quiz that tells you what YOUR blog color should be. Thanks Stacie for sharing.

[I probably wouldn't have posted mine if it wasn't so appealing but hey, what the hell. This is MY blog, right?!]

Here's what MY results said:

Your Blog Should Be Yellow.

You're a cheerful, upbeat blogger who tends to make everyone laugh [only because you can throw the "F" bomb out more naturally than Ludacris on a street corner in downtown LA at 3am].

You are a great storyteller, and the first to post the latest funny link [as long as it's NOT a topic you'd see posted on the normal mommy blogger networking sites and it totally humilates yourself or another member of your immediate family].

You're also friendly and welcoming to everyone who comments on your blog [Except that one girl from SITS that bashed you on your admittedly open post about how you were a blog snob. Don't fret, no one's perfect.]

What Color Should YOUR Blog Be?

Check it out.

Interviewing...Damn it I got me another one

2009-02-08T07:57:00.004-05:00

Well, thanks to all of you offering advice and good wishes last week as I mentioned I had a big interview on Wednesday. And while I made it the hour drive to get to the hotel conference room about 35 minutes prior to appointment time, I had woken up that morning accompanied by a 102 degree fever and horrid migraine headache that I thought would be the end of me for sure. Looking back now, I think it was the perfect "natural nerve reducer" and allowed me to talk at normal speed and not produce nervous armpit bullet sweat stains like I normally would in such a situation.

So after being asked the infamous "Why our Company?" question and the even more obvious "What should we pick YOU for this position?", I was told that I would be invited back for the next step in "the process". My god, sometimes I just wonder who created all these "processes" to begin with, and more so, why is it that I am finding myself being a part of any of this bullshit anyway? And then rational thinking kicks in, and I realize that if I'd like to choose between eating lettuce and pasta for the next 12 months vs. steak and pork loin, the answer is pretty damn obvious.

So, I've covered company research, and will obviously continue to do so. I've worked for days preparing a "Performance Portfolio" and presented each interviewer with their own copy as I walked them through page by page, highlighting achievements and successes. I rattled off questions regarding company pipeline, regional challenges, brand vs. generic, payer potential and reimbursement challenges. I clarified their needs in a sales person before closing the sale.

So now that research and preparedness have luckily paid off in round 1, I'm wondering what tricks I can possibly resort to for round 2? Fifty percent of the candidates are internal, fifty percent external. I sent my thank you e-mail and got a nice response that I'd be hearing back shortly on our next meeting. Any thoughts on what to do next?

Do I bring in a presentation screaming:

Or does it seem more appropriate to focus on my presence, such as adorning an item like:

Anyone got me some creative suggestions on what I could possibly do to "wow 'em" again?

This girls is determined to eat steak again within the next 6 weeks!

Life Is Too Short Not To Share...

Narcissistic Ex-Wife Self Help Book - Any takers?

The Role of being a "Step-Mom" seems to be empty these days...

The BEST Strategy in Dealing with a Narcissist

Another Jab from my Stepsons' Narcissistic Mother

The Meaning of Fabric ... what I learned on the Therapist's Couch

The Life Cycle of Blogs... and other things no less

Sex Education and the Questions That Follow

When is it TOO MUCH? Another Reason I Loathe My Husbands EX...

Step Parenting Sucks... sometimes

Dealing with the "Narcissistic Ex" - Holiday Advice

What It Takes to Make U.S. News

Halloween Hell

My Daughter is pulling her eyelashes out and my therapist thinks I'm crazy

Determining Your Purpose in Life

The Color of Crack is Quite Scary

The natural color of ASS

An Innocent Murder... times two

How Do I Remove Hovering Text Ads? HELP!

It's An Acorn, Damn It!

The Woman Who Rose From the Dead

A Spiky Boot Up My Tender Ass...

Elevated Man... We want to be you when we grow up

OCD is obviously hereditary. Shit.

Another Ode to my husband's Ex-Wife and why I hate you

Activities for kids while Mom travels so I can go back to being a sarcastic ASS

Happy Birthday, Sydney!

How to Crush Your Kid's Lemonade Stand Dreams

Who IS THIS WOMAN and how do I kill her?

A Little Bit Of Luck... thank god my head's not that big!

Pardon my absence...

Jealousy, Sex and the 70 Year Old Owner of our Future House

Hot Mama, WHAT?

Susan Boyle, Me and my OCD Child

A Letter to our Orthodontist

BRACE Yourself When You See THIS!

Let's Just Add One More Piece of Shit to My Life

To Work or Blog... that is the question.

From the Mouth of a 5 Year Old

Free Family Entertainment at Target

Flip This... The death of a fish

A Cop With A Camera...it's safe to speed now, my friends

The Legal Bitches of #*&^%##@* County

Source of Swine Flu Identified

Survival Tips for Blended Families (or anyone with children)

My Child's Love Affair with Sunscreen

Parenting Advice: How To Know When To Bathe Your Kid

Upcoming Ass Tear from "Ask and Ye Shall Receive"

"Mommy Confessions" and Why I Need To Go Back to Work and Toss the Computer

Grossest Thing My Husband Has Ever Said... Warning: Taint Involved

How I Almost Poisoned Our Neighborhood

I'M OUTTA HERE!

Naked People in Gym Locker Rooms. WHY?

Who's Anus?

Out of My Mind: Surviving School Breaks

Parenting Advice: How to handle "Annoying Kid" Habit of Non-Stop Talking

Dealing with "FEAR" and asking for HELP...

14 Dead In My Hometown. Hug Your Family.

One Way To Show You Care About Your Box: COME VOTE!!!

Why don't we call a truce and jab one of those needles in my eye, please?

Comment #15 Just Sent Me In Hiding

Guest Post from My Husband Today on the Benefits of "Manscaping"

Part II: "How NOT Working Can Kill You"!

Shit, My Kid is Just Like Me

Can I please just take a SHIT in private?

Hair on your W-H-A-T???

Dealing with a "Narcissistic-Ex" Never Ends: An Open Letter

What could be scarier than this???

Mail Can Be FUN!

Girls Weekend in Philly...

"Bloating Stomach" & "Constipation": The drawbacks of being a woman

I'll miss you family, but this Peep is Outta Here!

I Can't Take The Pressure, So Ladies & Gentlemen... My Boobs

My Husband's A Cop, Asshole!

Highschool Friends... Why I Love 'Em

What's worse in my life of everyday CHAOS?

Does "EXTENZE" male enhancement drink really work?

How To Handle Being Overqualified In A Job Search

My Husband and the Parkinson's Man and Why He Is Amazing

Sex Toy Blogger Contest - I want to WIN!

The Legal Bitches of #&^%##@ County