Camping? Me? insert belly roll laughter here!

My Husband:  “Honey, why don’t we go camping?”

Me:  Darlin, bless your heart, aren’t you sweet.  “You don’t have to take me camping, I can make you miserable as hell right here at home?”

I do not camp.  I see absolutely no redeeming qualities to this ridiculous notion.  I hate bugs, snakes, spiders and anything (other than dogs) that has more legs than I do, is faster than me or would consider me lunch or worth biting.  I hate to be hot, hungry, sticky, dirty and see no point in engaging in any activity where these things would come into play.  Drive to a place only to get out of your car, walk several miles to find the perfect spot to sleep on the ground and shit behind a log.  No way, not me, ever!   

Watching mindless daytime television this morning, I was told that one way to spice up your love life is to go camping with your partner.  Really?  I have no idea what channel I was watching because we recently changed our cable carrier but I do know the lady who staged this as a good idea looked more like a wildebeest than a woman.  My best bet told me that she was already spiced up enough. I bet her body had not seen a razor since the 70’s.  She was wearing typical camping attire, which is far to earthy for me, and displaying the items needed for this trip into hell.  If I want to spice up my love life it is going to involve a 5 star hotel, a massage, a nice dinner, liquor, and lots of nudity, air conditioning and A BED!  There is only one tent I would want to see pitched and that would be a man under the sheets ready to rumble and would NOT involve metal stakes, canvas, a zipper and a patch of ground between two trees.  I cannot imagine a worse vacation than to camp, with anyone.  I have not ever been able to understand why people bust their ass daily to work, take care of a family and a home for the goal of taking a vacation to live like a homeless person.  To each his own I guess.  I would honestly rather pay a visit to my Gynecologist and stay all day rather than camp for 5 minutes (but then again, my gyno is HOT).  I love to take a hot shower or bath, brush my teeth, eat in comfort a hot meal that does not include gorp and sleep in an air-conditioned house in a BED!  I see no comfort or relaxation in hanging my food in a damn tree so bear’s won’t get it???  Seriously?  Zipping myself into a tent, sleeping on a mat or hanging my ass out of said tent to take a piss.  I could not give a shit less about being at one with nature.  Who the hell would want to heat up their love life by going sans shower for two days with a man or woman that smells like a goat rubbed down with a bag of onions?  Gee honey you smell like wide open ass, wanna fool around??? Gross!  Morning breath is bad enough when you brushed your teeth just prior to going to bed but two days later?  Not for me, not in this life anyway.

I married a man that loves to camp and would love me to camp with him.  All I can say to that is either this brotha is old enough to live with disappointment or he has by now figured out he married the wrong woman. To his credit, he did talk me into camping with him ONCE while we were dating.  I agreed to go because we were going to be camping at the beach.  How romantic right?  WRONG.  It was in late October or early November and the beach this time of year is like The Bering Straight.  Cold, wet, windy and completely void of life outside of the water.  BUT there were no bugs, creepy crawlers and it was at the beach so no bears either I was guessing.  Fine, great way to score some cool points and how bad could it be.  It was cold as crap and it rained the entire time, I mean the entire time!  I went with him and two friends.   I did enjoy the company (great guys) but I decided then and there that it would never happen again unless I was airlifted and dropped like a box of supplies onto an island or up in the mountains.  That being the case, I would probably figure that I only had about 24 hours until something found me, ate me or at a minimum scared me into cardiac arrest so I would just go ahead and impale myself on something sharp to get it over with! 

We camped at a “camp ground” and I use that term loosely that was adjacent to the beach, again how bad can this be right?  Well it kinda sucked because of the cold and the rain.  We had several substances to keep us well lit the entire time so the cold was tolerable but the no shower part was terrible and hanging my ass out of a tent to pee ranked right up there with a pap smear, no way to waste a Saturday with absolutely nothing wrong with it.  And the rain, sweet Mary mother of God, the rain was just short of a monsoon!  I was told there were bathhouses on “site” but I dared NOT enter those.  They were a good distance away from our tent anyway and it was so cold and wet that I could not even fathom the walk.  So for the first time since I was an infant I actually had a chapped ass!  My face and anything else exposed was wind burned and I had never been so f**king hungry in MY LIFE.  To this day peanuts and granola together make me heave.  The guys basically went to fish and were not all too happy about taking a chick with them but hey, their boy was in love so they took one for the team.  I thought well, I do want to spend time with him so I guess I can give it a try and surely there will be something else other than fishing.  THERE WAS NOT!!  We (hell no not me) fished all day, stopped long enough to eat camping food and then went back to fishing.  We fished all freakin night.  It was so damn dark that you could not even tell we were on the beach.  Somewhere along the drive to this trip I had the presence of mind to spend about $30 on magazines and a good book so this was to be my saving grace.  I drank myself silly then crawled into the back of my then boyfriends jeep and read, ate, slept, drank, ate, drank, read, slept, smoked like I had kids in Al Qaeda and occasionally got out long enough to pee.  Thank God at this time of the year you can take your vehicle and your dog on the beach.  We did not have a dog they had me!  I was f**king miserable!  I did however win the atta girl award from the boys because (this is the part NO ONE believes) I did not complain even one time!  I now know I was suffering from ECTTSD (enduring camping trip traumatic stress disorder).  I was honestly to awe struck at how miserable I was to even muster a complaint.  The car ride home was the nastiest thing I have ever felt.  I could smell myself, my boyfriend and was chapped in any place the wind hit me!  The wind had blown all the water out of my eyes so I could hardly blink.  My damn stomach growled for 2 days straight.  We did go one night (because it was raining so hard we couldn’t see and it hurt our skin when it hit) to a dive that had dime shrimp.  I ate like a damn hostage, slumped over my plate like the warden was about to grab it from me.  I should have told my waitress I had been kidnapped, then shanked my kidnappers and begged someone to take me to my embassy!  I drank beer out of a can that looked like motor oil and ate so damn many shrimp that I was afraid I was going to die from histamine poisoning.  My cholesterol level shot up to 1247, I swelled up like a poisoned puppy and my next thought was great, where the hell am I going to expel of all this when it works its way through to my colon?  Not to worry, I was so stopped up jihad couldn’t have dislodged all the gorp, alcohol, ham sandwiches, everything from the “ito” family and shrimp from my body!  HOWEVER one of my many motto’s is, there is a pill for everything, they don’t call me Colonel Parker for nothing, so I dipped into my trusty bag of tricks to see what I brought to numb the pain of this trip.  Being the smart girl I am, I decided an antihistamine would at least keep my ticker from jumping ship and my throat from slamming shut on me.  It was in fact the little 25mg bullet that would render me stoned!  So I swallowed one with some of my beer from the oil can.  Have I mentioned yet how nasty this beer was?  A shot of hemlock would have tasted better and allowed for far better repercussions!  This crap was so dark it looked like the urine bag of a kidney transplant patient and tasted like wolf piss would probably taste!  The smell even burned my already dry eyes.  No matter what I did, I could not get the taste out of my mouth.  I asked our waitress (a very salty broad who had obviously never left the beach.   She had wrinkles so deep you could hide the New York Times and a pack of cigarettes in them) if a coke was out of the question.  It was because their fountain machine was not working and the rep could not get there for a couple of days so she brought me some tea.  This substance she called tea was nothing but beach water with a tan and some sugar in it.  Any idea what beach water does to the intestinal system?  Montezuma probably served beach water for his revenge.  I was actually ok with this because I was going to need something drastic to get all this sludge out of my body. All I could hope for is that it would kick in while we were still in the restaurant.  No such luck.  It hit me later that night while we were back at our tent.  I spent the remainder of that evening hanging my ass out of my god forsaken (bedroom) tent cleaning out my body and defacing the environment.  Enough said on that matter. 

The next day we woke up early early early.  What the hell else do you do when you are sleeping in a wet tent, on the ground and its 30 degree’s outside?  We fixed a nice breakfast on a camping stove, made decent coffee then started packing for home.  I am not even going to go into the whole packing out what you pack in phenomenon other than to say it is much less than savory to smell and feel like shit and have to ride for a bit with 3 days worth of trash in the car with you.  We pulled into the driveway at home and got out.  I helped get all that shit out of the car when all I wanted to do was set fire to it, car and all and go take a shower.  When I looked at the shower I honestly felt like one of the hostages coming off the plane from the Iran hostage situation.  Who is president, where am I and someone please give me a towel, a toothbrush, a blowtorch and a bottle brush so I can wash this horrible event from my skin!  We took a shower and went straight to bed!  I think I woke up 6 days later.  Not really, we slept for 3 or 4 hours then went out to a really nice dinner.  My boyfriend (who is now my husband) said, “Now it wasn’t that bad was it, you actually had a good time didn’t you?”  My thought was first to stab him right through the breast plate, second it wasn’t that bad if you consider syphilis acceptable and third if you never ask me to do that again!  I said, “no sweetie, it wasn’t bad, I enjoyed most of it.”  Also thinking to myself, now when is my quiz on all the mindless crap I read about in Cosmo, Ladies Home Journal and People?  He said, “Well one thing is for sure, you are quite the little trooper.”  Good I thought, just don’t call me a happy camper!

We are now married and he still holds out the hope that I will one day be his fishing and camping buddy.  This is among one of the reasons he lives in denial.  He does however get the opportunity to camp with a group of students for a week each summer and I highly suggest that he take it because given the choice between a firing a squad or camping with children, I say blindfold me and aim high!

Turns out they do not serve silly bands in hell. But they sell them in Raleigh!

If you are a parent of children between the ages of 4 and 13 (maybe even older than that, I have no idea when you age out of a silly band…isn’t Justin Beiber considered a silly band?  When can we age out of him???) then you are driving all over town to find these damn silly bands.  No wait, I was corrected by one of my 4 year olds, its silly banzzzz.  Sorry darlin I have not claimed to be cool in quite some time now.  How do I know I am no longer of the cool persuasion?  My car was broken into a few years back and they left all my cd’s and my old school cell phone that did not have text ability.  I would have to question the coolness of the perpetrator because who would not want Nelly, JT (Justin Timberlake, not James Taylor) Sir Mix A Lot (yep still rock that one from time to time) and some Van Halen and DIO?  So maybe it was a thief with poor taste in music?  It did bring me on into the 2000’s because I did go immediately and upgrade to a blackberry but now I am not cool because I have a “low rent” blackberry and NOT an iPhone.  That may very well be but in my opinion AT&T sucks and Verizon never drops a call so until someone creates an app for not dropping calls I will remain iPhoneless. 

Back to the silly banzzzzz.  I drove all over North Raleigh one day looking for these things and my kids are only 4!  The last place I went is of course the one that had JUST received a new shipment.  I did not need to ask for them, all I had to do was look for the moms that look like vultures and the sales clerk that looked like a wild Indian trying to find a bathroom and a place to stow her horse!  This poor clerk looked like she had been rode hard and hung up wet and it was barely 11am.  Seems she was already replacing her third refill of silly bands so far.  She had this “go with God” look on her face and had to snap EXCUSE ME before the vultures would let her out of the silly band section.  I started to giggle because I cannot believe that I had to become the parent that is willing to cut a sista over some damn plastic bracelets.  “Oh, these glow in the dark, and THEEESSEEE smell like fruit!”  Gushed one of the moms.  She is precisely the reason I do not do playgroups.  The kids are fine, it’s the mommies that are living proof hell is full and the dead are walking the earth raising children!  I end up falling in love with the children and scratching my head at some of the mommies.  Crazy disconnected bitches would be a complement! Side note:  Don’t worry if you are a mommy that has had a playgroup with me because if I have felt like this about you, then you KNOW who you are because I am about as subtle as a train wreck and do NOT hide irritation and confusion well!  If you catch me with that “I just smelled shit” look on my face chances are I don’t get you, therefore you will NEVER get me…and lets never play date together again.  Shhhhh I won’t tell a soul you suck as a girlfriend since you’ve had children.  It’s OK, great mommies often suck as girlfriends because they have forgotten everything and can only talk about their children and bitch about their husbands.  I still LURVE to

talk about sex drugs and rock and roll. And sorry but my husband simply ROCKS!!

So, the smelly silly bands were snatched up very quickly (of course I got my hands on several packs and you better back off bitches unless you wanna pay me triple for these little grape smellin goodies and leave here drawing back a bloody stump!) so, the really freaky mommy (that based on appearance I am willing to bet drove in from Cary to find them) SCREAMS, “hey can someone go get that clerk, we need more smelly bands!”  No one gave her the memo that they are banzzzzz.  Several of the mommies looked at her with utter disdain and contempt and I could tell were willing to band together in taking her ass out!  You get outta line bitch, we ain't moving, is the way many of us looked at her.  I was starting to feel at home there in the crowd.  Then a few more piped in with “yes more of the glow in the dark ones also” Damn, I thought more of you were with me on this, turncoats!  I was imagining the morning conversations in these women’s homes.  “Come on guys, into the mini-van its time for school”  “what did you say honey, oh don’t worry about going back upstairs for your homework, you can copy someone’s at school just DON’T forget your silly bands, mommy has tennis and I CANNOT bring them to you”!  Then I remembered waiting in line years back to look at a shipment of Minolo’s that were just released (to our area, which makes them at least a year behind the fashion trend) and decided to chill on my highbrowness and cut these dedicated mommies some slack.  I say, “This is redonkulous I am taking the ones I have and blowing this Popsicle stand”.  One of the believers says to me, “Oh you obviously do not have kids who are REALLY into these” and she snubs me with her look.  Highbrow radar totally re-engaged I say, “No what I have are children that understand the word NO or the phrase sorry honey they were sold out” Sorry but becoming one with these nut jobs, I just could not do.  All of a sudden a hand comes from under a few coach and Louis bags (these were not swap meet Louis’ either) and I look down as they swiped my ankle to see one eye peeking out at me.  “Take these, I am coming out!”  Sweet, a soul sista where have you been all my life!!!  I grab about 10 packs out of her hand and back out of the cloud of $600 purses and perfume. (Someone should tell these shoppers that your perfume is suppose to be your signature not your f**king warning!)  She stands up, clears the crowd and damn, it’s a mommy just like me.  Baseball cap clad, showered probably the day before and not a drop of make-up on her other than pink cheeks from braving the crowd.  She says, “consider yourself hooked up, I could smell your frustration!”  I said, “Will you marry me?”  She laughed and we went to the counter to pay for our silly banzzzzz.  She seemed to be close to my age, which is not yet the golden age but it is the age of understanding that enables you to clearly grasp the fact that going home without these little nuggets will still allow you A. in the house and B. get you hugs and kisses from your offspring anyway.  But since we had them…it was easy to point fingers and giggle at the disappointed masses.  We chat for a few minutes but did not take it to far; we couldn’t have cared less what each other’s names were or how many kids we were buying these damn things for.  We just found a kindred spirit in the “no way, I will not join um if I can’t beat um club” in each other.  I paid for my banzzz and left.  I managed to get away from there unscathed and the proud owner of 10 packs of silly banzzzz.  In my day it was smurfs that had my parents pillaging stores, remembering this I was begrudgingly climbing on board with some of the things we have to do as parents.

Now, to be honest the part that doesn’t make me a highbrow or a hillbilly but a mommy who loves her brood, I could not wait to pick up my twins so I could see their faces when they saw the pirate booty of silly bands I had in tow!  I may be older and, thus a bit out of touch with youth that procreate, and my twins may not yet be SO into something that they will be devastated if it doesn’t make it under the tree on Christmas morning because unbeknownst to them Santa was out all night looking for it.  The simple fact is that we all want our kids to be happy and have more and better than we had, so we all jump through hoops when necessary to make this happen. Whether this necessity is perceived or actual is up to the parent and the wingman.   So now that I am safely out of the store and can look back at all the crazy Stepford mommies, I give them props for getting out there and doing what they do!  Crazy or not, kids are lucky to have parents as advocates and silly band tracker downers.  I picked the twins up early and we went home and tore into the silly banzzz and the response I got…… hugs and kisses and “oh you are the best mommy I have EVER had, and you are SO cool.”  “How did you know I wanted these EXACT ones!!!”

Bring on the next big thing……… My work here is done!

Muhammad “The Toddler” Ali

Yep this is another one that is guaranteed to get me in trouble with my husband. 

Getting the twins dressed for school this morning was actually a nice experience, sometimes it would be easier to sandpaper a lion's ass but today it did not suck.  Pat the mommy on the back for getting the “outfits” ready the night before.  Doing it this way usually causes the night to suck for a little while because we have to go through the fight that consists of, “No honey, you can wear this one OR this one but NOT that one.  She gets pissed but she chooses and we move on.  My girl gets it, she knows a deal is a deal because she WILL NOT repeat will not, back out on her choice the next morning.  She will occasionally roll her eyes or make a comment under her breath about it while she is dressing (something to let me know she hates it but is willing to rock it martyr style) but she will always take one for the team and wear it anyway.  Boundaries man, I lurve me some!  My son, he is a non-issue when it comes to dressing unless you try to squeeze in something on him that has a picture or ANY writing on it.  Stripes or solids man, that is IT!!  I lost my head the other day and put a shirt out with his khaki shorts that had a dinosaur on it and some words.

T-shirt in question except it was red.

I don’t even know where that thing came from (well actually I do) because I would NEVER have bought it.  Girl’s clothes are easy but boy’s clothes are a different story.  It is as if they have to make the little fella look like a pansy ass momma’s boy instead of a cool little boy.  Does a shirt with a dinosaur on it really have to say GGRRRRRRRR or RAWR for you to get the idea???  Well, when my little man caught wind of this shirt he looks at me like I had a damn snake on my head and says, “oh no mommy, this WON’T do, I will not wear this.”  I looked up from my coffee cup to see him holding this shirt in his little hand like the garment had just been diagnosed with the worse case of the clap ever to hit the East Coast!  His eyes were HUGE and he was looking at me as if to say, come on mom, do you WANT me to get my ass beat!?!?!  I nodded as if he had really said that and then I actually said, “I didn’t see all that stuff on the shirt because it was folded wrong and all I could see was red, I am sorry buddy.”  He looks at me with his sweet but serious face and says, “Sorry doesn’t cut it mommy.”  Then he slowly and deliberately walks the t-shirt to the trash can, drops it in, brushes his hands together to “clean them off” and goes to his room to get a polo shirt (these are great as long as the polo emblem is not pink). My boy is a prep for sure and he too has his boundaries.   I sure hope he is that picky when choosing a bride.

Oh yeah Ali the Toddler....

So back to this morning… everyone and everything was business as usual, which is just how I like it to roll in the am.  If you absolutely must have a morning in which you have to deal or be dealt with by people at all, then it must be done in the quick and necessary transaction fashion.  Thank god my twins feel the same way, makes me look like much less of a bitch.  It was time for me to get dressed and they wanted to spend more time with me (talking to me) so we all three went up to my room.  I figured they would talk and chatter with each other while I got dressed.  I was in a bit of a hurry because I sat adoringly watching them do their thing for about 15 minutes and that pushed me into the oh hell we got to get outta here mode!  I took a sip of coffee, set the cup down on the dresser and then began to drop my jammies to the floor.  I reached in the drawer for a bra and rummaged around to find only one and it is not one that fits the girls in a savory manner.  It bares a striking resemblance to pigs fighting under a blanket.   I squeezed into it, then bent over and reached down on the floor for a t-shirt that was crumpled there (in my opinion it perfectly matched the shorts that were laying near it) and BOOM my DD’s fall OUT of the top of the bra and are hanging there like 40 longs!  Dammit big boobs after childbirth really suck!!  They just don’t have the perk and buoyancy they used to!  AND yes, of course my twins are standing there and yes they see this, and yes I walk (not parade) around in front of them scantily clad when I need to.  Naked happens and in a busy household like ours you get what you get, at least I didn’t breast feed them until they could recite the friggin Gettysburg address! So my daughter simply says, “you better put that one back and find one that fits.”  My son however comes up with something a bit better.    Out of the corner of my eye I see my little boy with both fists balled up and leaning towards me.  He then gets closer and begins to treat the one boob closest to him like a punching bag…rolling his fists into it while he dances from foot to foot.  I expected my daughter to start belting out the tune from Rocky but even she was stunned. My first reaction was utter (pun intended) shock…where the hell did he learn to ball his fists up like that…HE IS 4 for God’s sake!  Then, where the hell did he get the boxing reference???  Is part of that private school curriculum to teach my son how to float like a butterfly and sting like a bee???  I guess it is true that men learn when they are boys to love these God given toys!!  But what is next, a motorboat?

SAHM?? WTF does that mean?

                      SAHM's really?

Why do we use the term "stay at home mom?"  It is so mainstream now that it actually has its own acronym, SAHM.   Hell everything has its own acronym now, LMAO, LOL, LMFAO, ROFLMAO, TTFN, TY, ILY, TTYL and my personal favorite, MILF.  We SAHM’s would be happy to add the acronym DILF to the mix if we could SAH long enough to actually F our own H’s.  Got that, or was it stretch?  I bet most of you got it!  Remember the one’s prior to the internet?  SINK (single income, no kids) and DINK (double income, no kids)? Back when we all had a life, a single life, or a married life that included alcohol, in copious amounts, and trips to the grocery store for beer instead of milk and juice boxes.  Well now the NK’s have turned into MK’s (many kids) so there in is the need for the SAHM!  What a freakin mouth full that was!!!   Anyway, why do we use the term SAHM? The phrase could not BE more of a contradiction.  It implies that we stay at home, racked out on the couch, eating bon bon’s and watching Dr. Phil. 

And might I suggest that you NEVER tell your wife this is the way you see her day.  It would rank right up there with, "Damn honey, what is wrong with you, you sure are snappy today, are you having your period?"  Or this one, "God you sure are bitchy, is it PMS time already?"  This is where we will either call you an

ASSHOLE

or give you one of these.

How many moms that “stay at home” actually stay at home?  Not very many I am guessing.   Lets see here is my list FOR TODAY, just today.

 Leave the house at 8:15am to take twins to school, stop at gas station, drop clothes off at the cleaners, pick up a prescription for thing 2 (the boy child), go to Time Warner cable to argue with nasty customer service (contradiction in terms) agent, regarding a bill  (we cancelled our service in Dec 09 but they are in denial so they keep charging us) I have no intention of paying.  Go to Harris Teeter (groceries) go to Fresh Market (fresh fish) swing by insurance agents office to make sure all is ok with new car, go to Erie office in Cary (God I hate Cary) to check on court letter from accident (letter to make my ticket to “go away”), meet a friend at Winston’s for lunch (damn its only noon, maybe Rome was built in a day, and probably by a SAHM) and meet in the bar (thank God because I need a drink by now).  Flag waitress down for to go order, take lunch to husband (yep back to the school again) because he has to much going on to remember that he too gets hungry, go drop off application for part time job this summer (SAHM status sucks!!!), go to toy store for two gifts for two birthday parties this weekend, then pick up the twins (last trip of the day to the school).  Take the twins to either ice cream shop or library.  Twins decide on library so we go home first to pick up library books that have been overdue since fall of 2009. (We are not staying home long enough to unbuckle the 5-point harnesses).  Go back to library and find two books to bring home that mom/dad will forget to take back until librarian with British accent calls house to remind us that it would actually be cheaper for us to go to Barnes and Noble (she is such a bitch, I would love to shove a book up her Dewey decimal system!!!). Now comes the SAH part, but certainly not the bon bon part, we are just getting home and its 4:30!  Just 30 minutes shy of a full workday.  The twins want to watch curious George, which gives me the opportunity (love it, “the opportunity”) to start dinner.  I get it rolling just in time for the show to end and its time to hit the driveway for bike riding.  Then we head to the back yard for some serious swinging (no not the adult kind, the kind that actually involves “push me higher mommy, higher”).  One would think that by now it would be close to dark right? WRONG the sun is still high in the southern sky and the twins are not even CLOSE to sleepy but daddy is hopefully close to being home, but THAT is a crapshoot.  We go inside because the state bird of the Carolina’s is the mosquito and they LUV me!  We read books, play and giggle ourselves silly until time for bed.  Daddy comes home just in time to help get teeth brushed and jammie’s on bodies.  Great, now SAHM can run downstairs, clean up from dinner and start the dishwasher.  Run to put napkins from dinner into clothes hamper only to discover its full.   Pull everything out and start a load of clothes.  Take the clothes out of the dryer and fold them, don’t worry about putting them away because we dress out of the hamper (and sometimes the dryer) because that is how we roll!  Find favorite blankets and wubbies  (bedtime buddies) just in time for daddy to finish up a book.  Fall in love all over again with kids when their faces light up because SAHM is the finder of bedtime buddies and daddy because who doesn't love a daddy right smack dab in the middle of his kids, just yummy!  Hug, Hug, Kiss, Kiss, drink of water, drink of water, kiss, kiss (because the water washed the first one off) turn on the light in guest room (because MOMMY I can't see in the dark), goodnight, goodnight, love you to the moon and back and downstairs I go!   

AAAHHH   at last, they sleep!

 I (the SAHM) finally have time to myself.  Yeah right, that means time to finish the kitchen, do more laundry, pay some bills, put all the toys away so I don’t break my fool neck at 3 am when I come downstairs for something to drink.  It is amazing how kids can booby trap a house!  When you step on a Lincoln log or a Lego in the middle of the night, which sends you careening into a table or a wall, thus introducing your other foot to a matchbox car it is almost as if you can hear your children’s voices say, “ See bitch, got ya!  Next time I ask for another juice box THINK before you say NO!”  I swear I am considering cancelling my alarm-monitoring contract because no burglar in his right mind would walk into this house in the middle of the night!  You take your life into your own damn hands; no blind person would survive it either!  You think Heather Mills McCartney lost half her leg in a friggin motorcycle accident, guess again, that gold diggin bitch lost it walking through my house in the middle of the night, we got your land mine's right here!  If it’s not the kids, it is my husband leaving his big ass shoes or brief case right in the middle of the rug (the black rug) directly in front of where I will walk!  WTF are these people I feed, love, clothe and run countless errands for trying to kill me?  Once I sit down to read my book, I realize I have not gone to the bathroom since 2pm so I go pee.  Come back, sit down, read( for 15 minutes) till my husband yawns and says,” come on honey lets go to bed, I am beat, its been a long day.”   I look at him like, I am sure it has fucker and YOU have an assistant.  I want a wife like me!!!!!

  "The Fword" 

 

Most of you reading this know me, so you know “The F word” is one of my favorite words.   It’s a great word and something about the f and the k bringing the front and the back to the u and the c, just makes you feel better.  Just doesn’t do the feeling justice to say fick, fudge, friggin or freakin!   But a good old fashion FUCK at the top of your lungs feels GREAT!!!!!  To my knowledge it’s not written anywhere that it is a bad word but most of society (southern society that is) sees it as one.   Most of society is to damn uptight really.  I mean I believe in God, I vote and I am an honest law abiding citizen who is teaching my children about God, manners and right from wrong, so if cussing and using “the f word “ a lot makes me bad or wrong, then fuck it, I am bad and wrong!!!  I think it is viewed as a bad word because the word really has more to do with sex, or the act of, than anything else.   I suppose sex CAN be bad but I have not yet run into that! Sweet Mary Mother of God I hope I never do!!!!  I mean even when its not great, its still pretty good right? Or is that just dependant upon either your perspective, someone’s experience or on how often you get some of it???  My mom reads this so I guess this is where I should add that I have only had sex once and that was to get my twins.  weeeelllll, maybe more than once, but my name aint Mary and the only thing immaculate about me is my house, I'm just sayin mom! It’s like Forrest Gump’s momma says, it’s just a little white lie so it can’t hurt nobody right?  Teeheehee.  Webster’s says the word fuck means, to breed (cattle), to copulate, to engage in coitus with, sometimes considered vulgar or obscene, to deal with unfairly or harshly.  Well shit, when you put it that way, even Martha Stewart (who could use a strong one, right up against a wall!) wouldn’t rush out to call it “a good thing”!   To me, it falls in the category of “it is what it is” and it IS a great word, it describes, emphasizes, makes people back off or pay attention and sometimes even leave you the hell alone.  It makes you feel better and sometimes makes you laugh.  Especially when you hear a child say it, it REALLY makes you laugh.  I am not sure why hearing a child cuss will make most of us laugh, I think it’s like farting (inappropriate but hilarious) or maybe it’s because of the “out of the mouth of babes” thing.  All kids use words they hear at home or any place else and the reason its funny to hear a child cuss is because they usually have no idea it’s a word they should not use.  It is funny in my house because my children use them correctly, with the proper inflection!  We DO NOT make it common practice to run around the house cussing but we ARE human and they do slip out.  Big deal, I think, as kids get older they learn how words are to be used and which ones to frequent or not, and in the grand scheme of things, my children learning these words or cussing is just not something I tend to worry about.  As a side note, it is most unsavory when words like cocksucker, mother fucker or dip shit come out in the church nursery but stranger danger, eating your veggies, learning math, proper spelling, pronunciation, how to be good citizens and how to swim are some of the things that strike me as important.  SO when my son dropped the F bomb this morning when he stubbed his toe, it made me laugh, oops I mean LOL or LMAO and remember a story worth telling from when he was not yet two years old!!!!!   So here goes.

The man that is stuck with me because he said "I DO" (and probably wonders 15 times a day why he did) wears hearing aids.  He doesn't HAVE to have them because he is not deaf but they do help (it's a minor thing that runs in his family, well that and lots of heavy metal concerts in his past) and it does not impede his being handsome or anything else but his hearing definitely sucks ass.  I know for sure he has selective hearing and that makes me want to knock the shit out of him for more than just general principle.  He is an assistant head of school so that makes him a General Principal, hahaha I crack myself up!  But I digress, sorry…I am like any other muttering mother, I talk to myself and bitch to myself quite often.  It’s easier than to bitch at your spouse when you know they don’t care or in my case, can't hear you (or choose not to). On with the story, King of the castle has exited the abode for work one morning leaving the minions behind.  The twins are perched at the breakfast table waiting for delivery of the first square of the day.  They are trying to wake up and like their mother they prefer very little talking (if any) until they are properly acclimated.  I asked the girl child what she wanted and she said,  “cake cakes please mommy”.  Which is girl child for pancakes.  I asked the boy and he said the same thing.  So I started cooking.  They were yawning, thumbing through a book and talking amongst themselves, when my son asked me a question.  I asked him to repeat it because I did not hear him.  He did so but I still did not hear him.  I moved closer to him and asked him to say it one more time.  This time he spoke much slower and a bit louder.  I still did not understand what he said so I came beside him, got down on my knees, moved in closely and said,   “Son, mommy still did not hear what you said, would you please say it again?”  He looked up at me with irritation in his face that even I have not yet perfected.  He put his fork down, clasped his hands together and with proper inflection this child, my not even 2 year old boy looked up at me and very softly but clearly said, “            ARE YOU FUCKING DEAF????’   I almost had a stroke and was laughing so hard milk came out of my nose.  He then said, mommy don’t laugh, you made me say it several times and i was earwatated aka irritated. Which doubled me over again!  What child not even 2 knows the word fucking??…. Or how use it in a sentence!  I knew explaining this one to daddy was going to get me the furrowed brow that he is so adept at.  What is the lesson for the mommy of the year????  Stop calling husband fucking deaf when in earshot of boy with big brain and good ears.  Beauty of it to me is that I still have no idea what the boy said.  But I will always remember this conversation. 

Oops he does it again

Later that night (daddy is still not home) the twins are getting ready for bed.  They have had a bath and are now getting into their Jammie's.  The girl child does her own thing and is already in the big fluffy chair in the nursery waiting for the nightly story reading to begin.  I turn to look for the boy child because he is not yet in the chair.  I walk out into the hall and look at the child fumbling around trying to get his shirt over his head and his arms in it properly.  He looks like a drunk wobbling around on unsure footing and about to fall over.  He realizes that he is not succeeding so he stops, stands still, takes one hand to feel around and make sure he is not about to fall down the stairs, then he sits down and try’s with the shirt again.  It looks much like two rats fighting under a burlap sack but he is determined to get it.  He tries one more time and winds up with his head poking a wee bit out of one of the arms and an arm coming through where his head is suppose to be.   I am doubled over laughing and now have his giggling sister in my arms watching.  He slowly takes his right arm and reaches out to the t-shirt and pulls it off his head while muttering fuuuuuucccckkkkk!  Just like a frustrated old man.  It was hilarious and of course he again used it properly.  His voice was low and the word spilled out for what seemed like an eternity.  He threw the shirt across the hall, shook his head, rolled his eyes and said, “mommy I am not sleeping in that thing tonight, now lets read some books!” 

My daughter is the one we thought would be using these words on a regular basis by now because like momma like daughta.  To date, the only “bad words” she has uttered are damn, as in where are my damn keys?  And shit oops, because she was copying what she had just heard me say.  I said SHIT when I slipped in the den and immediately followed it with oops because she was in the room.   She looked up at me from her puzzle and said , “shit oops” just like she was asking for a juice box, smiled at me like she knew she was saying something she shouldn't say, then went back to her puzzle.

I love to look at the faces of folks when either I or my husband tell these stories.  People either laugh hysterically or look at us like we worship the devil or have just shot a puppy between the eyes right in front of them. Like a cuss word is a direct reflection on your parenting skills.  A few people (always women, the uptight bitchy kind, that wear boring clothes and look like they haven't had sex since Moses was in short pants!) even ask us if we allow them to cuss.  My comment is "Oh sure, but only when they smoke and drink"  stupid bitches, seriously does anyone allow a 4 year old to cuss or do they just deal with it when it happens?  For Pete's sake!   I suppose my children slipping up and using cuss words(rarely) is not something I should be proud of and I am not proud of it but I am certainly not ashamed enough to spend any time in a confessional booth either. They are now 4 years old and are mannerly, sweet, smart, well adjusted children that adults and children enjoy being around. Life is funny, real and at times real funny and real messy and by last check, no one gets out of it alive so why take everything so damn seriously? In my house we live by the “it is what it is rule.”  I am a good mom who was raised by a good mom and I just don't see a problem with a kid being a kid and a few good raunchy cuss words is a right of passage in my book!  Maria Montessori may be flipping over in her grave but she is dead so she is off the hook right?  And besides, this highbrow went to public schools, so it is what it is!

One eye to eye

This one is going to get me in trouble with the man to which I am legally bound but what the hell, it happened and it was funny!  

So its 4am and I am sound asleep.  I am on my side, pillow between my legs, and hands under my cheek and I am sure I was even drooling.  I even remember what I was dreaming about but THAT I simply will not talk about because I actually have to look some of you in the eyes and dreams and thoughts are free right?  Anyway, its 4 am and I am sleeping, which is something I rarely do.  You know how you get the feeling someone is looking at you?  Well, you get that a lot when you have children and you learn not to be alarmed because they would rather stand there and stare at you until they scare the shit out of you when you open your eyes and see them, rather than gingerly wake you.  So, I open my eyes and there is a little boy, the boy child of mine, looking RIGHT at me.  I say son, its really late, err its really early so what can I do for you.  He says "mommy you are going to have to turn on the light for this one” I say ok and reach for the light.  As I am moving back over to the warm spot I left behind, I realize I am looking right at my son's unit.  That is what we call his..Well you know.  I mean it and me.... we are eye to eye, literally because it has one eye and that is all I could manage to open at 4 in the morning.  I said, "darlin, ( in the south we leave off the g.... its more endearing that way) what is the problem?"  He says in a whisper, "mommy, it won't go down and I need your help!"  I said, "well son, I don't think there is anything I can do to help, I think you are just going to have to wait it out and it will go back to sleep."  He says, " why do i have to wait it out mommy, IT woke me up."  I said, "yes darlin I know, they have a way of doing that and they also wake mommies up too!"  I lost myself there for a moment and rolled over to ask daddy what to do, since he has one, I figured he could shed some light on this little goody!  No help from daddy because that lucky son of a bitch is out of town, drooling peacefully on the pillow of a fancy hotel in New York City (probably suffering from the same problem, sans the toddler....a wee bit toooo personal, yeah maybe but if you are reading this...you aint new,  and he aint either and when your wife writes a blog.. nothing is sacred! you follow me?). Well that means that this is stacked right up there in the ~~weird shit that happens while daddy is out of town category~~ Hmmm that will be Toddler with a woody for 1000 Alex!  I mean I know what to do with my husband when its HIM that wakes me up like this at 4 am...but my son, I got nothin!  So I realize that I am the huckleberry that must rub this one off, so to speak...but CERTAINLY not literally!  I look again to see if anything has changed and not today, nope, nada, we are still kickstandin it right here in the master suite!  He is now standing with both hands on his hips, really irritated!  I say, "son why are your pants down?"  He says, "Because it hurts to pull them up!"  And I can imagine that it would, nuff said!  I ask him if he has been messing with it, because there is NO way in hell I can use the word playing and he says, "no, well maybe a little, but that didn't seem to help so I stopped, now I just want it to go down because I am sleepy."  I tell him to pull up his undies and crawl in bed with me and go back to sleep and if it is still like that in the morning we will call the Doctor.  He thinks that is a great idea.  So he gets in bed and I reach down to make sure his undies are all up and in place and before I can get my hand in the general direction of said erection..... He goes, 

"MOMMY STOP, I am afraid it will hurt you so don't go near it right now."  I suddenly hear Robin Williams voice in my head, from the movie Good Morning Vietnam... in his radio show where he says, "The Mississippi River broke through a protective dike today, what is a protective dike?, is that a large woman standing by the river yelling...DON'T GO NEAR THERE DONT GO NEAR THERE!  I roll over and laugh until I cry and try to fake falling asleep.  He tells me not to be upset; it will be better in the morning.  "Don't worry mommy."  Then he pats me on the back, takes a deep breath and then, he is snoring!  I roll over and look at him.  He is flat on his back; both arms tucked under the back of his head, snoring like a grown man.  I let out a belly roll laugh and then hate the fact that my husband is not here to see this moment.  Ahhh the joys of raising children!  

A bit of a side note.  

We started noticing things like this when the boy child of ours was about 2 years old.  He seemed completely unaware of it but wanted to make sure it was all good.  We didn't worry but at our next visit to his pediatrician we asked the questions.  Our pediatrician, whom we dearly love looks at us and kind of laugh's under his breath.  He then says, "I am going to tell you guys this story because you are cool as hell AND you are great parents"  He says, "a couple of years ago, a mother brings her son to me because he is spending a lot of time alone and when he does, lets just say that he is not treating his little guy very well"  "He is pulling it, poking it, hitting it and so on."  He tells us that the boys mother looks up at him with a worried, embarrassed and concerned look and asks him if this is normal behavior and if he is going to grow out of it.  He says, "I looked at her and said, well Mrs_______ don't worry, it is a completely normal thing, it happens to all boys and as far as stopping it, well its a transient problem and it will go away in about........ 75 years."  He then says, "She didn't think it was funny so I haven't said that to anyone since!"  We thought it was hilarious and pretty much decided that he was to be our pediatrician forevah!

Ding Dong …… Oh my Lord, it’s the Jehovah Witnesses again. 

So I am sitting in my house today, minding my own business, drinking coffee and reading the New York Times (on my blackberry).  All of a sudden, ding dong.  I keep my seat because I am expecting no one and this in and of itself makes me a bit skeptical.  Ding Dong, yet again.  I turn my head and look out the window to my front porch and I get this yep, we see you, now get up and answer the door look from Laura Ingalls Wilder and her Paw standing on my front porch. 

They do not seem to care that I see them and have little inclination to get up and answer the door so I decide to screw with them a little bit.  I think about going to the door and loading them up with a little hmmm ……. Oh hi there, sure come on in, I would love to look at your little book.  It gets so lonely in here since I am on house arrest for a year cause I am just fresh out of a 30 year vacation in the cross bar hotel.  I sure like your dress there little lady,  I might just be willing to violate my parole for you!  I just might lock you up in MY Watchtower, want some Easter candy?    I know it’s the JW’s because of the way they are dressed. Lets just say that I have never seen the prairie line in any haberdashery.  Oddly though, I have seen JW’s at work (story on that to come later) and it appears that only the door-to-door variety is the ones dressed like this.  What’s up with that?  Not one of my 135 pairs of shoes would go with the Holly Hobby look, so there is one reason not to convert!  They are always very clean, neat and tidy and very nice, but I am still not going.  Anyway, I keep my seat and see if they will be obtrusive enough to ring the bell again.  You damn skippy, ding-dong.  I set my coffee down, turn and look out the door window again DAMN; it is Paw, putting me through ocular intrusion while standing on MY front porch.  I don’t know whether to be pissed or impressed because trust me, that takes balls!  King (dom hall) size balls!  I open the door with a really irritated look on my face (I have several of those and they have been known to make toddler’s and adults cry).  Laura is young (maybe 30) and Paw is, well a little long in the tooth.  It’s usually a younger man…about to hit 40 and a woman that is already changing gears to head down the other side of the menopause mountain (55 plus).  Not sure why the Kingdom is shakin things up on me here with this new breed of sales associates.  I open the door and the interchange goes like this:

Me:  Hi

JW’s:  Good morning, how are you today?

Me:  well thank you.   Odd uncomfortable silence

JW’s:  yadda yadda yadda (brief introduction and sales pitch) and would you mind if we left these pamphlets with you to read and we will come back next week to pick them up and answer any questions you may have?

Me:  Actually I do mind if you leave them, I have a faith and a church I am quite happy with and Jesus is my Lord and Savior.  Your services are not welcome here and there is no need for you or anyone from your organization to return next week or ever.  Thank you and do enjoy the rest of your day.

The JW’s step backwards down the stairs and begin to lay the pamphlets on my steps. She does not take her eyes off me while Paw bends down to do the dropping.  Now I’m pissed because I DO NOT stutter!  I am about to go all Happy Easter, Merry Christmas and by the way, for whom did you vote on these people! Instead I say in a stern, deep, don’t make me get my gun from behind the door; scotch drinkers voice “TAKE THE PAMPHLETS WITH YOU!!!”   WTF?  Why can they not figure out that they have been here before, I don’t want their propaganda, they are not wanted here AND why don’t they keep a damn do not knock list for the folks who are all stocked up!  I swear I would build a damn moat around my property if these people had not proven to be so steadfast that they would probably tunnel underneath the sucker to win me over! I have nothing against Jehovah Witness or any other religion but you don’t see me going door to door to tell people their religion is wrong and mine is right and if they don’t change they are dancing with destruction.  I mean damn, fair is fair and right is right around the corner, so get the hell off my porch!  My faith is right for me, has been all my life, aint changing, just growing stronger.  I’m a work in progress, like most folks I guess. Supposedly JW's salvation can leave them at any time, which is one of the reasons they are so ready to walk the walk and talk the talk door to door!  I thought it was no rest for the wicked; guess its no rest for the witness.  BUT I am still a bit scared of being the true bitch that I can be and saying all this, for a couple of reasons.  I am home alone, and they should have come last week (PMS). They may be nice and my vulnerability level may be somewhere between Patty Hearst and Granny Clampett but their belief system is rather cult like and that straight up scares the hell out of me! I use a Mac now so I am actually part of a cult.

Who Are They? 

A religious group known as Jehovah's Witnesses originated in Pennsylvania in the early 1800’s as a small group of followers of Charles Taze Russell. Today they are more than 6 million members strong and are spreading their gospel worldwide. These men and women, Jehovah’s Witnesses are known for their refusal to celebrate holidays, vote, salute the flag, and receive blood transfusions. (Always wondered why my doctor asked me while delivering my twins, if I would be willing to receive blood if I needed it to save my life…well no shit Sherlock of course I will.. you think I have gone thru this miserable shit to die???)  They are led by a large organization, headquartered in Brooklyn, New York, called the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society. Members of this religion freely spend hours per month - some as many as 90 hours or more - going door-to-door, handing out religious literature and conducting free in-home bible studies with prospective converts. (Gee THAT sounds safe doesn’t it) As dedicated and sincere as they are, unfortunately, many of their teachings are sharply opposed to the teachings of biblical Christianity. To look at some teachings of the Jehovah’s Witnesses, I will quote Watchtower magazines (the ones they tried to leave on my steps) and contrast them with the quotes from the Bible: (al beit loosely but as much from memory as possible for the ones that jump out at me.)

Watchtower: “The soul dies; it does not live on after death”

Jesus:  “Do not be afraid of those who kill the body for they cannot kill the soul”

Watchtower:  “…come to Jehovah’s organization for salvation”

Jesus:  “I am the way the truth and the life.  No one comes to the father except through me”

And lastly,

Watchtower:  “To get one’s name written in that book of life depend upon one’s works”?

Jesus:  “for it is by grace you have been saved, through faith you have the gift of God, not by works”

Don’t know about you and the above is just a snip it from two places but I think I will stick to what I know and have been taught my entire life, thank you very much.  I did make the mistake one time of asking what the deal is with all the stuff they cannot do.  I asked this because I got handed my own ass from a 5-year-old boy in a real estate office one day.  It was 7 days from December 25^th.  Kind of popular day to most 5-year-old children right?  Well not this little shit.  I asked him what he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas and he looked at me and YELLED.  “WE ARE JEHOVAH WITNESS AND WE DON’T BELIEVE IN CHRISTMAS OR SANTA CLAUS!  WE DON’T CELEBRATE ANY HOLIDAY AND YOU SHOULDN’T EITHER BECAUSE ITS THE DEVILS WORK” Well alrighty then shut my mouth and shove a reindeer up my ass!  A little adult in the body of a child, a very serious child.  One that will not fair that well in school if he continues to answer questions like a little asshole.  He will likely be the uncool kid with the duck on his sweater that gets his ass beat just for general principle.  He knew as much about fun as I do about quantum physics! So I asked the next pair that visited my porch what in the world that diatribe was all about.  Here is more or less what I was told.  Jehovah Witnesses believe and are taught to have only one allegiance and that is to Jehovah God and his organization, the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society.  They claim that they cannot compromise this loyalty by voting, singing a national anthem, or celebrating or observing holidays because it is perceived as being part of the devils world.  Damn can you say narrow focus?? How about isolation??? 

Hearing all of this just made me feel bizarre and like I needed to go wash my hands and although I may have paraphrased in a few places here for the sake of argument, I have not forgotten my conversation with those folks over the years, what they said or how it made me feel.  So going forward I have just answered the door and shared the dialog above way to many times and with every JW that pays me a visit.  I am hoping this new sign will make them turn on their heels and head for the street.  If not, I will come up with one that is a bit more direct.