Birthday Hoedown at the Ponderosa

Picture this if you will:

Me in my driveway.

Make-up - impeccable. Hair - wet and wild. Dressed in nothing but a robe. Slurs are being uttered, insults flung, anger peaks and my big red button signal blares. I lift my arms, extending both hands, creating impossibly proportioned and balanced "bird" fingers. Then I open my mouth and scream wildly - "FUCK YOU!"

Now, for the rest of the story...

My day started out great. Spent time with the family, decided at 2:00pm. to get ready to go out with hubs and kids for pizza and possibly a movie. Approx 2:35pm my Mother, Sister, and 18 month old niece arrive with a gift for me. I thank them, we talk. My oldest daughter begins to complain that she, "wants to go with granny". This behavior persists. My Mother notices rash on daughter, says she will "take her to the clinic". I give the okay BUT insist I must talk to Jimbo first.

I go down the stairs and the hubs says, "No, if our daughter is going to an unknown clinic, we need to take her ourselves." I tell him I will tell my Mother no. He sighs and says "forget about it." I tell him again I will tell her no and he says, "No, your Mother will only do what she wants to anyway."

My Mother hears this and proceeds down the stairs.

An argument erupts, Jimbo remains seated and tells my Mother to leave. She doesn't. I take my niece from her arms and tell my husband and Mom to take it outside. He asks her to leave again, she doesn't. She begins insulting Jimbo, calling him a "control freak" and other insulting and reprehensible things. He reacts as she intended, stands and walks to her. I turn away, watching the argument unfold from the reflection of the television screen.

My Mother lunges at my husband and he reacts defensively, throwing out his hands to grasp her shoulders. She falls to the ground and I spin at the same time, averting my eyes from the screen and searching for her directly, worried that she's hurt herself.

Then I see it.

My Mother is staring at me with this expression of pure terror and violation - wanting me to believe that my husband is responsible for her accident, insinuating that he hit her. Jimbo backs away, hands raised, yelling all the while, "I didn't touch her!" even though I know he didn't, even as I know he didn't do anything wrong. My Mother continues staring at me, waiting for me to react, to lash out at Jimbo.

What I say next wipes that victimized look from her face.

"Mother, he never touched you. I was watching everything from the reflection of the television."

She lurches to her feet in outrage, stomping up the stairs. My sister hollers "where is my baby!" I hurry up the stairs and say, "she is here", handing her over. My Mother whips around, raging at me for not defending her against my husband. When I tell her directly that he never touched her she admits she tripped, but then proceeds to say, "but he had no right to touch me!"

As if her striking him was an appropriate response and defending himself was abhorrent.

As I go into the kitchen, my Mother and sister lash out. I walk forward, toward the door. My sister's swing misses me - barely. I argue with them and tell them to leave. My sister comes at me again, only to retreat after a solid kick has sent me into the dining room, "I have my baby in my arms, Jaime!"

They go into the garage, rushing outside. "We'll see you in court", my Mother says. Then my sister calls me worthless, a pill head, a piece of shit sister and daughter that cares more for her husband and his family than she does her own. Then she threatens me with DHR.

"I'm calling DHR, you just wait!"

My threshold breaks. My very own sister is throwing my biggest fear into my face - the future of my children.

And she knows it.

My body heats and I lose my collective shit. I lift my hands, let the winged angels fly, and scream, "FUCK YOU!". Then I inform my sister I need to change into my clothes, but if she wants a piece of my action, I'll be right down in a minute.

She calls me a coward as she slides into my Mother's car with her infant in tow and she and my Mother blessedly leave my home.

My birthday was shit and it's not the first one my toxic family has ruined. But you know what I've decided?

It's the last.

P.S. I called the police and filed a report. I won't take this shit. Not anymore.

Internet Woes and Sloppy Children = Annoyed Mommy

I have had it with this PC. It's the biggest piece of junk and I solemnly swear to all you fellow bloggers as soon as I replace this P.O.S. (read between the lines, its rhymes with Please Don't Hit) I'm taking this hard drive out into the drive way and having a good old time, Office Space style. Right now I cannot access my email without it crashing. It lets me read the email but when I begin to create mail or attempt to send it out...well it just locks up and I have to reboot.

So to my fellow blogger who emailed me, I will write back, please bear with me.

Now to the children - and my intense desire to rip each individual hair out of my head by the roots.

My days have stared off badly due to simple sleeping arrangements aka my sleeping on the couch. Annabel simply will not sleep through the night when I am in the room and right now, I cannot place her with Arwen because I'd never get any sleep at all (Arwen is a night owl that won't go to bed, we are working to resolve that issue too, just one of many).

So I wake up less than refreshed and usually pretty cranky, then I deal with these gems that make me want to take a nose dive off the Mommy train.

Arwen - staying up all night (waiting until we are in bed to get up and play). She's been waking up later and later, until the final straw came Saturday. She normally plays in her room and we'd noticed she was unusually quiet, not even getting up for any cereal. I guess she must have been up all night because when I went to check on her, she was still asleep...at 1pm in the afternoon. Since then she's been given an early 6:30am wake up each and everyday.

Vincent - still refuses to potty train and is having severe temperamental issues. He thrashes and throws himself around, not pretty.

Logan - is finally potty trained but hasn't figured out the concept of how to put his clothing back on. I've tried and tried showing him how it works and unless he keeps his shorts on when he potties I'm running up the stairs to help him dress. There is nothing better than when I've just sat down to eat and I have to stand up to go wipe a rear, maybe that would explain my lack of appetite.

Then there is the collaborative effort by all of them to make the biggest messes the world has ever known. They remind me of tornado's touching down in my house that leave debris all over the place. At first I would pick the messes up, having them help. But recently it's become constant and I'm always picking up something.

Then today the boys woke early from their nap while I was cleaning the basement. I heard a boom and went upstairs (got to love the "boom" that signals trouble) and I found all of them, in Arwen's closet, her clothes all over the floor.

I don't know how I managed not to lose my shit. Instead I calmly told Arwen she has two options. She can clean her room and rehang her clothes OR I could take them to goodwill and she could get by this first semester in her old stuff.

I'm reaching a breaking point with my children and their total lack of respect for their belongings. I shoulder a huge portion of the blame. If I hadn't bought so much junk that they honestly don't need, I wouldn't have to worry about cleaning it now.

If this keeps up, I am cleaning house and throwing everything I see into the trashcan.

Me V/S Pappaw : 4th of July Smackdown

I can't believe I only remembered this today to share with the blogosphere. But at least I did recall what transpired between myself and my Pappaw aka my Dad's Father on the 4th.

We arrived early, around 11am. The kids immediately ran to the playroom and settled in. Shortly after my cousin arrived with his brood (another 4 children) which meant there were 8 children in all running around wildly. Jimbo and I stayed inside to supervise but after an hour or so I decided to take a walk outside to visit. It figures as soon as I did Vincent would take note and come along with me.

So I get outside and Vincent bounds off the porch to the playset. I'm talking to my Father, Pappaw, Nana (his wife), my cousin and my new uncle (by marriage). All is right with the world until I hear Vincent's cry. I know the cry very well, it's his "pain" cry. I turn to see he's hit his head on the corner of the wooden stairs. Obviously it hurts.

"Come here Vince." I soothe and reach out to him. He limps over to me as he also tripped after hitting his head and hit his shin.

"Momma," he whimpers as he walks into my arms.

As I'm comforting my child Pappaw says:

"Tell that boy to suck it up."

I look up slowly, hoping he is joking but the look in his eyes tell me he is most definitely not.

"What? Suck it up? Are you kidding?" I say.

"He's a boy, he needs to suck it up and shake it off." He stares at Vincent with the oddest expression and I feel that Lioness roar up inside me.

"Well you know what?" I say back hotly. "He doesn't have to suck up shit and do you know why? Because I'm his Momma and I will suck it up for him!"

We stare for a moment before I stand up with Vincent in my arms and go back inside. Once there I hurry to Jimbo to bitch and rant. I'm so furious I'm shaking. How dare this old fart tell my 3 year old to suck it up? He's just a kid! Jimbo is shocked and when I tell my Mom she is livid. I spend the rest of the day avoiding Pappaw until he's about to leave. As if he knows I'm still angry he hugs me and tries to make small talk. I'm polite as he is my Grandfather but I'm still angry. He leaves and sadly I know deep down my opinion of him has changed, quite possibly forever.

Want to know the incredibly funny part of all of this? My Grandfather and Grandmother left my Dad and his siblings when they were just little babies (my children's ages). They were raised by my Mammaw instead, I still remember the grief my Dad experienced when she passed. It's the only time I've ever seen him cry. So forgive me if I don't take parenting instructions from someone who never had it in him to parent.

Virus

I'm currently writing this from the kids computer because my own PC has a HUGE virus. I was so excited about the new book in the Twilight series, moreso the first chapter from the book due in August, Breaking Dawn. I'd already ordered the book from Amazon.com but since I'm impaitent did a google search to try and locate the chapter.

I found it but it also appears I found something else, A BIG FAT TROJAN. Warning to anyone looking online for the first chapter, beware. My hard drive has pretty much crashed and burned. So be careful.

It's what I get for being impatient. Lesson learned.

When did I become the expert??

This morning as I was running my ass off chasing children (too bad it doesn't appear enough to keep the junk in my trunk at bay) the phone rang. I weaved through my children to answer it.

"Hellloo?"

"Jaime? Oh my god, Justice just fell out of the bed what do I do??" I recognize my sisters voice.

"Where is she?"

"She's right here," she answers. "I'm holding her."

"She's not crying??"

"No, she did when it happened."

"When did it happen?"

"Maybe 30 minutes ago. I was sleeping with her on the bed and she rolled out of it. She fell between the dresser and the bed. She's got a tiny bump about the size of a dime on the side of her head. Do you think she's ok? Should I call the doctor? Can I drive up there and let you take a look at her?"

"You didn't call the doctor??"

"No...her pupils are fine..."

"Why?" I'm beyond myself. "If she fell and you are worried why not call the doctor??"

"Can't they take her away from me?" I hear the fear in her voice and remind myself she's not new to this but her oldest child is now 8 and it's been awhile for her.

"Listen to me. They won't take her from you. It was an accident. You fell asleep and this kind of thing happens all the time. But if you think she could be hurt, NEVER...EVER...wait to call the doctor. In fact, call him now. I'm sure she is fine, if it happened 30 minutes ago but you can never be to sure."

"Ok, I'll call him now," she promises.

"Call me and let me know what's going on when you can please. Ok?"

"Ok."

We hang up.

10:30pm The phone rings.

"Hello?"

In the background I hear Justice screaming like crazy.

"Jaime? Justice just threw up and she won't stop crying. Do you think it's from hitting her head earlier?"

"Did you call the doctor?"

"Yes I did, the nurse said to keep an eye on her. But should we take her to the hospital?" The baby is still squalling.

"Call the doctor again."

"I just did," I hear the baby settling down. "She threw up on me, I don't know what is wrong. I know she doesn't feel that great because she has that ear infection. We made sure to go and get a bed guard so she won't fall out again and she was fine but now she's crying."

"She has an ear infection?" My sister is a pack a day smoker, her fiance smokes 2 packs per day.

"Yeah, they gave her an antibiotic and she was on it a week and it didn't clear it up so they put her on a new one."

"Please tell me you and Craig are not smoking around her. If you are smoking you have to change your clothing, smoke causes ear infections in babies."

"We do not smoke around her." Her voice is harsh and I can tell I've pissed her off. They probably already got this from the pediatrician.

"Ok, well...maybe the new antibiotic is upsetting her tummy..."

"But we gave that to her early this morning!"

This conversation goes on for several minutes before I convince her that she needs to call her doctor. We hang up the phone and as I type this she never did call me back.

This is one of the more frustrating things about my relationship with my sister. I love my nieces and I worry about them. I used to make myself sick with worry over Zoe when I had to stop babysitting her. But I learned to distance myself because there was nothing I could do and all the worrying in the world wouldn't change anything.

I know bad things happen to the best of people. I also know that Justice falling off the bed was an accident. But hearing that baby scream from her throbbing ears full of infection and knowing they've been told (by me repeatedly) that cigarette smoke causes it...it pisses me off.

On a positive note, after today I'm finally on the summer scoreboard!

Summer Scoreboard:

Kids=2
Mom=1

Am I asking too much?

Every single time my Mother gets any of my children it kills her to stay put at home with them. Instead she wants to put them in the car and drive around here and there. She claims this is because she needs something, wants to get something and then tells me I need to chill out.

This is starting to cause a rift between my husband and I. He’s fed up with it. Each time Mom gets the kids (namely Arwen) I tell her beforehand to get her shopping done so Arwen won’t be out traveling the roads. Yet each and every time my Mom is out riding around with my child in tow, completely ignoring my requests.

I just called to check on my daughter and guess what? They were in the car, on the way to the store.

Maybe it’s not a big thing. Maybe I’m being too strict. But it’s the simple fact my Mom refuses to listen to my wishes when it comes to my children. She just says she’ll do what I ask and then the moment the kids are in her car she does whatever she wants to do. I told her this is a dangerous holiday weekend to be on the roads. Each time she places my daughter into the car to make the long trip into town she increases the chances of placing her in harms way. But she ignores me and does whatever she wants to, who am I but Arwen’s Mother anyway.

I have to do something about this. If only for the problems it is causing in my marriage. My husband is one of the most passive people you will ever meet but he hates my Mother with a passion. When she pulls this crap he turns to me to control the situation and when I can’t he lashes out.

Maybe I should say to hell with it and let him have a go at her. That might provide the desired result. But I worry it might also cause severe damage and it’s the only reason I’ve tried to mediate for so long.

I’ve always known my Mom is manic. She gets so pissed when I tell her this but it’s true. For years I’ve watched as she went from severe high’s and would get ideas into her head that she wouldn’t rest until she completed to her severe lows when she would turn on a dime and lash out at you, sometimes physically. She is always unstable. Everything is about her and her needs and wants.

She loves to repeat things over and over to people, as if it might make her believe them herself.

“My grandbabies love me so much!” she tells people repeatedly. “They just LOVE me.”

Maybe it’s petty but each time she says this now my skin begins to crawl. She loves to place an unnecessary competition for the love of my children between her and I. She seems to achieve perverse pleasure on drilling it into my head that they love her so much more than anyone else, including me. And as I sit there in silence she just repeats the same thing over and over and over again.

I don’t know what to do. I just don’t.

What they wouldn't Give

The letter I was to write is no more. Samuel has decided he doesn't want to see his Father after all. He's come to realize this man has left him through out his entire life and it would serve no purpose to speak with him. He says the only thing he's thankful for when it comes to his Father is, "that he gave me life".

I struggle to understand this man. I can't contemplate how a person wouldn't want to at least speak to their own flesh and blood. After all, he was a part of his life when he was smaller. But after Jo died he just stopped coming around. The only reminder of his existence being the monthly child support checks that he was chased down for and forced to pay each month via automatic withdraw.

There are people who would give anything to have the opportunity to speak just once with their child. There are others who would sacrifice their soul for one last day with their son or daughter. Yet here is this man who is totally unmoved by the needs of his son and can't even take the time to make a simple phone call.

Animal Cruelty = Art?

Guillermo Habacuc Vargas do you recognize that name?

This idiot paid two children for a dog which he placed into his art museum, tied to the wall, without food or water until the dog eventually died. Then he had the nerve to call it art.

But wait, it gets better. Someone from a different gallery has asked him to do another exhibit like the first with another dog and there is a petition online to stop it from occurring. You can find it HERE.

Verdict

When I got to the doctor this morning I felt something hard next to Annabel's leg in the car seat. When I pulled her out to see what it was. It was none other than our cordless telephone that I'd placed in her lap to set on the charger.

That should be an indication of how great my day is going.

I have the shingles. The doctor didn't have to look at me long to give the diagnosis. Too bad for me my doctor is tired of dealing with the nursing v/s medications game. I got a shot of steroids, some samples to rid myself of this mess and nothing else. I was somewhat shocked because it's painful and I'd been told by everyone not to fret, he would give me something for the pain. When I asked why I wasn't receiving anything I was pretty much told he gives a shot of Toradol for pain and that as I'm nursing I can't get it. I'm guessing here that a prescription to tide me over for a couple of days is too much to ask.

I'm so over this Doctor. He's always kind of rubbed me the wrong way but today was the final straw. I realize physicians have drug seekers coming in all the time but how many of them have an active case of shingles to make their case?

This makes me wonder what it will take for this man to have some compassion. In any event, I'm on the mend but the burning, itching, stinging and throbbing pain isn't going away anytime soon.

It could be worse.

There is always ONE

Today was the company picnic for the children at the park. We piled up all the kiddos and headed out this morning, excited because for the first time all the children (minus Annabel of course) would be able to grasp the concept.

We arrived early and found the age group locations. Each space is marked by a large sign posted into the ground and each section is blocked off with yellow plastic strings. Each group takes a turn, going from the 0-2 group then the 3-4 year olds then the 5-6 group and finally the 7-10 year olds.

First the boys went. Logan made my heart ache. Instead of hogging any eggs I watched as he would pick up eggs and the hand them to nearby children. One Mother said, "he is so sweet". I nodded and was filled with pride. He truly is a wonder. Vince did great too. No pushing or rushing. He would grab as he found and smiled in delight. They didn't make off with too many things but they had a great time and soon we waited for Arwen.

We moved outside the yellow string to wait when I bent over to grab Vincent's hand. I felt a painful stab on my head and a loud voice followed saying, "My BAD!" I looked into the face of a very large woman, we'll call her Bertha. I told her no problem and quickly moved next to Arwen to get some pictures.

The announcer told the 5-6 year olds to get ready and began going over the rules.

"Please don't direct your children or help them in this area, everyone is old enough in this group to hunt alone" she said. And that's when it happened, Bertha began 'coaching' her daughter.

"Ok hunny, you just grab ALL those eggs. You hurry and get them all, you find that PRIZE egg!" She started pointing in areas in the marked off section. "Look, there is one over there and over there too, look under all the grass, don't rush or you'll miss them!"

The announcer gave the green and off the children went. Arwen ran to and fro and I tried to snap pictures and ignore Bertha in my right ear, screaming to look here and there.

"OVER HERE, THERE IS ONE OVER HERE!" she gestured to the area in front of us. "LOOK! IT'S GREEN, OVER HERE!"

Meanwhile Logan saw a piece of candy laying on the ground. Not only do they put out eggs but they throw out chocolate and such for the children. Logan reached for it.

"Oh no hunny, you're all done." Bertha said. I stared at her and gave her the eat shit and die look. She quickly changed her tone. "Well, if they don't get it soon hunny you can get it then."

By the time everything was done Bertha's daughter returned to her. She didn't get the "Prize" egg but she had 3X as much in her basket as Arwen and the other children inside. I watched as they walked away and I realized that this is what is wrong with our society. Bertha knew she wasn't supposed to show her child where the eggs were but she didn't care.

What kind of message is she sending to her daughter? Can you just imagine this girl in the next 10 years when she is 16 or 17? I can and it makes me cringe. Another entitlement person who thinks the world revolves around her. That's just what this world needs.

Nanny Camera Bust

This story got my blood boiling, literally, HERE. You can find the video HERE but doing a nanny cam shaking search HERE. (Warning, it's very difficult to watch and not get upset) The baby girl is only 5 months old in this video.

People like this deserve to be placed in a room with angry parents and shaken and slapped around. In certain cases I'd say shaken and slapped to death. What the hell is wrong with these people?? If you know you can't handle children then why are you working with them?? Do you get your kicks beating up on people who can't defend him/herself? I wish I could come around one day for a meeting with you, I'd see how much you like me physically abusing you!

The baby in the video is ok (thank god) and the woman has been charged. I hope she burns.

So Hard

When I was a child, I had a very healthy fear of my parents. I didn't do things I knew would get me into trouble because I knew if I did, the biggest, baddest, ass whooping was coming my way. I managed to scrape through my childhood with very few and for that I'm thankful. But I have to credit myself some because I knew better.

If only my children had that healthy fear.

Today I was playing with Annabel when I noticed Vincent had become "quiet". Any parent knows that eerie sense Moms have that tell us to go check, something isn't right. Sure enough, I was right. He'd gotten 3 bottles of my fingernail polish, opened them, spread the polish on the window sill and spread it around. As I approached he tried to run off and escape. I bent him over my knee and gave him what he was running from before placing him in time out. I spent the better part of 20 minutes trying to clean the polish but it only began to peel the paint from the wood. So now I have to scrape paint and then repaint the entire surface. All because my son decided to do something he knew he shouldn't.

I don't understand children sometimes. It's obvious they know better than to do things but do it anyway and when they get caught at it they run. That is my first indication they know better, they take off when they catch sight of you. I can understand why some parents snap. There is nothing worse than having your house in ruin because of a child doing whatever they want to do.

It's so hard to be a Mom and you're not told about aspects of Mommy hood like this one. It's the most difficult thing in the world to harbor such anger at someone you love so very much.

Gone Baby Gone Aftermath

Talk about a movie you just can't shake. There was so much I wanted to say about this movie but don't want to ruin it for those who haven't experienced it just yet. So I won't speak of the movie, only of the aspect that forms the basis of the story.

A girl goes missing. Who has her? Is she safe? Is she even alive? Is she being molested? You just don't know and probably never will. This is the reason I fear each and everyday for my own children. I worry about them so very much and my heart skips a beat each morning as I kiss them and tell them I will see them after school.

The truth is, none of our children are safe. There are people in this world that feel no remorse, only a perverse need they must release and a child is their vessel. The things that some children experience in their final moments of life at the hands of a pedophile...there just are no words to describe how upset this makes me, how wrong this is. I remember being 6 years old and hearing about Adam Walsh. That was my introduction to the vile people that inhabit this world and I've never forgotten, never. I vividly recall hearing about his headless body being found. I listened to my Mother fight back tears as she clutched me tightly to her chest and I can still feel her arms around me, even now.

And because of this, I live each day in fear. I hawk eye my children. I don't allow them to sleepover at friends houses nor do I allow them to stay at home without a family member babysitter (aka my Mom, Sister or Mother in Law). I refuse to take that risk, I couldn't enjoy my time out anyway if I worried about my children.

We need more stern laws in place for child abuse, all forms of it. Children are the most precious commodity we have, we should make every effort to protect it.

I'm sorry for the weird and emotional post. This movie just really touched me and even hours later I cannot shake from my mind. For some reason I keep thinking that losing a child is bad enough but losing a child to a violent crime...the guilt, the anger, the desperation...I can't even imagine.

I'm becoming my Mother

The last few weeks it's been terrible. First it was throwing toys all over the basement, then it was pulling each and every DVD down from the shelves, then it was spraying drinks all over the floors and walls.

Then this week while I was dressing to take Arwen to the doctor (I was in my own bathroom, right inside the room!) the boys got into my closet, pulled down all the clothes from their hangers, pulled out all the folded slacks and sweaters and threw them all over the closet floor. It took over an hour to organize again, even with Jimbo's help. Then the very next day, they did the exact same to Arwen's closet, pulling down not only her clothes but her shoe boxes, toys and Annabel's things.

So today I should have known. I should have known my demon spawn would do something that would make me want to pull out my hair. And sure enough, they did. It was a beautiful day so I took them outside on the back deck of our home. They waited until I was nursing Annabel in the office so I wouldn't flash the neighbors, (they knew I could see part of the porch but not all of it).

The picture above is what greeted me when I was done nursing her. They have thrown all of their toys over the railing, again. (I know, it's not the first time, terrible isn't it?)

I'm gathering those toys and they are going in the garage for a month. I will no longer tolerate this from them. I've tried being nice. I've tried time outs. I've tried taking from them. I've tried yelling, I've tried talking, I've tried everything but down right busting some bums. I'm at the end of my rope. I cannot deal with this anymore. I truly believe something is wrong with my children. I've never met children who thrive so much on destruction. They do this each day with no remorse, no regret. They treat me like garbage and I'm not standing for it anymore.

Currently they are sitting on the couch. No television is on, no music, no toys or books in sight. Tonight they will not get to play around. Instead they will have a subdued night with a book reading before bedtime and little else. They are going to have to earn the right to play with toys and have a good time.

I'm going to do something I swore I never would. I'm going to become my Mother. I had a very healthy fear of my Mom and because of it I kept my ass in line. I knew what was coming to me if I didn't. I've had enough.

**edit. I decided to throw all the toys away (with the exception of Arwen's things they grabbed)

When will it stop?

Today while doing my usual 'Monday morning news' I followed my normal routine. First, CNN.com and then People.com. As usual, on People there is an article about Britney Spears (big surprise there). She apparently had a mini breakdown and ended up sitting on a rock embankment while paparazzi snapped pictures of her.

This madness has to stop. It has to. It's not funny anymore and it makes me sick of our society and the people in it. I think Britney needs serious help, both mentally and emotionally. Can you imagine how difficult it would be having cameras shoved in your face since you were 18 years old? Or crazy men you don't know following you all around, watching as you go into Starbucks or the restroom? She's been dealing with this crap for so long now, I can't help but wonder if it didn't add to her irrational behavior as of late.

We need laws passed about this kind of thing. I used to think if you were a celebrity you lost your rights to privacy the moment you became a star. I was very apathetic. I figured with the ridiculous amounts of money the stars make they could afford security systems, gates and private property. But it's become a HUGE invasion of privacy. When a person can't even break down without having 50 camera bulbs flashing while they rush to capture the moment...

I hope Britney collects herself and rebuilds her life. Because I hate to think of the opposite and I'm telling you, I could see something terrible happening to her and it will be captured on film for the entire world to see. This girl is obviously suffering from severe mental illness and people need to have some respect and back the fuck off. Seriously.

Miley Cyrus

She did an interview on the today show and I was reading about her RESPONSE to the Libby Lu ticket scandel. She says herself that "parents are paying thousands and thousands of dollars for a ticket," and "that is why we have to give 120% percent".

Hey Miley. I have an idea! Why don't you make those tickets more affordable for children, so there won't be this huge demand. Why not do several shows to make everyone happy, so that each child that idolizes you will get their dream, which is to see you perform? How about you stand up for what's right, since you realize you are a ROLE MODEL. Listen to your FANS. The ones that put you on the cover of magazines. Stop abusing them by making them fork out money they might not have just to see you for 90 minutes on stage.

I know, I know. She won't ever read this blog. She probably already knows her fans are disgruntled and blames those nasty ticket scalpers for all the problems. But somehow I bet she'll still be singing along, raking in the dough and turning a blind eye.

Some role model.

No More

It's official. I am pulling my daughter out of the school from hell. No more of this petty bullshit.

I get a call today from the school and my daughter is on black...again. So I talk to her, find out what she did and ask why she did it. I tell her that her father and I will talk to her when she gets home, that I love her and to put her teacher on.

Sub teacher gets on the phone and tells me cheerfully but in a condescending tone, "Mrs. S I'll be sending home a paper you will need to sign and return to me."

"Let's worry about that in a minute," I say. "First, what exactly did my daughter do to have these fish removed?"

"Excuse me?" she seems amazed I'm not just accepting what she tells me to do.

"I said, what did my daughter do exactly?"

"Well, the first thing she did was not follow directions and/or pay attention."

"Ok, how exactly did this happen though? What was she doing? How did she not follow directions?"

"Well...," she falters for a moment. "There is so much going on in class I can't recall exactly."

"Please forgive me for saying this," I'm ready to give her an ass chew. "But if you want me to punish my child I need to know exactly what she did."

"I'm sorry, I don't recall exactly."

"Ok, what was the second thing she did?"

"She spoke in the hallway."

At this point I'm starting to fester. I've been punishing my child for months for the most petty of things, like forgetting to put away crayons to talking in the hallway.

"Ok, and as for the last thing?"

"She threw a rock at a child."

"She did? Did she say why? What happened?"

"Well, I don't know exactly, a boy came to us and said Arwen threw a rock at him."

"So you didn't see her do this, so you don't know if this was done in play or anger or what, but she pulled a fish?"

"Mrs. S throwing rocks is very dangerous and shouldn't be done."

"Oh I agree, totally. But when I punish my children I need to know what has happened so I can find out exactly why she did something wrong. I don't tell her simply, 'you don't throw rocks'. I get deeper into it. I ask why she threw the rock. Was she angry? Was she playing? What was the problem? Arwen has 3 younger siblings, believe me when I say hitting, throwing or pushing isn't tolerated here."

"Yes Mrs. Saare. Unfortunately Arwen has troubles often with talking and sitting still. This has been a constant struggle with her."

I take a breath and start counting to ten.

"Please listen. I've been in talks with Mrs. B for weeks regarding this very thing. She has told me my daughter is strong willed and this won't change. She and I have been working together to find a way to work with Arwen for a positive outcome. I don't expect you to understand this because you weren't here when this happened. I'll talk to Arwen tonight and her father as well."

After we hung up I called the public school in our zone. I'm taking Arwen there tomorrow and letting her take a look. If she wants to go there, she is.

It's time I do what's best for my child. She is so very unhappy. Her voice today was something I've never ever heard before. Her voice was broken.

Makes.Me.Sick.

I should be getting dressed right now but I'm so angry I had to write an entry. THIS happened not too far away from here and I wish I could fly over to this jail, walk the guy out of his cell, and drop him in the ocean in the middle of nowhere to tread water. Better yet, I'd weigh him down so that he would feel how terrible it is to hit water and sink and drown, much like a child would.

What is wrong with people?? I don't understand how people hurt children, I just don't. Here were are, a nation caring more for the welfare and humanity displayed to those who commit such heinous crimes. Have you read the numerous articles in favor of banning lethal injection because it is "cruel and unusual" punishment? Excuse me? Why should it be painless in circumstances like this one? This dumb shit lost his temper and killed his children in a fit of rage. Why do you care about his feelings, what about the horror and fear those children experienced in their last moments of life.

I remember vividly falling into the lake when I was 7 years old. I had a broken arm and it was in a cast. I reached over to run my finger across the water and fell in. I was terrified, I couldn't swim and pushed toward the surface of the water. I couldn't even see as the water was dark, the only light came from above me, glittering from the light of the sun. My Mother jumped in and pulled me out. I remember the terror and crying and clutching her.

I've been scared of water ever since.

I could cry reading this stuff. And the worst part? There will be another story equally bad like this tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. And following it will be another story about capital punishments and "rights" of those who commit such atrocious acts.

It makes me sick.

Breastfeeding v/s Doctors Advice

I'm in a pickle. I knew I would be after reading about treatments for H. Pylori. I did my normal breastfeeding research, finding each medication that I could safely take for treatment. But there is a problem.

For certain treatment of H. Pylori doctors prefer to give the "Triple" treatment. Two antibiotics and one PPI. In my case, I can have one antibiotic and one PPI, this doesn't fly with my family doctor.

Since I've given birth he has pressured me to stop nursing the baby. Each time he sees me he comments or asks (irregardless to the fact I've answered him each time before), "how long are you nursing this baby for? babies only need to nurse for 6 weeks to get the benefit from Mother's milk." And each time I face him and let him know I'll nurse for as long as Annabel wishes but otherwise at least a year (as I've done with all of my children). He shakes his head at me. It's gotten rather old.

He's had the office contact me. He has advised them that when I come in for treatment, if I don't follow his complete advice totally, I have to sign a waiver that I didn't. So I'll be heading in this week to start a one antibiotic regimen with Prilosec. I'm also thinking of getting my hands on some Mastic gum (if it's nursing safe, going to research this morning) for the symptoms.

I'm very seriously contemplating finding another Doctor at this point and it's really sad. He's a good doctor generally. Especially for common things like colds, the flu or other less severe illness. But his stance on breastfeeding really turns me off and makes me uncomfortable. I want a physician that will work with me, not against me. What I find most surprising is any doctor would suggest a Mother stop nursing because of his personal views on nursing (his wife only nursed their daughters for 6 weeks so that is the magic number I suppose).

I just hope this works. Otherwise, if this pain and nausea persists, I may have no other choice but to wean and place Annabel on the bottle. It will be a very stressful thing to do for both of us. She doesn't like the bottle (even with expressed milk inside) and we each enjoy the closeness during her feedings. She is my last baby, I just wish I could enjoy this time together before it's gone. Then to add more complexity, Annabel has ezcema. I worry about the severity if introduced to any milk other than my own.

Oh and by the way, the picture above is the one that caused THIS huge controversy.

Who Cares?

I don't like to get too political on this blog. The intention here is to vent and talk about being a Mom and the challenges and joys I face. But as I was surfing the net today I came across THIS article about the writer's strike and the golden globes. And for some unknown reason I thought to myself, "who cares?"

Who cares if the stars boycott. Who cares if this party that blows millions of dollars each year on food, gowns, suits and hair doesn't go forward this year. Who cares if these insanely rich people get goodie bags filled with freebies others will never see. Who cares if we don't get to watch them walk down that red carpet and blow kisses at the camera, talk about what designer they are wearing and what new projects they are up to.

I've become jaded with Hollywood. I dreamed of being an actress in high school, even in college when I studied theatre. But now it's not about the art (I don't care what you say Denzel, Tom, J.Lo or Reese) it's all about the cash. Writer's know this and want to cash in as well. Long gone are the days of classics such as Elizabeth Taylor and Clarke Gable, John Wayne and Katherine Hepburn.

As as society and a people we have to start looking at causes and issues that are important. It's time for People magazine to do a cover story on Darfur. Genocide is happening. Innocents are dying. It's time to get real. If they can cover something as terrible as the Amish School Tragedy then it's time for them to focus on issues that we can do something about.

Write an article on the celebrities who do some good. I'm not talking about all these fluff articles we see either. I'm talking morbidity. Let Angelina tell you about the stories that have broken her heart. I know Ms. Jolie donates 1/3 of her paycheck to charities. It's why she does movies, to continue to help those in need. Here is a woman who realizes you don't have to have all the money in the world for yourself. She pays her fortune forward and it's rubbed off on Mr. Pitt as well. These two people inspire me.

It's truly sad when someone like myself, a middle class Mom, donates what extra she has each year to at least one charity (it has been St. Jude Childrens Research Hospital and Autism Speaks but I'm thinking of adding the Magic Water Project this year or perhaps something for Darfur, I need to seriously research good causes) . Yet there are those in Hollywood who will buy a $10,000 dress or purse to carry around so they can be in style.

10,000 dollars that could feed and save the lives of so many people.

10,000 dollars that could save the life of an innocent child.