Thursday, August 18, 2011

Dear Family...I want a Divorce!

My family irritates the living shit out of me.  I really have no idea how in the name of all that is holy that I came out half way normal.  I really don't.

There's my Dad.  The racist.  Who for the most part is easy going and laid back and just doesn't give a shit in general.

There's my mom.  The hypochondriac, racist and all around crazy bitch.

Then there is my sister the narcissist and my brother the drug addict.

See, you're thinking that my propensity to overindulge in vodka libations is well earned now aren't you?

So...this weekend is my niece's (drug addict's daughter) birthday.  They are having her party at my sister's house because she has a pool.   My mom calls me this afternoon telling me she will pick us up on Saturday.  I was a little perplexed and said "I thought The Narcissist was picking up the boys." <---that was last I had heard about the party.

My mom proceeds to go off about me not taking The Toddler to the party.  It's a pool party, she'll have fun, blah, blah, blah.  Now, I had already told The Narcissist that I wouldn't be bringing The Toddler because she has out of control eczema.  It's all flared up right now and she is broken out from the top of her neck to the tips of her feet.  The pool water?  Yeah....that's exactly what she needs, something else to irritate her skin and dry it out even more.  I decided to keep her at home, rather than take her to the party because the heat and sun only exacerbate the itchy dry skin, and it isn't fair to her to see all the other children playing in the water when she can't get in.

So now, I'm the bad guy?  WTF?  I mean, they just can't imagine why I am not going to come and at least let her play with the other kids.  It's just awful that I would miss my niece's party.  I'm a monster mom because I won't take her in the pool.  I'm the worst Aunt ever because I am not going.  Why don't I just take her to a new specialist about her skin already?  Blah, blah, blah.

I am so pissed I could spit nails.  We have tried every effin' cream, ointment, herbal remedy, oatmeal bath products, oil this, hazelwood necklace that.  It really bothers me because my baby is miserable ALL THE FUCKING TIME and then I am a monster because I might miss a pool party to save her additional irritation?

It's official.  I am divorcing my family.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Something in the milk ain't clean....

The title of this post is just something ridiculous that my husband says all the time.  I don't even know what that means really, but I felt it was appropriate for this rant!  Yes!  I said RANT!

Now, I wish I had taken a picture the other day when I was at Wal*Mart, but I think I was just so shocked that I couldn't believe my eyes.  I went to grab a couple of gallons of milk and I got to the refrigerated case at the back of our local Super Wal*mart and I seriously just stood there staring!  I looked at my sister and she knew before I even said, "WHAT THE FUCK?" that I was going to lose my mind.

In each and every single milk case was a spot for Hershey's Chocolate syrup.  EACH CASE.  EACH SHELF.  FULL SUGAR.  CHOCOLATE SYRUP!  It was with the whole milk, the 2% milk, the 1% milk, the FAT FREE MILK.  I can't even tell you how upset I was.  THANK GOD I didn't have my kids with me.

Now, I appreciate Hershey's right to market and pay Wal*Mart to take that shelf space.  Truly I do.  Hershey's is a wonderful company and I also appreciate all their charitable work.  It's not lost on me.  Not at all.  However, we have an epidemic of obesity in this country.    That's not a statement for shock or awe factor, that is true and undeniable FACT.

I don't understand why everyone thinks that kids won't drink milk without some syrupy sugary crap in it.  That's not to say for a fun treat now and then I don't give my kids a chocolate milk.  I have done that.  However, they don't need it in school.  They definitely don't need it every day.

Why must everything be overdone?  Overindulged in?  Over marketed?  C'mon people!  And Wal*Mart?   You suck for taking that marketing money and allowing all that space for chocolate in the milk case.  Someone needs to bitch slap you!

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Lies Suck!

Few things in this world bother me more than liars.  Perhaps it's from my mother instilling at a young age that I would get in more trouble for lying than if I came clean and just owned up to whatever it was I felt needed to be shrouded in a lie.  It's possible that it just comes from being the worst liar ever.  It may be that I tell the truth and expect the same courtesy in return.  Whatever the reason, compulsive lies make my blood boil.

I can usually spot a lie a mile away.  I have a stupid sick memory and remember most everything I am told by others.  That makes it rough for people who lie on a regular basis because I remember the first time they relay events, compare it to the second time they retell their story.  I can usually even pick out where actual events stop and the embellishment begins.  The best lies are the ones that are based in fact, but for some reason, people feel the need to make a specific set of events more glamorous than they were, more dramatic, more traumatic.

I've always said my life is crazy enough, I damn sure don't to add more drama to make it sound more crazy.  Plus, I think that people who lie, are lacking self esteem.  They make shit up because they want to fit in.  They want to seem more exciting than they are.  They feel inadequate and think others will like them better if they pretend to be something they are not.  Here's the thing with that though, if you have to lie to get people to like you, then do they like YOU?  I don't think so.

I guess what prompted this post was a conversation amongst my best gal pals yesterday.  We discussed the end of a relationship and the beginning of a new life, a better life and leaving behind a liar of the worst kind.  While we were chatting up the situation some words came to mind that I thought I would share.

A future with you is what I see,
a future for us, just you and me.

We planned it out and shared our hearts,
but unbeknownst to me you were playing a part.

As time went on there were signs that you were unkind,
but as they say love is blind.

Eventually the ignorance some say is bliss
becomes too much to just dismiss.

Too much time has passed me by,
I have things to do before I die.

I will not share moments precious and few,
with someone who's heart isn't pure and true.

For in my heart is a promise of truth,
instilled from the innocence of youth.

As time passes by and I learn the lessons of life,
I choose to take them without additional strife.

I wish you well as we part ways,
remember this in your final days.

Life is full of promise if you look to see
not if you look for things that will never be.

I start anew with a song in my heart,
I'll share it in truth from the very start.

With one who chooses to share with me,
the truth of each moment of what will be.

Remember to live life to the fullest.  Just cherish the truth in every moment.  It really is enough at the end of the day.  Living a lie will never make you happy!

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Because I said so and that's just the way it is!

I have always been tenacious.  I know, you all are shocked.  When I was little, according to my mother, the term most used to describe me was precocious.   You know, that doesn’t sound bad, when you break down the actual definition.

1. (of a child) Having developed certain abilities or proclivities at an earlier age than usual.
2. (of behavior or ability) Indicative of such development

However, when people use that word to describe a child, usually there’s a certain…um…connotation indicative of that being a bad thing.  They don’t know how to describe your child as overly exuberant politely, so they wince just barely enough for you to see it (you know around the eyes, or a slight crinkle in the nose as they look down it at you).  They smile and say “She/He is so *insert pause as they struggle for the right wrong word* precocious.”  They add a slight lilt to their voice and a soft chuckle or giggle and think that makes the insult sweeter.

I was willful and headstrong.  I had to try things, not take for granted that what anyone said was factual.  My mom and dad used to joke with each other that they needed to stay up late at night to read encyclopedias (aging myself there no?) to keep up with me.   I had to know everything.

As a child having an insatiable thirst for answers and knowledge, carries with it a distain for anyone saying “Because I said so” or “That’s just the way it is”.  You want to know “WHY?”  In addition to wanting to know why, that seems to be the question you ask more than any other.  As a child, it’s just what you have to ask.  As an adult, it’s THE most annoying and often dreaded question ever.

I said more times than I can recall growing up that I would never use those answers as a parent.  I loathed those responses.  I wanted and needed to know why the answer was no.  “Because I said so” was not an answer as far as I was concerned, it was a cop out.  The answer was flippant.  I asked questions in earnest and wanted a respectful answer.  An answer that meant my question was heard, considered and replied to appropriately.  That is not to say that I wouldn’t accept "no" as an answer.  I did.  I did often.  I just wanted a reason why the answer was "no".  Some validation, but "no" was acceptable.

The good Lord, in all his infinite wisdom has seen fit to bless me with the opportunity to learn many things as an adult and as a parent.  Among those things is patience and humility.  Neither of those were my strong suit prior to having children.  He has a sense of humor too.  Oh. Yes. He. Does! 

For all my smarts and intellect, I am sometimes a REALLY slow learner.  In order to teach me patience each one of my children came more headstrong than the last.   My youngest son was sent to teach me humility.  My mom laughs at me daily when I share with her my plight in parenting a gifted ADHD child who asks “why?” at every turn.  My toddler has more attitude than any child I have ever met.  She is smart, demanding and apparently here to teach me that I have not yet mastered patience or become humble enough.

Perhaps this is His way of saying "Because I said so" and "That's just the way it is."

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Emotional Terrorism is evil genius at work

I have an odd sense of humor.  CLEARLY.  My husband has the same sense of humor, most of the time.  I asked him tonight on the way to dinner if he wanted to be John Dick on my blog.  To which he responded "Huh?"  I giggled a little and said, "Well, I'm Jane Bitch, I guess that makes you John Dick.  You know, were like Jane Doe and John Doe, but more like DOH (channeling my inner Homer Simpson)!"  We both laughed.  What?  It was funny.

I told him we could amp it up even more and he could be Dicktastic Daddy.  He liked John Dick better.  Later after dinner he said he wanted to be referred to as EG.  EG stands for Evil Genius.  Which is brilliant.  He is an evil genius.

It amuses my darling evil genius to no end to let people assume he doesn't know anything, about anything.  Not that he pretends to be Forrest Gump, he doesn't.  We just have a lot of friends and family members who have God complexes.  You know those people who know everything about everything, and have to educate the rest of the world on their supreme awesomeness?  So he just let's those people tell him how to do things and he watches them revel in their narcissism. 

The thing about that is, when you sit back and allow those people to show you just how much they know??  You end up getting all sorts of benefits. 

Let me enlighten you:

Mention to FRIENDKNOWSALOT that just replaced his deck that you're thinking of redoing yours.  Said friend says, he'll come over and help.  FREE LABOR.

Mention to FRIENDONEUPPER that owns every tool you are too cheap to purchase, that you're thinking of purchasing the better, newer, faster model of said tool.  FRIENDONEUPPER will run out and purchase said shiny new tool and give you their hand-me-down-there-was-nothing-wrong-with-it tools to show you their awesomeness.  FREE TOOLS.

Mention to FAMILYMEMBERKNOWSITALL that has perfect parenting skills that you can't get Baby Doh! to do *insert any suck the life outta you parenting task here*.   FMKIA will say give them to me for a week, they'll be all fixed up.  SCORE!  FREE BABYSITTER. 


But wait, there's addition to all the FREE stuff??  People don't ask you to do *insert any shitty I'll sucker my friend into helping me task* either.

Additionally, never ever ever....EVER...cross him.  There are no words to describe the emotional terrorist I live with when he's been crossed.

So what say you all?  John Dick?  Dicktastic Daddy (which we'll shorten to DD), or EG aka Evil Genius?

Thursday, April 14, 2011

World meet Bitchtastic Mommy

Welcome to my undercover mothah of a blog. 

Do you ever feel like you just want to BITCHSLAP everyone?  No?  Just me?

I thought maybe I should define what Bitchtastic Mommy means.  It means I'm a mommy, but I am not only a mommy.  It means I don't fit into the stereotypical Mommy mold.  Not by any stretch of the imagination.  I don't obsess over typical childhood milestones.  I've never read a parenting magazine, book or the like.  I don't worry about too much tv time or too little imagination stimuli.  I don't think my children are going to be crippled for life if they don't get into THE preschool all the other moms put their embryos on waiting lists for, and I think that kind of obsessing is in fact, RIDICULOUS.

I laugh when little kids swear.  What?  It's funny

I laugh out loud when other people's children say totally inappropriate things in public.  You know, those things that make you want to crawl under the nearest building?  Yeah, that is funny shit.  You know, when it happens to someone else.

I take great pleasure in knowing that I'm not the only one when I see someone else take off running after their screaming holy effing terror at Walmart.

I don't send thank you cards for birthday gifts.  I don't sign my kids names to cards when they can't read or write.  I say thank you at the party.  It's not that I don't appreciate the gift.  I do.  However, I threw a bash, I invited you, I fed and watered you.  Yeah....enough said.

I could spout forever on this, but I want to hear from others.  Are you stereotypical or unconventional?   Obsessive or Laid-Back?

You can say anything here and we won't think less of you...well, maybe we will, but we want to hear it anyway.  So spill it, tell me what inappropriate thing do you love to see kids do, or other mom's suffer through?