I Could Have Been Arrested By The Wal Mart Security Guard!

Yesterday I had to go to WalMart, or as I like the refer to it as "The Gates of Hell!" I usually avoid WalMart like the plague but my husband told me that they had boy's baseball pants for only $3 and could I possibly risk my life and the safety of my children and go to WalMart in order to save a buck.



While there, my 4 year old decided to act like a lunatic. Seriously, the moment we walked through the doors and the senior citizen on a scooter welcomed us, my daughter became a living nightmare. It is like there are subliminal messages being played through the speakers I swear!



She asked for this, she asked for that and when I told her no you would think I had told her that she had to place a hot poker in her eye because the screaming and moaning that came out of her mouth was excruciating.



So there I was, dragging a kicking and screaming toddler through WalMart... something I am sure they are used to seeing. As I am holding her hand in mine-which was much like holding a monkeys hand in mine-I could feel hot anger welling up inside of me.



I knew that I had two choices. The first was to spank her right there in WalMart for all of the security cameras to capture and then wind up on MSNBC saying things like "You would have spanked her too Chris Hansen!" or "I spank therefore I am!" and the second was to give up on the $3 baseball pants and head home immediately with my dignity and child in tact.



I chose door number two and drove home with her writhing and thrashing in her car seat as if she were possessed by the WalMart demons and let me tell you, a 4 year old can really hurt a person's feelings. Things like "I. DON'T. LIKE. YOU." were spoken, and "I. WANT. MY. DADDY." was said. I didn't tell her this but I wanted her Daddy too so that he could see what I go through and so that he could have spanked her and saved me from having to be the mean parent once again.



She spent the remainder of the afternoon in her room. In bed. At times like these I always try and figure out why her head is spinning around and she is beyond the land of sugar and spice. I think that maybe she needs more sleep, more love, more ice cream, less sugar, more vegetables, another playmate, less playmates, more stimulation, less stimulation, more books read to her, more time on my lap, a million dollars... I don't know.



What I do know is that this is a stage and I am one tough cookie. I will outlast the screamfest tour of 2007 and eventually she will give up-right? I don't know what the big deal is and why life is so hard that she has to scream.



I have decided to blame my husband for all of this because she is obviously getting her flare for the dramatic from his side. My side is so much more even-keeled. Seriously...

Rock Of Love...

After going to a baby shower today and coming home to a dinner of meatloaf and mashed cauliflower, I would never think of myself as anything other than your typical suburban housewife, a Stepford Wife if you will. This is what I thought my husband wanted, what he liked... that was until I started watching the VH-1 show "Rock of Love."

This is a show that has trampy women all duking it out for the love of Brett Michaels. Now, if you do not know who Brett Michaels is, well then you were probably living under a rock in the 80's for he is the make-up wearing, "Talk Dirty To Me" singing, platinum blond lead singer of the band Poison.

I sat and watched the "Rock of Love" marathon and eventually my husband joined me in this mind-numbing television show. I love it because it offers me no educational value whatsoever... it is like Novocaine for the brain-just what a tired mom needs after a full day.

I posed this question to my husband: "Do you think these women are pretty?"

Before I give you his answer let me describe these women to you-They have fake hair, fake boobs, fake tans and fake nails. They curse like sailors, fight like inmates, and throw around their sexuality like a low-price call girl. Basically, they are like many of the girls I went to high school with-or correction, many of the girls my husband went to high school with. I went to a good Catholic high school where we wore our skirts hiked up above our knees and our hair teased and sprayed 4 inches high. My husband went to our public high school where the girls were tough and the lip gloss was sparkly. Actually, the only difference between the girls at public school and the girls at my school was the fact that we went to Mass every morning and our parents wanted us to be nuns... other than that we were on a pretty even playing ground. (Hey, I never said the 80's were pretty).

So my husband's answer to my "Do you think these circa 1984 women are pretty?" was basically a "Hell Yeah!"

I was floored. Here I sit portraying a woman of stature. I have manner and values. I go to bed by 10 p.m. every night and make sure my family has their correct servings of fruits and vegetables everyday. I drive a minivan and try not to show off too much cleavage as I am a respectable wife and mother. Who knew that all along I could have stuck to my long hair and spandex dresses? Who knew I could still carry around a can of Aquanet in my purse and make rocker signs with my fingers and tongue all day long? Who knew!

I started to think back to my Poison loving days and shook my head in disgrace over the life that my husband and I have kidded ourselves into believing is what we want.

My husband was a rocker too... he was a drummer in a band. He wore spandex pants and tied bandannas around his ankles and wrists. He even had long hair and ripped up t-shirts. He was AWESOME!

I was a rocker chick. I loved any band that had big hair and tight pants. My parents were so frightened by the choice of boyfriends that I had that they threatened to send me away to an all-girls school on more than one occasion.

Sadly, my husband and I did not hook up when we were our rocker selves. We met when we stifled our bad boy and bad girl images and carried out our lives as responsible citizens of this game we call life.

I have always made the claim that my husband "saved" me from myself. I was still living like an extra in a Bon Jovi video when we met and he was all clean cut and mature. He reeled me in and I have never returned to my "She's My Cherry-Pie" themed days. I have even said that if I had not met my husband I would probably be in jail right now...

But then I realized, if I hadn't met my husband... I would probably be on VH-1 kicking some girl's butt in order to win Brett Michaels love. *big sigh*

Mom Always Told Me I Would Like You One Day...

Today is my little sister Claire's birthday. We have come a long way since the days of me torturing her and her following me everywhere.

I was not a nice big sister. The way my son treats his little sister reminds me a lot of the way I treated Claire... only I have not heard Aaron try and convince Emma that she was adopted yet.

I was 7 when Claire was born and I remember the day my parents brought her home from the hospital. *side note: there was no infant car seat for Claire and my mom just held her in her arms in the front seat... just proving a point about safety from yesterday's post.*

I was the baby of the family for 7 glorious years and then she came along and stole my gig. I was quickly removed from my position of glory and reassigned to the "middle child" seat. What was I supposed to do but dislike her?

As we grew, we didn't really see eye to eye on things. She was little and I was big and therefore I could beat her up... and I did so often.

Claire was only 11 when I went away to college and then I ran off and got married and started my own life. We did not reconnect until Claire herself was in college, and we didn't become friends until she was out of school and working.

Now Claire is my best friend. She has forgiven me for all of the horrible things I did to her as a child (like cut all of the hair off of her Barbies) and I can't go a few days without talking to her.

Maybe Claire realizes that she had a much easier childhood because I paved the way for her. I broke mom and dad in with my adolescence and after me, Lindsay Lohan would have been easy to raise! Our older sister Colleen was a dream to raise-she was perfect (still is). I was perfect too-a perfect pain in the ass. Claire gave the illusion that she was perfect... I taught you well grasshopper.

Happy Birthday Claire-a-belle! I am so glad you are in my life. Enjoy your birthday~I wish I could be with you, especially since you are pregnant and I am not and this will probably be the only time in my life when I am skinnier than you!

I love you~

I Was Raised By Maria Andretti...

My baby sister is having a baby. This is very exciting to all of us because even though she is 28, she is still our baby. I am still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that she is married and not 13!


My older sister, mom and I are planning her a baby shower (read: I am planning her a baby shower and my mom and sister are just nodding in agreement with everything.)


We decided to buy her the infant car seat. I have bought many of these over the years due to my own fertilization and figured this would be a good safe "low-cost" gift to give considering we are footing the bill for the shower... and all of the other crap I have bought when I am out and about and proclaim "Look how adorable this is! I must buy it for my new niece who is also my GODCHILD and therefore a very fortunate child indeed!" (If you don't think I proclaim that entire sentence, just ask the cashier at Babies R Us today, she will back me up.)


I went on my sister's registry to order the car seat and I about fell over in my chair. The one she wants is $220! Holy Hell! I didn't even spend $220 to birth all of my kids put together! She wants some Peg Pergo type thingy that only Gwen Paltrow and Brook Shields buys.


I called her on the phone and said "WTF?" to which she replied something about it being the top safety seat on the market today. I personally think she needs to lower her safety standards. I mean, sure she is driving around with my niece in the car, but my own kids do not get $220 worth of safety-they get the $99 special with a ten dollar coupon and 15% off for opening a Babies R Us account.


Shoot, when we were kids the only type of safety we had in the car was that of my mother's arm whomping us in the chest when she stopped too fast or when the lines in the road were a little blurry from the 4 glasses of wine she had at Mrs. O's house before driving us all to our home where we had no cable TV and no air conditioning!


I do recall my little sister falling out of the car once while my mother was driving. She had to pee so badly that she could not wait to get home and when my mom turned the corner (on only two of the four tires I am sure) the door to the backseat popped open and my little sister was half in and half out-holding on for dear life while my mom was gassing it and screaming in horror. She had some pretty banged up knees and my mom had to have some liquid relief after that ordeal.


There was also the time when we were driving and the muffler fell off the car. My mom actually stopped the car and picked the stupid muffler up and put it in the trunk! I am not sure why-maybe she thought it would be cheaper to reattach the old rusted out muffler than it would be to purchase a new one.


Then there was the time when she got so stuck in mud at the park that she yelled at me for being the "damn kid" who wanted to go to the park in the first place! I remember her making little trenches for the tires in the mud all the while wondering if I would get in more trouble if I asked it I could swing on the swings while she was trying to dig the car out.


But my favorite memory of my mom behind the wheel of a car is when we went to Paw Paw Michigan for a vacation and the cottage we were staying at was on a dirt road. My mom would tear down that road like a bat out of hell with the tires spinning and squealing and kicking up dust-that was a blast!


Maybe I need to buy my sister that $220 car seat after all...

Wordless Wednesday...

You can't buy beautiful... beautiful only comes from God!

It's All About You Isn't It?

My mom said that to me once when I was gabbing about how much I do for everyone... she said, "It is all about you isn't it?" Huh? Crazymothersayswhat? It infuriated me! I have not had anything for myself since the day I said "I do" and signed my life away to the man who I thought wanted an independent and free spirited woman by his side. Little did I know that this was all a farce and he really just wanted someone to make babies, sandwiches and foreplay.... not necessarily in that order.

I am tired. Not "sick and tired of your bullshit" kind of tired, but exhausted tired. The kind of tired where the upper middle of my back aches from holding a baby all day. The kind of tired where I don't even bother putting make up on because I just don't care. The kind of tired where I wear sweat shorts and tank tops with a shelf bra in them knowing quite well that they do not offer me the support that I need but I am too tired to really give a crap if my boobs hang low and wobble to and fro.

Each night when I go to bed my husband is there waiting for me. Each night I go into the bathroom and sit on the toilet exhausted from my 16 hour day. I brush my teeth, splash some hot water on my face in a weak effort to wash it and I don't even look in the mirror because I don't want to depress myself. I climb into bed with only one thing on my mind... sleep. My husband has other plans though. He wants attention. He wants love. He wants a sex kitten.

I just want to sleep. I don't want to give anyone else attention. I do not even want to be touched because I have been touched by someone all day long. I share my body with little people and the thought of having to share it with one more person makes me want to run screaming from my bedroom.

Even now, it is almost 10 pm and I have just gotten everyone to sleep. I just want some alone time so I sit here at this computer typing away because I know that there is a horny man right above me in my bed who is looking for a little sumpin' sumpin'.

You would think that God would have thought this out a little better. Maybe after a woman has a baby or has toddlers in the house, he would have made the man incapable of sex but completely capable of doing the dishes and laundry. I mean, he put Adam into a deep deep sleep and took his rib for goodness sake, you would think he could do the same to Carl upstairs... only it is not his rib that I am complaining about!

Since When Did Underwear Become an "Optional" Thing?

One night while on vacation, we went to Captain Stanley's Seafood Restaurant. The place was packed so we were sure that the seafood was guuud.

We sat down and the waitress brought over a basket full of hush puppies-my favorite! We all ordered and proceeded to happily stuff ourselves with fried food.

When we were just about finished with dinner, I look up to notice the cook was coming out of the kitchen. He sees a friend of his, waves, and starts to walk toward said friend. This friend's table was right next to our table and so when the cook was talking to his friend, he was standing directly in front of me.

I looked down at his orange shorts (don't ask me why I looked there-maybe because I was sitting and he was standing and that is where my eyes settled... right above my friend Lori's shoulder at the man's package.) Well... it was OBVIOUS that this guy was wearing no freakin' underwear! How was it obvious you ask? Let's just say that his shorts were thin and he was circumcised-that obvious!

I did what any woman would do in my situation and I started laughing... and then pointed out the fact that Lori only had a very thin orange material standing between her shoulder and a grown mans wanker.

To make matters worse, he was an animated fellow. He was swaying and bouncing all over the place while he was telling his friend about the fish that he had caught that was "This Big!"

It all proved to be too much for Lori and I and we decided to stop eating. Nothing ruins an appetite worse than seeing the man who cooked your food's member up close and personal. It must have been really hot in that there kitchen-either that or Captain Stanley is a pervert.

Things I've Learned While On Vacation At The Beach...

Fish are part of a very healthy diet… fish that are battered and deep fried are not so healthy-but oh so good.

I am perfectly content being a beach bum and watching other crazy people jog along the beach. I eat the fried fish and don’t feel an ounce of guilt out here.

Jimmy Buffet is one smart dude.

Ocean Air has the same effect on little babies as a 6 pack of beer has on a grown man. It makes them sleep longer and harder.

Eating 3 lbs. of shrimp that you bought from a man on a bike is not conducive to the septic system at the beach house.

Give a 9 year old boy a fish net and a piece of intracoastal waters and you will offer him hours of entertainment.

Sea Shells are a little 4 year old girl’s greatest treasure.

Keep the boys who carry boogie boards and wear their swim trunks half way down their butts away from your 12 year old daughter.

You may need a little Dramamine before bed when you sleep in a house on stilts on windy nights.

Sand is a natural exfoliate for bare feet walking along the shore… it is not so nice to exfoliate your butt crack.

Take a man deep sea fishing and he will come back as happy as a little boy.

Fish in the deep ocean love vomit from the side of a boat.

Just because there is an outdoor shower at the beach house does not mean you can shower nude in it. The neighbors will call the police on your nekid ass.

Do not go in the ocean if you are on your period… there was a woman attacked by a shark just ¼ of a mile from our piece of beach. I bet she was menstruating. A shark can smell a drop of blood 10 miles away-I don’t like those odds.

Every man who owns a boat automatically puts the title “Captain” in front of his name. We met Captain Jeff, Captain Jim, Captain Jack… but my favorite Captain was Captain Morgan.

You should not drive any vessel if you hang out with Captain Morgan too much

Having sex on the beach is much better as a cocktail than it is in the literal term. There are some places on a body where sand should never go!

What The?

I just realized that the last time we vacationed with our friends Mike and Lori, I had a 3 year old and a 9 month old. Now, 9 years later we are vacationing again with our dear friends and I have a 4 year old and a 2 month old.

When will I ever learn?

Bucket Envy...

The other night my friend Lori and I were walking down the beach. The water was splashing around our feet and the setting sun was warm on our faces. We were talking about nothing… just enjoying our walk together. Eventually we randomly started to pick up seashells. This became our activity for the next 30 minutes or so and we were content in the mindless peace that picking up shells from the sandy beach can offer a mom. The sound of the waves drowning out any worries we had in our minds. We were escaping the craziness that was ensuing in the beach house behind us. Our children were all running around and hyper by now and our husbands were still asking us questions like “Have you seen my sunglasses?” or “Didn’t you pack my blue shorts?” We were free of crying babies and whining teenagers. Ahhhhhh~

At one point we passed a few other women who were doing the same thing as us… walking for a bit, stopping to move something on the sand with their big toe and then bending to pick it up, but they had a bucket. Lori and I could not resist to ask them what was in their bucket-assuming that they had shells as well. We peered in and saw what looked like coral/dried sponge/rock.

We exchanged some niceties with the women and proceeded on with our mindless therapy, but this time we wanted what was in their bucket! We dropped the shells that we had so meticulously picked up and started to search for things that looked like coral/dried sponge/rock.

We didn’t know what exactly we were looking for, but we did discover that it was a lot harder to find these little pieces of the sea than it was to pick a shell out of the millions of shells that were on the beach.

It gave our search a purpose. It gave us a challenge. In the end, we only found 4 coral/dried sponge/rock looking things and we were incredibly pleased with our treasures.
We celebrated by opening a bottle of wine and making fun of our husbands and telling our children that we planned a skinny dipping expedition that evening. This caused everyone to stay clear of us in case we started stripping down for all the beach combers to see… us moms know how to get some peace and quiet let me tell ya!