What Did You Expect?

My Mother-in-Law purchased tickets to A Christmas Carol for me and Arwen as a Christmas gift. I was incredibly excited, as it's been years since I've seen a play, and couldn't wait to make the trip.

As we walked inside the building, and waited for the doors to open, I saw not one, but two very small infants. Pushing aside what could possibly become a distraction, I took my daughter inside and purchased her a drink that she had to finish prior to taking our seat. All of the ticket holders were told as we entered, "No food or drinks in the auditorium". Yet, when we arrived, we sat next to a women with one of the aforementioned infants. And seated next to her was a child Arwen's age -- gulping down a cup of soda from the concession stand.

Really, I could go into the other things that occurred when the lights went down -- babies crying (and in their defense, with all the loud and unexpected pyrotechnics, I would be squalling too!), children kicking the back of our seat (after being politely asked to stop), food wrappers being opened, cell phones going off -- but I won't. The purpose of this blog isn't to delve into that. Rather, I'd like to address people who feel that my Mother-in-Law's gift (and money) is less important than what they obviously think is their God given right to be assholes.

What is wrong with people? I don't mean to be a downer, but I was flaggerbasted by the adults who brought food and drink into a place they were specifically asked not to. Then to add insult to injury, decided their phone conversations were so damned important they couldn't shut their Motorola off for an hour and a half to spare the rest of us saps a bit of sanity.

Sadly, the bitch within surfaced, and I not only said something to the woman's child who was kicking my seat (who refused to stop after several warnings), but I was also forced to explain to my daughter (within earshot of the child her age and the mother that refused to follow the rules) that some people don't have the sense God gave a cockroach.

It was only after my declarations that the idiots in my vicinity threw away their drinks, chided their heathen children, and allowed my daughter, Mother-in-Law, and me to enjoy the second half of the play in peace. Word to the wise, peeps. You don't want to be called out for being a douche, then don't be a douche! Seriously, what do you expect?

Here are a few pictures. The cast was wonderful enough to pose for pictures and to give autographs. It's a shame they had to perform with cell phones blaring and babies screaming.

Message

What kind of message do you think it sends when your 13 year old, in a fit of rage, breaks not one but two of his $200 glasses and then informs you that he wants contact lenses and he will only break any other glasses you buy? And you get angry and tell him - rightfully so- that you will not buy him contacts and he can forget it. Only to reneg on your original promise later because - well - he needs to see after all.

I have an idea. Get some black electric tape, ply those pieces together and have him go to school Steve Irkel style. If that doesn't clear up his attitude then at least he'll realize for once you mean business.

NO!

NO! You cannot...

Have more cereal, ice cream, chips, cookies, crackers or whatever other food you want right now.

Watch the same Thomas video over and over.

Play with the blinds.

Destroy my room.

Smear food into the floor.

Climb over the gate.

Play with the remote.

Eat that food you found on the floor.

Hit your sibling.

Yell and scream.

Throw a tantrum.

Break various objects.

Throw your toys.

Whine and cry about it.

And NO, I won't change my mind!

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.

What if I said NO?

The one thing Jimbo and I do most as a couple is watch movies. It's something that doesn't take too much time, isn't that expensive (if we eat here first) and it allows us a reprieve from the kids. We enjoy our movies very much.

So yesterday afternoon we decided to see Hellboy II. My Mom (in law) said she'd watch the kids and we headed out for the 5:00pm show. As is usual for us we arrived 30 minutes early, picked our seats and waited.

Without fail, a group walked in a couple of minutes as previews were starting up. One sat directly next to me (instead of finding seats in the mostly empty auditorium) and I look at Jimbo and roll my eyes as this has happened more times than I'd care to remember. Suddenly one of the men looks at me and says:

"Hey, could ya'll scoot down a seat?"

I sat there for a moment and considered how to answer because I didn't want to move for these assholes. I'd gotten to the movie early to pick out my seats and while it's not a big deal to move over it's just the principal of the matter. The theater was practically empty, there was no shortage of places to sit. Who in the hell do people think they are nowadays?

I looked at him and finally said "fine" and moved down before adding "it doesn't matter we got here 30 minutes before you to sit here, whatever you need man, I live to serve".

But it gets better.

Why oh why do people think they need to replay each moment on the screen to their nearby companions. Do they think everyone needs a play by play or a "hot damn!" or "Oh my god" or "did you see that" or "oh shit!" or...you get my drift. These morons talked the entire duration of the movie, filling in everyone within earshot about the previous film, the powers of each character and so on.

I enjoyed Hellboy II but it was definitely dampered by these fools. I'm going to start telling people like this to shut the fuck up and to hell with the consequences.

Gone

I'm sure you all know of one. A person who has no interest in you until their own life goes down the toilet, a crisis erupts, a heart is broken, or some other negative thing has happened in their life. Then suddenly they show up, giving the pity party, expecting you to embrace them and offer up yourself because suddenly you are "worthy".

So don't be surprised when you look around one day and I'm gone.

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.

Mortified

He was great at Wal-Mart so I expected no different at the video store. We walked inside and he ran to the gumball machine. I watched him from the corner of my eye and told him we'd get one before we left.

Then he began throwing his tantrum.

His screams echoed throughout the store. I tried ignoring them at first, hopeful he would just follow me as I continued walking but instead he threw himself into the floor in a full out fit. I walked back to him and told him to stop, it did no good. So I put Annabel's car seat (with her snugly inside) on the ground to grab his arms and get on face level.

"Stop right now." I said in a firm voice. My temper was starting to rise as did my embarrassment.

When this didn't work I grabbed him by the hand to lead him to the video I wanted. I knew exactly where it was and all I had to do was to grab it and go. This wasn't to happen however as he immediately threw himself to the ground, his body dead weight. I struggled to pull him and carry Annabel before finally reaching the other side of the store. I felt eyes bore through me and tried to keep my cool.

Suddenly Vincent spotted a Thomas video and immediately stopped. He stood and rushed over and was back to the sweet loving boy I know. We quickly made my selections and hurried to the front. Vincent was pleasant as I paid and I placed Annabel just over the line with DVD's in her seat to quickly buy a gumball for her brother.

A orange one came out and this led to another fit as he wanted the white one. He began to scream and tantrum yet again. I regretted my decision to be nice and watched as he threw himself into the floor and began his thrashing, kicking so hard he lost his shoe. I grabbed the shoe and tried to place it onto his foot after this I pulled him around to Annabel to try to leave. This is when he played his little dead weight trick on me again.

As this occurred an older man was walking out of the store. He stopped to watch the show and I felt like asking him if he would like some popcorn. I was mortified, embarrassed and fed up so I did what I should have done in the first place.

I spanked his little hiney.

He continued to cry but he followed me as asked out to the van. I told him when we got home it was straight to bed for nap. And that is exactly what happened.

From here on out, when he tantrums like this, I'm not requesting he stop. I'm demanding it. I refuse to have my child behave like that.

False Advertising

Buy one, get one free!

I was so excited. There was a sale at K-Mart. Buy one L'Oreal HIP product and get another free. I'd been waiting for a sale in something other than the drugstores (prices were a lot higher) so I hurried on over.

The eyeshadows were priced around the same as CVS and the eyeliners had no price listed. I grabbed two colors anyway since I'd shopped before and knew they were $10.99 each. I hurried to the register and watched as the cashier rang them up. I did a double take when I saw the first one scan...

$13.59

The bastards had marked it up over two bucks. So basically, I was getting a deal but not the kind of deal I'd expected. I stood there for a moment debating on whether or not to tell the cashier never mind. After all, I could just go to CVS and pay $11.00 for one and save myself $2.59 and still get one free. But I figured with the costs of gas I'd break even anyway. So I forked over the cash and left a bit miffed over it all.

So for those of you like me who wait for sales to get deals, be sure to call ahead to find out how much they marked the stuff up just before the sale starts. You might be better off making your purchases someplace else.

That's what I thought

You want me to get the biopsy. You want me to have that surgery now you say. I can't wait you say.

"You can't let stuff like that wait, you need to do it now. What does your doctor say? You need to have that done!"

So I responded with the only thing I could. The most blunt thing, the most honest.

"Who is going to take care of me at home while I recover Mom? Jimbo doesn't have the time, neither does his Mom. Are YOU going to do it? Are YOU going to come up here and take time off of work?"

"Uhhh...well...we'll just have to work around it, you know...all of us...even your Father.........."

That's what I thought.

Drives me Crazy

Riiiinngggggg...Rinnnnngggggg...RIIIIINNGGGGGGG!!!!!!!

"Damn it!" I growl as I climb out of the bed. I walk to the stairs and hear Jimbo grab the phone.

"Uhh, I think you just woke her up...yeah here she is..."

I round the corner and give Jimbo the evil eye, "Hello?" I ask.

"Hay! It's Mom, I'm at Wal-Mart, what was those chips you said Logan liked?"

Count to ten, I say to myself before answering, "He likes the pringles in the mini bags."

"Mom," I hear her say, "he likes the pringles. Ok, where are they?"

"Toward the end, on the left side." I sit down and hope to get off the phone.

"Cheetos, Doritoes, Pretzels..." she prattles on each bag she sees while keeping me on the phone.

"I'll call you back!" she tells me and I gratefully hang up the phone. I hurry upstairs to the restroom. I sit upon the throne, ready to do my business.

Riiiiinngggg...Riiinnnngggg...RIIIINNGGG!!!!

By this point I'm cursing.

"HELLO!?"

"Hay! Ok, I'm at the end of the aisle...little mini bags you said, I see a bag of other..." I begin my countdown to 10 again. Keep it together I tell myself. It's too early to blow your top.

"I'll call you back," she says again.

I hang up and wait for it. Fool me once and all of that. Good thing because within two minutes the phone starts talking again.

"Helloooooooooooo," I answer.

"We found them! Ok what was that other thing you said you needed to get, while I'm here?"

"That's all," the words rush out. "I have to go to the store tomorrow anyway."

"Are you sure?" she starts rustling through something at the store and it echo's through her phone mic.

"Positive." I say.

"Ok, we'll be there soon." She hangs up.

Great. Nothing better than unexpected visitors. And nothing better than unexpected visitors that call you and wake you on Sunday morning, your only day to sleep in.

Thanks Mom.

Bang my Head Against the Wall

Please, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT call me and ask me about anything computer or internet related over the phone. Chances are if you cannot figure the shit out I cannot help you and if I give you the internet address and "it isn't coming up" then politely thank me for my time and hang up the damned phone. Don't keep me on the line to suffer as you tell me over and over, "it isn't there!?!" And no, I don't "know what you're saying" I'm in another location, lest you forget.

My Mother drives me absolutely ape shit doing this. She called tonight wanting to locate an article online. I lead her to the website itself but "it doesn't have that bar you're talking about here, it just has blah blah blah" so I gave her the direct URL but "I only has a map here that says blah blah blah..."

After several agonizing minutes I began to lose my fucking mind and told her I had to pee and I'd call her right back. I then walked to the nearest wall and proceeded to bang my head up against it over and over until the sound of her voice was no longer echoing inside my brain.

Jimbo was kind enough to capture the moment below.

Milk Money

Before I launch into this entry, I am going to the doctor this morning. The pain is worse. I cannot wait to get there and update you on what this crap is.

Now, for the party.

Yesterday was my niece's 8th birthday. Even though I wasn't feeling 100% I got ready and took Arwen. We arrived and there was nothing really going on. Just a bunch of kids and parents, most of the children were skating around in the rented room while their Moms and some Dads watched on.

I got Arwen situated and took a seat next to a man I was introduced to as my cousin's husband. My cousin, Angie, has 5 children. This is husband number 4 and Father to baby number 5. If that doesn't tell you enough about this woman I'll add in that, she doesn't work and has no plans to and lives in her Mom and Dad's old trailer on welfare. Her husband was cordial enough and had their baby girl (Annabel's age) in his arms.

When the time arrived to cut the cake, I washed my hands and hurried over to help cut and distribute. All of Angie's kids crowded around the table. As I was handing Arwen her plate Angie's oldest son said:

"I was told I would get the next piece!"

I ignored him and instead gave him the next slice and off he went. All of her children shoved into the line and nabbed their cake and rushed off so imagine my surprise when halfway through the 30 some children...

"Can I have a big ole' corner piece? Angie just LOVES her icing!!"

It's Angie's husband. He standing there, hovering over the heads of the children. At first I'm in shock because there are so many children that haven't been served. And here is this asshole, wanting cake first, with tons of icing for his icing hungry wife??

I cut a small side piece with has tons of the border icing on it. He looked at it, then looked over at the plate I was using to scrape the additional icing off the knife, then proceeded to pick the plate up with rubbed and smeared icing and put the cake in it before walking off. I was about to tell him how nasty that is when:

"I want some more cake!"

It's her children, again. I guess in their house if you snooze you lose. I told them I was sorry but they had to wait until everyone else got a piece before I gave out seconds. They quickly hurried over to the ice cream instead. I watched in horror as they went through plate after plate of runny ice cream. Shoving it down as if it was the last sugar they'd see until the next party they got invited to.

I'd like to say, "what is wrong with these people??" but the truth is when you have parents demanding cake BEFORE children I can only imagine. I wonder if she even bakes cakes for treats like I do from time to time. It's not expensive. I can make a 2 tier cake with icing for my children for maybe 3 dollars? Or less? How hard is it? But the best is still to come.

As the party was winding down I wound up next to them, again. This time she was talking about her baby and formula. Of course, I told her that I'm nursing Mom.

"No babies are making MY boobs drag to my knees." She said disgustedly. "You can forget it."

"Good thing they don't actually do that," I said back. "Plus they make you lose the baby weight and it's good for the baby."

"Well that's true and it's good for the baby but all of mine were on formula." I was getting the "breastfeeding is gross" vibe from her.

"The one thing though," I said, knowing they don't have money because she won't work. "is it saves TONS of money."

"I'm sure it does," she says before informing me, "but you can get WIC for up to 75,000 dollars per household with all of my children so I didn't have to pay for any of it with my kids."

That night when climbing into bed I shared the nights events with my husband and when I told him this he asked.

"Did you tell her to say thank you?"

"No, why would I?" I asked.

"For paying for half of that WIC milk of course. Do you really think that milk is free? Where do you think that money comes from."

Next time I'll be sure to remember that.

Redneck Aunt

I've blogged about this before and always saved it as a draft. I suppose I was embarrassed to have Jerry Springer people in my family and more so, I was embarrassed about this entire issue. I'd hoped to move on and never think of it again...but it's not to be.

It's a long story but I'll try to make a cliff notes version. My Mom's sister, Aunt Glo, is an alcoholic. Not only is she an alcoholic but she is an extremely violent and hateful one. She doesn't work, hasn't for years and mooches off my poor grandmother and uncles (and occasionally my own Mom and aunts). She's been in the slammer many times over and most people in the family tend to avoid her whenever possible. I'd personally never had issues with her, until about a year ago.

Basically, Jimbo's parents live in the same neighborhood as Glo. And since Jimbo's Dad likes to have a drink with buddies, he and Glo ran in the same (albeit small) circles. But the group began to dislike Glo and her violent streak and eventually they cut her out of it. Now, Glo got extremely pissed. She began getting on a CB radio that she acquired since the men in the neighborhood use them for neighborhood watch. She would scream profanities and curse until the alcohol consumed her and she would pass out.

But one night was different. One night she changed tactics. She got onto the CB radio and launched into an attack at Jim. She called me a whore, said his grandchildren weren't really his, that all of my children were bastards with different Fathers. My Mother in law heard this and called the police. They came out and took a statement. This is where things went from bad to worse.

About a week or so later I was getting ready for Logan's IEP at school. I'd gotten dressed and was preparing lunch for the boys when the doorbell rang. I was around 5-6 months pregnant with Annabel at the time. I answered the door and a strange woman stood there. I assumed she was a solicitor of some kind.

Come to find out, this lady was from DHR or CPS (whichever you have in your area). She was, "investigating a report of neglect" and asked to come in. Of course I said yes. I hurried inside, cut off the stove and lead her to the playroom. The boys were as I'd left them, playing on the back deck with their colored chalk. She took a seat and got down to business. And it wasn't pretty.

The claims were all junk (of course) but some of them cut rather deeply. Accusations that I locked my children into their bedrooms, ignored them to play video games, that I was a addicted to drugs, that my husband was violent. You get my drift. The case worker told me she shouldn't say it but she got the complaint via email and asked who would say such things about my family. At the time I was in shock and had no idea. It was too much to take in at one time.

She asked if I'd submit to a drug screen and I told her I would, however, I'd had Mepergen Fortis the night previous for gallstones. I explained my medical history and she asked me if I'd be willing to sign over my medical records to her. I agreed. She said she had to see Arwen because there was a report that Jimbo had physically assaulted her. She scheduled the appointment the next morning at 7:00am.

By the time she arrived the next day I'd talked to family and realized there was only one person who would lie so terribly to hurt us and it was Glo. The tip off was her getting on the CB radio after I'd called my Mother to inform her I thought her sister just reported us to DHR. My Mom of course called and after they hung up Glo got on the radio to Jimbo's father.

"Your little phone call didn't work." She said and laughed.

The next morning, the case worker returned. She talked with Arwen. I also informed her of my 'belief' that the person who emailed was in fact my aunt. I told her she could find her history at the local sheriff's department. She said of all her cases ours was of the least concern and not to worry. I told her I'd contacted my Early Intervention contacts and they would be calling her (Lisa and Angie, my care coordinators were very angry. It is after all their job to report abuse in a home and they were out here weekly). She bid us a good day and that was it. I signed over my medical the next day and I never heard from DHR again (knock on wood!)

Things returned to normal. Glo stayed quiet for a time. Until now.

I've found out she's returned to her old antics. I keep waiting for a knock on my door and I absolutely hate it. I've talked to Jimbo about contacting an attorney. Perhaps we can be proactive here. I don't care what she says about me but these are my children she is threatening. DHR has the power to take them away from me, even if the reports are unfounded.

I'm really torn about what to do. This entire situation is horrible. I've never wished death upon anyone but I find myself thinking the world would be such a better place if Glo wasn't in it. She's the most vile person I've ever met in my life. She serves no purpose but to hurt those around her.

Momma Drama

I'm about to make an entry on a subject that seems to continuously appear on my blog. For those of you who are tired of hearing about my Momma drama, please skip over this.

As you may recall from a previous entry, Beware the Ides of March, my Mother and I are having some issues and have been for a very long time. After our heated discussion I decided we would go over for a short time on Easter in the morning. After all, we are going to Jim's family and I do want to be fair (even if making the trip really puts us out).

Tonight after the kids were settled I decided to sneak in a nap. I nestled with Annabel upstairs when the phone rang. No big I figured, until I heard the caller ID. It was my Mom. I heard the answering machine click over and I just let it. I was tired and Annabel was nearly asleep. Then I heard my cell phone going off. Again, it was her (why she does that is beyond me, if I don't answer the home phone why would I answer my cell???) and again I didn't pick it up.

When I woke an hour or so later I came downstairs and Jimbo looked rather peeved (which admittedly is odd for him, sure he's a pain in the kitchen but more often than not he's passive). It appears my Mom called yet again and he picked up. Every time in the past this has happened my Mother has asked for me, told him to tell me to call her and hung up. But not today. Nope. Today she was all kisses and, "the kids are going to have soooooo much fun! I bought this and that and blah blah blah", all because she is getting her way.

"It's pisses me off so bad," he said. "She treats me like shit every time she calls. No 'how are you' or 'thank you' just, 'is Jaime there, well tell her I called, click' it's insulting. Not to mention all the times she's called and when she hears me she hangs up. What the fuck does she think, I can't read the caller ID? That I don't know it's her hanging up on me?"

And the truth is, he has every right to be angry. My Mother has crapped on him and although I do not allow it or condone it (and she knows it too), she is still a bitch to him. I still remember after giving birth to Logan, Jimbo was in the hospital room with me when Mom called. She asked to speak with me and I was asleep, which Jimbo told her.

"Little shit," she said as she hung up the phone. He never forgot that and neither have I. When I brought it up she tried to downplay it or changes the subject.

I know several of you fellow bloggers have suggested I cut her out of my life or just simply say no. (I truly appreciate the comments and support from you all) Trust me when I say I'd love to do both of these things and I've tried them out.

First I cut her out as much as I could. Problem is my daughter adores her (believe it or not, as a testament to my truth, my boys have never stayed the night with my Mother) and the longer she goes without seeing her, the more she craves it. I don't wish to punish Arwen for my Mothers faults. (even if my dear sweet daughter returns home acting like a brat and fool for a good week after a trip to her "Grannies")

Then I tried telling her "NO". This worked for a very short period of time because she would call and put on that act. And it all lies within me but I allow her to guilt trip me. I try to stop it but years of conditioning are working against me.

When you add all the shit she has put me through it also causes tension for Jimbo. He loves me and when he sees me upset or crying (which I never do) he is livid. And he knows she is the only person who can upset me so much, and just the fact that SHE knows it and continues to do it. Let's just say it pisses him off something fierce.

It's hard having a manipulative person as your Mother. I'm pretty sure she acts as she does because of tons of insecurity. I've always known she put on a show for others. She always has to be the center of anything. Even in times of crisis. As terrible as it is for me to admit it, my Mom thrives off of drama. It seems to bring out the best and worst in her.

I don't know what we are going to do after this year. I want to be fair but she isn't being fair and for those you might say, "tell her she can come visit your house", I have tried, believe me. I've asked her and my Dad over time and again and they've come out a handful of times. They tell us, "it's such a long trip, it's too hard to come out there". I guess packing 4 children up and taking them there is easy.

I told Jimbo today that it's like this. I feel as if she places this huge weight upon my shoulders and makes me bear it. Then each time she calls it's a reminder of that weight and of the burden imposed upon me by her. And it makes me absolutely resent the hell out of her.

She just doesn't get it and to prove my point I'll end this entry with a comment she made to Jimbo that had steam coming out of his ears.

"11 o'clock will come so early tomorrow."

HELLO. We get up at 6-7am here to care for our children. You think 11am is coming early?

Wake the hell up Mother. Please.

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.

Beware the Ides of March

Apparently it's not enough that I get one peaceful day.

It started last night before bed. Bad weather began to roll in. The power went off and on, I woke up each time. Little rest later Annabel was up for the day and I climbed out of the bed with her. I came downstairs and perked up at the sight that greeted me. A beautiful table lined with gifts (I will post a picture later, I need to take pictures) and cake.

But when I came downstairs Logan was in the middle of a breathing treatment and when I looked out the window it had begun to rain again. I sat down and Jimbo wished me a happy birthday before the phone rang.

It was my Mother. She wished me a happy birthday and told me she couldn't get Arwen because of the weather but then she had a stroke of genius.

"Hey! I have an idea! Why don't I got get Zoe and pack up some bags and come stay the night there??!!??"

As usual I sat in silence. Because once again, on my birthday, my Mom puts me in a tight corner. What do I say? If I say yes, she will come here and expect to be entertained. I will have to run the children as usual while she plays Grandma. I will have to clean, cook and run ragged so she can put on the pretense of helping. I won't get to go out to dinner and if I do I will be hassled on the phone from her calling every 15 minutes, "When are you coming back?? Are you almost done yet??". Even worse, I won't be able to enjoy a drink or two at home afterward to celebrate, because my Mom detests alcohol.

But if I say no, she will get hurt and angry.

"Well...Jimbo had plans for me Mom. I'm not sure what I'm going to do yet..." my voice trails off as I don't know what to say.

She sits as she always does. I can feel the tension through the phone line. So she quickly goes into another area of attack.

"Well, if the weather clears I'm getting Arwen. And I'm telling you right now, I want her and all the kids next Saturday night."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because I'm taking them all to church service for easter."

"Uhh, Mom, we have plans that weekend. We have the company picnic on Saturday and then we have Aunt Joanne's house."

Now, we have went to Joanne's every single year, every easter, since the children were born. My Mother KNOWS this. My Mother never plans Easter. We've spent exactly one year at her house and it was ill prepared. At the last minute she was so pissed that we were having Easter at Joanne's she threw together her own. She called two days beforehand and told me we were expected to come because if we could go to Jimbo's family, we'd damn well better come to mine. We arrived to our children hunting eggs filled with little biblical relics because they were sold out of all the other eggs and such because she went shopping for things that morning at the last minute. The children became upset because she didn't have any food cooked or prepared, it was a nightmare.

I let out an audible sigh through the phone and said, "Mom, we do this every year, you know that."

"Well I want to start a tradition HERE." She begins to get huffy. "It's not fair..." and she starts in on her usual tirade. It's not fair she says, that we will spend time with Jimbo's family and not her. It doesn't matter that Jimbo's family plans this a full year before or that we've known about it for months. It doesn't matter that she has burdened us with her last minute planning and expectations.

This is the way my Mother is. Always planning things at the last minute, always expecting to come over, stay the night, have a get together. Always wanting to go to vital Dr's appointments but never having time off when help is needed here at home. Always wanting the children when out in public to show off and hurriedly passing them back off to us after no one is watching. Always wanting to be the center of attention, expecting equal rights, expecting everyone to function around what makes her happy. Always with her plastered fake smile and nosing in on other people's tragedies as a way to make people say, "isn't she such a great person," or "she just loves those grandbabies so much".

Even if it's on someone else's day.

This is why I don't get on well with my Mother. God help me. I love her, she is my Mom. But years of her abuse have left me bitter. She used to maintain such control over me. She used guilt to control me and make me afraid of the world. She taught me early on that she was my salvation and then yelled and ranted when I clung to her and was afraid to be away from her. She made me a mental case until I finally got married and learned there are other people in life you can trust that won't make you afraid to stand on you own two feet.

I don't know why she does this each year and I don't know why she does this on my birthday of all days. So now I have to make phone calls, find out when Joanne's party is, and make arrangements to go out of my way to a Easter thing at my Mom's that will be tossed together at the last minute, all because my Mom can't stand the idea of my children loving other family members more than they do her.

She always has to be number one. Always.

I AM THE MOTHER

Today when my Mom called I was a bit frazzled. I'd forgotten tomorrow was kite day at school (I didn't even know it was kite month to be honest!) and Arwen doesn't have one. I was planning on running to the store with her when Mom said she had a brand new extra one in the trunk Arwen could have. I quickly accepted and thanked her, but my happiness was very short lived.

"Are they letting parents come fly kites with the kids tomorrow? Because I'd love to pick up Mac Donalds (I know it's Mc, she says Mac) for lunch and go do kite day with her."

I sit in silence for a moment, counting backwards from 10.

"I don't think parents are going Mom, there wasn't an invitation sent to us."

"That's why I don't like that school, it's weird!" I hear the anger in her voice as she tells me good-bye and hangs up the phone.

Since when did Grandparents start expecting to do things with children that is meant for parents? I'm quite sure my Grandmother didn't ask to take me to kite day when I was a kid. Back then it was the accepted practice that events for parents would be attended by...oh I don't know...parents?!?

My Mother has been trying to act like the 'parent' to all of her grandchildren since birth. She expects to be able to attend the functions that I want to attend and god forbid I say, "I was going to do that Mom," or "I've always figured I'd be the first person to eat lunch with my own children at school, not someone else".

Does anyone else deal with this kind of shit? It's beyond annoying and really has the power to make my day go from sunny to suck in 3.5 seconds.

I AM THE MOTHER Damn it!

**edited to add, parents are welcome, I'm trying to find a sitter for the boys so I can go.