Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Happy Facebooking!!!

Facebook is a great tool for every type of person. Some use it to stay connected with relatives, old friends, classmates. Others use it to legally stalk people, keep track of their day to day lives. Some might use it to boost their own egos while others use it to keep their phony façade current with the masses. Whatever your reason, we have all been on the other side of the screen thinking, What the what is wrong with them?
I have been sick all week with an overly hyper 5 year so my tolerance for people has hit a record low. I estimate that my threshold for stupidity will increase significantly by the end of the Holiday weekend. But right now, here are a few things you all know you wish you could post on Facebook but never do.
To the happy couples who have to let everyone know how in love they are with their wife/husband:
Truth is if you’re truly happy you wouldn’t have to let your 667 friends know via mobile uploads. Truth is your real friends already know. Truth is you probably aren’t as happy as your posts say you are. Truth is you really annoy everyone. Truth is, stop it!
To the people who Check In everywhere they go:
Truth is I hardly think about you until I see you are checking in at HEB and then headed to the bank…. Then you check in at the bank. Then you check in at home and we think, finally it’s gonna stop…. Until you check in your bed…. Really? Step away from the phone. Be productive and go play MW3.
To the people who constantly tell us what they are making for dinner (typically healthy food):
Truth is no one is impressed that you downloaded a healthy recipe from Truth is you could have made that same meal in half the time if you stopped posting your daily menu and calorie count on Facebook. We all know you sneak out of bed at night to eat Little Debbie’s Swiss cake rolls.  Betcha don’t post that!
To the people who take pictures of themselves in the bathroom:
Truth is it doesn’t look as good as you think it does. Truth is, you need a hobby, and maybe a friend.
To the people who have nothing nice to say:
Log off and shut up.
To the people who Twitterbook:
Truth is if you are posting on Twitter, it doesn’t need to sync to Facebook. They are separate social networks with different formats.  I don’t have the time nor the patience to translate your hashtag#-H8t@ blah updates!
To the people who purposely post open-ended updates:
This parallels with the negative Nancy posts. Don’t post stuff like, Wow, I can’t believe that just happened. I’m totally screwed now! Then when your friends, stalkers and mom want to make sure you aren’t about to jump off a cliff, you don’t respond. Truth is you should have just posted: I just want attention, please leave me a comment
To the TMI people:
Truth is you must have forgotten that your grandmother and pastor are your friends and might not need to know that you call your husband Bid Daddy, or that last night was amazing… ICK! Truth is you just got put on the UNSUBSCRIBE list.
I love Facebook. The beauty of it is you can post and say almost anything you want whether it is true, false, politically correct, inappropriate or risqué. It’s your profile, your reputation, your opinion and what I think really doesn’t matter and I know that. Like I said, my tolerance for it has been lowered as my fever has risen. This time next week I should be back to my normal self that will consist of a lot of eye rolling, laughing, and unsubscribing. Happy Facebooking to all!

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Newtons Law

One of Newton’s laws of motion states that, Every object in a state of uniform motion tends to remain in that state of motion unless an external force is applied to it. He must have been referring to Ex-Husbands.  
I think that along with every good thing, every good time, every good experience or good anything comes a negative one to counter that. I say this because I had a very good weekend but it was immediately shadowed by the reality of my situation.
It was my custodial weekend so when I found out I was going out of town; I made arrangements for the kids. A while back, I had requested that the X-man and I switch weekends to accommodate my upcoming busy schedule. Thus maximizing my QT with the kids and minimizing the babysitter’s time with them. It was made clear by the X-man that accommodating me in any way was no longer on his give a damn list. So when I was finagling the final details of my weekend out of town, I didn’t find it necessary to involve him. He inevitably found out I was leaving for the weekend and volunteered to keep the kids instead of my pre-arranged childcare.  In spite of my personal opinions of him, I would prefer the kids be with their dad if I have to be away. So I agreed to his request knowing he would bill me for his services in the form of total bull crap.
I got back into town late Saturday night so I set my alarm to pick them up early Sunday morning before church. When I arrived to the brothel my ex in-laws house I was pleasantly surprised that Hannah Montana’s car wasn’t there for once. Kylee has been expressing her dislike for her continuous presence when she is with her dad. Of course I take into consideration that Kylee likes to please us by saying things she thinks we want to hear. I typically take it with a grain of salt but I do believe there is truth behind her complaints.
I ring the doorbell and on the other side of the door I hear joyful cries of happiness and shouts of “MOMMY!!” I almost broke the door down I was so excited to get my babies back. I was greeted with hugs and kisses from the kids.  They still needed to get their shoes on and Kylee was anxious to show me all the stuff her dad bought for her so I sat patiently on the couch. Kylee tried to lure me back to her dad’s room and before I could decline the offer the X-man rounds the corner in a panic to keep me out. Shortly after that I hear Kylee trying to wake Hannah Montana up.  Sadly I wasn’t surprised or shocked that she was once again in his bed.
I wish when choices like these are made I could have a genuine flabbergast-like reaction. But the only emotion that crashes into me every time is disappointment. I disagree with the “Do as I say, not as I do” parenting method that he so evidently relies on. Relying on a 19 year old to consider the effects she has on someone else’s children is foolish of me to hope for. She laid low and probably oozing with shame until I left. As I was buckling the kids in I could see his bedroom blinds moving. If only she knew she didn’t have to hide to sneak a peek at me thru the window. We could have actually met, shook hands and pretended it was nice to meet one another. I have no desire to meet her, although I have no desire for her to share a bed with my children either. I guess my vote doesn’t count here.
This day to day roller coaster of disappointment is either getting easier to ride or my tolerance for it is building. I am learning to let go of a lot that is out of my control. The fact is I don’t get to hand select his girlfriends or pick the music and TV they are subjected to. I do get to explain why Jersey Shore and Teen Mom are not appropriate to watch, and why she can’t sing LMFAO’s song I’m Sexy and I Know It. I predict there will be plenty more occasions where I will have to explain that wrong is wrong no matter who does it. I’m not responsible for his actions. I’m responsible for cleaning up the mess his actions leave behind.
So in reference to Newton’s law stating that Every object in a state of uniform motion tends to remain in that state of motion unless an external force is applied to it…. I will be that external force applied to my children’s lives. 

Thursday, November 17, 2011

A trip to the doctor

This week walked up behind me, pushed me down, pulled it’s pants down took a dump on my new “I can do anything” perspective. My week started with the onset of the I don’t know what my kid has sickness. Last week the school called to tell me Logan wouldn’t keep his shirt on in class. I was all like, so what’s the big deal?  Then they were all like We think you should come get him. Later found out he had a rash all over his chest. One doctor’s visit, 5 hours of missed work and $25.00 later the eczema I already knew he had was confirmed. Monday night Logan sounded like Gollum with a smoking addiction. Come Tuesday I knew that cough needed to be heavily medicated. So did mommy.
Taking the kids to the doctor is like a scene from Cheaper by the Dozen.  I had to wake the munchkins from their nap at school, which inconsequently gave them energy equivalent to a 5 Hour energy/Mountain Dew cocktail. Kylee seemed overjoyed to be out of school early and Logan seemed confused. I casually discussed with Kylee what my expectations of her were while at the doctor’s office and she seemed quite anxious to please me… I was naturally suspicious.
Logan’s name was called and we began the 21 questions segment of our visit and then the waiting game. I love their pediatrician because he usually gets us in and out without devouring 2 hours of my time. Around the time the nurse does an about-face and leaves us alone to wait for the doctor is when Kylee takes her goodie-two-shoe mask off and begins to mount the walls like a spider monkey. Conveniently Logan copies everything his big sister does so he too begins crawling, climbing and jumping. They both get on the exam table layered with the loudest tissue paper ever produced. Kylee then begins to spank the clown painting on the wall, and Logan joins in as well. I’m sure in the next room it sounded a lot less like clown spanking and a lot more like wall banging. I finally peeled them off of the medical examination table which they transformed it into their personal trampoline only to have their attention diverted to the paper towel dispenser.
For a room the size of a handicap stall they sure do manage to get into a lot of crap! When the doctor walks in I sometimes hear harps and angels. At this point Kylee is no longer is aiming to please me or gain favor with me thru her actions. She has moved on to doing and saying things only to make Logan do and say them even louder. It’s now a competition between Kylee and the doctor of who can talk the loudest. I try to keep my focus on the important medical mumbo jumbo the doctor is spouting out. Something about asthma, or croup… Or was it bronchitis? Kylee be quiet! I catch almost every 3rd word. I am giving the look to Kylee in hopes to ignite the fear but it wasn’t working. I was attempting to be one of those Love and Logic moms and I’m pretty sure I failed or at least got a C-.
We load up on stickers, stamps and suckers and hit the road. Kylee was trying to put her goody-two-shoe mask back on before I noticed she ever took it off. Nice try darling. In love and logic I politely told her if she ever behaved that way again, I would ask the nurse to give her a shot. Now that’s logic!

Monday, November 7, 2011

What a great weekend looks like

This weekend was AH-mazing! Filled will everything a weekend should be filled with. Fun, friends, laughter, picnics and memories…
One of my girlfriends shipped her husband off to the Texas Motor Speedway for the races so it was just us gals and our kiddos. We concocted a plan to take kids on a train ride and have a picnic. She and I are both super organized. We’re the kind of moms who always have extra, everything; the type of mom who could build a small race car out of the contents in our diaper bags and clean it with berry scented hand sanitizer. We think of everything ahead of time, and plan for every possible scenario. However we did not plan for or anticipate the car seat drama that would come from trying to carpool together. Third row seating should be sufficient when transporting multiple kids, but each kid wants to sit THERE and not HERE. In efforts to please each kid with an opinion we tried to fit 2 car seats and 1 booster in the middle row. But the superfluous arm rests on each car seat made it logistically impossible. We tried to force it, but it somehow ended with me cutting my thumb and silently saying screw it. We moved the booster to the 3rd row and asked for volunteers… HA! It was like a bad episode of I Love Lucy, or watching monkeys try to screw in light bulbs to a wall socket. Total confusion turned to frustration which lead to blood, sweat and tears. Literally. Strapping those kids in a car was like preparing for a NASA launch to the moon. But once we got everyone safely secured, we were off and already wishing one of us had remembered to bring a flask of wine. We decided to stop at the gas station for wine a couple waters and red bulls and in unison like a symphony the kids were begging to go in. GAH!
What would a car ride full of talking kids be without games?? Unfortunately my spunky and creative offspring was the chairman of the games. She created and made up the rules for all the games. It was one of those damned if you do and damned if you don’t kind of games. She would make up the most random rules, and when it was our turn, we would do and say and breathe exactly like she demanded and yet we still weren’t following the rules! So we suggested the quiet game.
We finally arrive to the miniature train station, unbuckle the herd and they popped out of the car like little jack in the boxes. We immediately turn on our mama soundtrack to track#1, STOP, DON’T CROSS THE STREET. Track#2, WAIT!  Track#3, I SAID WAIT!!! Then of course the kiddos have to pee, so we let them take turns peeing on and behind the porta-potty. Because peeing IN them is only for #2’s. We get our stuff and hear ALL ABOARD and we were off! The kid’s enjoyed the ride, and so did we. I think we found joy in the fact that the kids were forced to sit still in one place for an extended period of time. It was a miniature train ride for them and miniature break for us. Something I like to call strategy and WIN-WIN!
After the ride, we loaded up and headed to a duck pond for our picnic. The kids ran rapid, fed the ducks, fed themselves and enjoyed the weather. My friend and I actually got to talk about grown up stuff while the kids entertained themselves. When one of the kids told us they had to poop, that was our cue to pack it up and head home.
My friend and her son headed home for a little while.  We had a short intermission and she returned later that evening with Mexican food and another friend. We planned a mini-play date for the kids, but in all honesty it was just as much a play date for us girls as well. We let the kids dump out the toy chest and in return they allowed us to have a semi-un-interrupted conversation. It was lovely. I laughed so hard I felt my abs pulsing. It was a great Saturday night!
The time change never really affects me in a positive or negative way. I never legitimately feel as though I have gained or lost any time.  Realistically you don’t…. I know that is debatable but in my head, you don’t.
Sunday mornings in my house looks a lot the New York Stock Exchange when the DOW is down. (whatever that means) Lost shoes, mismatched outfits, lost bible, spilled cereal, gum in hair, screaming and total chaos. Ironic how chaotic Sunday’s can be when I prepare for it the night before. I lay out clothes, sit shoes by the door, get breakfast ready, yet somehow it all goes to haywire. But yesterday, we woke up and I had time to make breakfast before church… NOT lucky charms. But eggs, biscuits and bacon. A real breakfast. Not to mention we had time to get dressed with no fighting or wardrobe changes (Kylee), everyone knew where their shoes were, and we arrived to church and had only forgotten one thing. Another win! So maybe the time change does work.

 This weekend rocked! So thankful for the chance to make amazing memories with my wonderful kids and super duper friends!

Friday, November 4, 2011

I blame me

In life I have found that people tend to constantly seek and find people to place blame on. It’s an instinctual habit that we learn at an early age in life. I didn’t do it, she did! The natural answer to our parent’s question of Who did this is most always Not me and we almost immediately narc and blame whoever is around at the time. I am discovering the older that I get, old habits die hard. As an adult, I still encounter this inherent need to blame others. Whether I am doing the blaming or someone is blaming me. We all deal with it no matter what our age is.
This week was relatively excellent. Kylee has turned over a new leaf, or so it seems. Her attitude is changing, she is responding to me less explosively, she is respecting me and obeying me. Logan has discovered his voice and is not afraid to use it. But behind all good things lurks the enemy, waiting to kill, steal and destroy. I blame myself for allowing him to be successful last night. Not The X Man, Hannah Montana, the Ex-MIL not my lawyer. But me.
My 5 year old informed me of something that I am sure I was never supposed to know about and something that only reaffirmed my every doubt in her father. A tsunami of anger, frustration, disappointment, shock and fed-up-ness engulfed me. The questions my 5 year old had were completely unanswerable without implying things about her daddy that I would rather her find out on her own.
Of course I immediately addressed the latest issue with the X Man and received the same humdrum, predictable response. Relax, it’s no big deal. Stop over-reacting. Sorry you don’t agree…. Same ole same ole.
I set myself up for a 2 vs. 1 fight. I pursued a third party for help which I now know was a wasteful attempt. An I should’ve known better type of outcome. But nonetheless, I blame me. Every enemy you face requires some kind of fuel to keep pursuing you. They need to know that their attacks are causing damage and pain in order to keep putting forth effort on you, their prey. I provided the fuel last night. I willingly handed it over. I could have seeked God’s presence in the crappy situation I was in and asked for His words for a response. I could have prayed. I could have stopped to take deep breathes, I could have done things differently. Instead I answered with my flesh and feelings and allowed Satan to operate my thumbs as the texts steadily went out, one after the other. Insult after insult. I used very private details as daggers and threw them with unrelenting force.
I always begin and end my days in prayer. I usually pray after the chaos of the night simmers down. After dishes and Dino Dan, after baths and books, and teeth are brushed and hair is combed. I nestle into my bed and pray out loud. Last night I found myself on my knees. Which is really more symbolic than necessary. I like to reflect on the events of my day and find and recognize God’s presence in every circumstance.  It’s humbling to see just how available He was but I was too busy reloading my mouth to fire off bullets of pain.
 As I prayed for forgiveness, I had plenty of regrets on tap and repented for each one. I humbled myself and acknowledged the steps I had taken that did not glorify His name but rather fueled Satan’s bonfire of hate.  Asking God to reveal His truth is sometimes difficult to encounter. Especially when the truth is that I conducted myself the opposite of the way a Christian should. I profess faith in Jesus Christ and I aim to be Christ-like. But I failed last night. And the pain that accompanies letting down my Father has a lingering sting that doesn’t get relieved quickly. If not for times of trial and scrutiny, when will our faith be tested? In times of joy and happiness? Unlikely. In the midst of controversy we don’t see the great opportunity in front of us to be salt and light to the world. We see the potential to hurt one who has hurt us. We see a chance for justice and revenge. Something Christ never seeks.
I am still recovering from the hangover of guilt that accompanies my choices from last night. I’m finding a lot of peace, humbleness, hope and joy in the action of grabbing my blame by the balls. Ultimately, blame doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make you a happier person knowing who is truly at fault for something. It only draws attention to the injustice in your life and ignites the anger in your heart.
I am hoping this post will hold me accountable to my new goals.
·         Let go of blame
·         Forgive everyone
·         Respond with love or not at all
I’m certain this goal list will only continue to grow the more trials I face. I am not perfect and thankfully never claimed to be in writing. 
The secret to dissipating anger and resentment is found in forgiveness. Even if it was unrequested, give it anyways. You can’t forgive a person, if you’re still blaming them.
Someone sent this to me today and it was quite timely.
Now, the forgiveness that I hoarded has sprouted inside my heart like a crippled seed yielding bitter fruit.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

The X Man strikes again

While the kids were with the X Man this weekend I got all proactive-ish and cleaned out their closet and drawers. I knew I would never be successful at this if the kids were present because Kylee insists on wearing her summer dresses even when it’s 46° in the morning and claims it still fits as long as she doesn’t bend over, or jump, or move…. See mom?! It fits!! My good friend sent me her son’s winter wardrobe from last year, so I was able to restock Logan’s drawers quite plentifully and had enough to share with a friend and send some to the X Man.  It’s probably the most productive thing I did all weekend to be honest. Dude and I were invited to a costume party Saturday night.  Knowing the kids were with their dad and not at home with a sitter made the night much more enjoyable. I took my berry flavored 5 hour energy and had a really fun time together.
Sunday was the type of day I think everyone needs from time to time. I had no plans, no agenda, no errands, no chores and no responsibility. No one needed me. No one was making demands on me, or touching me, or climbing on me, or asking to be fed or changed. It was a peaceful, quiet and a lazy day jam packed with cheesy horror movies, pajama pants, Sonic cheeseburgers and the dude. I can’t wait to do that again.
Mondays after The X Man’s weekend is like Christmas morning. Around 3pm I start getting all giddy and excited. I become a minute hoarding clock watcher. When 4:30 hits all you can see is a trail of smoke from my desk to the door. Seeing Logan’s face light up and hear him wail, Mommmeeeeeeey is better than chocolate and peanut butter. Then we go to Kylee’s class and I get a second serving of excitement! This is something I never get full of.  It’s my consolation prize for being without them all weekend.
We I’ve been working on Kylee’s attitude and behavior a lot lately. I finally found a technique that is yielding significant results. She isn’t acting like Veruca from Willy Wonka anymore and we are really enjoying each other. Whereas before most of our time together was spent reprogramming what she saw, heard and did at her dad’s and reinforcing the reality that Not thirty-five and rules will be followed and enforced.
Unfortunately The X Man and I still can’t see eye to eye on whether or not to allow our thirty FIVE year to wear mascara. My stance has been clearly expressed to him, Kylee and to Hannah Montana. In his efforts to validate himself and his role as her father, he decided to buy Kylee her very own tube of mascara.  (Pause for applause) When Kylee told me that Hannah Montana and daddy said mascara isn’t bad for her eyes a blanket of emotions covered me. Not only are they both undermining me, they are gambling with my daughter’s well being for the sake of their own selfish desire for control. Kylee didn’t just fall off the turnip truck so she asked the very obvious question, “How come you say mascara is bad for me but daddy and Hannah say its okay?” After months of protecting her from the truth of her daddy, I decided honesty would be the best approach to her intriguing question. I told her that mascara is for adults, not kids. That she got pink eye from it before, that it could cause her eye lashes to prematurely fall out, that she might develop eye allergies, and all in all, YOU’RE FIVE! Let’s hope Kylee is mature enough to make good decisions about her health because her father can’t be burdened with that responsibility.  Obviously.
I wish I didn’t have so much X Man material to vent about. We get two blogs in without mentioning the stupidity and idiocy then BAM! Although Dude and his child’s mother have a good relationship so comparing the two would be futile. But as the “girlfriend” I would never want to cross any lines with his child’s mother. Maybe that comes from the mutual respect as a mother. Maybe it’s because I’m not 19. Whatever the reason, Hannah Montana has just officially earned a place on The List. At least The X Man’s first girlfriend had the desire to respect me and have a civil relationship with me. I feel double whammied. Not only do I have to endure disrespect from him, but from his concubine now as well? No thank you.
Since The X Man apparently makes parenting choices opposite of what he knows I desire, I might keep it to myself that I don’t particularly want Kylee to have a stripper pole in her room….