Shocked at Mass today

There was a family in the pew behind me at Mass today with a small child and a baby who I'd guess was about 14 or 15 months old. The little guy had a noisy couple of minutes and dad was trying to quell the noise. Then someone came over to them, stepped into the pew and chastised them. I couldn't make out everything being said. But the family responded by getting up and leaving in the middle of the Mass. I was not expecting that reaction.

I'm going to skip my commentary. It's well known with a simple search of my blog my thoughts and they have not changed.

You look good for .... what?

In the past several weeks, I have repeatedly heard "You look good for having five kids."

whut tha whut??

First of all, what *SHOULD* I look like for having five children? Well, 6 when you count angel Francis. Seriously. What is anyone expecting? Frumpy? Dowdy? Do they expect that I'll be dressing like the stereotypical evangelical homeschooling matron? Do you expect that I am supposed to look like I just rolled out of bed in my clothes from yesterday like a slovenly teenager from a 1980s movie?

Stop saying that to people.

Either we look good, or you look silent. Full stop. When people say to me "You look good for having 5 kids", I have taken to snarkily responding with "How about I just look good, period." What people see about me is physical appearance, and it is one that people want for themselves or they hate me for it. I have said it before, and I will say it again. I. CAN. NOT. HELP. THE. PHYSICAL. PERSON. I. HAVE. Do not hate me for winning the genetic lottery, because it comes with caveats. My grocery bill will forever look like I'm feeding a herd of teens. My clothing is difficult to fit properly because of curves, a long rise, big feet, and broad shoulders, and what is available in stores is not always appropriate for my age.

What you don't know or care to know is that I am not the picture of health. I have weak core that my chiropractor has been nagging at me for 6 years to rebuild. I have not done it. I own my laziness, and I make no excuses such as time, energy, etc. I just do not do it. I know this. I admit every second of it. What you don't know or care is that I have a high metabolism, and if I skip meals, I get migraines. It has gotten worse the older I get, too. What you don't know or care to know is that I think people who say "You look good for....(insert qualifier)" are problematic. You need to know and you need to care about that last one.

When you tell me I look good for having 5 kids, what you are telling my best friend with 5 kids is that she's fat, slovenly, ugly, a pig, or she is lazy. A lazy day for her still outpaces my busy ones by a million miles. She battled an eating disorder and STILL fights it daily as an adult. She has diastasis recti which is only going to be corrected by surgery because pregnancy really did a number on her and physical therapy has only done so much to improve it. When you tell me I look good for having 5 kids, what you tell another friend of mine is that she is inadequate for not being able to lose all that weight after just one baby. She has PCOS and some other issues, not that it is any of your business. Maybe it needs to be your business, so you can educate yourself on the challenges of that situation. What you're telling another friend who doesn't have any children is that she is not enough because she's overweight, and has no excuse for it since she didn't have any kids yet.

What you're telling me when you say I look good for having 5 kids is that I am doing something wrong. You're telling me that I shouldn't "qualify" to look this way, or that I shouldn't "qualify" to have 5 kids. Nope, no way. I don't need to qualify for either equation. I am raising kids to be independent, capable of functioning without me in the adult world, and to have the kind of work ethic to be a leader that gets stuff done. THAT is what matters most. Am I proud of the way I look? Yes, I am. There is no shame in the way I look. I know I am easy on the eyes, but I also know that could change in a BLINK with one momentary turn of the world. Do I enjoy getting compliments? Absofreakinlutely! Who doesn't!?!?!

I do enjoy the reactions I get when people learn I am the mother of many, and that my oldest can make the beer run for me, or that I am nearing age 40. It's fun. It gives people something to think about in terms of looks being deceiving. It boosts my mood when I hear a compliment. But a compliment should not come with a qualifier, or at the cost of someone else. Lift up someone's soul without exception, qualification, or exclusion. Do it because it is the right thing to do, or because someone's spirits just need the boost. Don't do it because your expectations and their reality are in different lanes.

Opportunities wasted

My son has T-Mobile for his cellular service. He went to a local franchised store to get a phone, and in the course of the transaction, the associate didn't give him his ID back, and he forgot to ask for it. Crap happens, everyone is human. When he was called later to notify him that his ID was there, he said "I don't have a ride to get it, I'll be back when I can." He could have called me to help him, but he knows we're quite busy here and it would be a bit of challenge getting it for him with everything going on over here.

Getting the ID back has proved impossible, and has demonstrated this local franchisee's lax levels of customer service. I spoke to the store manager yesterday, and was given one set of information. My son was there the day before but nobody could find it, and as such, he couldn't start a new job since he needs the ID to demonstrate eligibility to work. He called again today and was told the regional manager took the IDs to the DMV "to be mailed" but they automatically get shredded due to security regulations. OK, fine, but be honest with us, and say "sorry, they get shredded". Or maybe if your store routinely has a stack of IDs, get on the ball and make sure the IDs get returned.

On the first visit, my son was told that someone may have taken his ID home even. Uh, hellooooo!!! Now we're looking at the potential for identity theft! I am beyond livid with these individuals for their slackass handling of this, plus the appearance that there is a repeated problem with failing to return IDs, and the store manager not having the keys to the safe while in the store. My son called the corporate office to find out what he can do about it, and the corporate line said he would need to handle it locally. Well, clearly after the store manager gave me a line of fluff while I was there, and then told my son the regional manager took the IDs to the DMV, we were not going to get far locally. He called the store to find out the corporate number for the franchisee owners, and was told "1800TMobile" and the person hung up the phone.

I was done. Two trips to the store to attempt to retrieve the ID, various stories given about what came of the ID, the possibility of identity theft being raised, the abrupt response and disconnect, all left me livid. I called TMobile corporate on my son's behalf. Yes, he's 21, but he's also got a snot-filled head, and coughing, and I've got some skill in dealing with customer service.

I spoke to Adrian at the corporate office, related to her what our experience was and that we're horribly frustrated, having to replace the ID, and that now personal information has been compromised, leaving us facing any number of scenarios. Then there's a week of lost income for not having the ID. Plus, the store had the opportunity to demonstrate stellar service, and instead took the crappy path. Just be honest with us if there's a problem. If we had to get a new ID because his was shredded, we could've dealt with it Tuesday, yesterday, or this afternoon between appointments for my dad instead of chasing down bad information and service, and trying to sort around other logistics tomorrow or Tuesday - both horribly busy days for the DMV. We can't do it Monday because it's a holiday. Adrian offered a partial credit toward the ID, and advised us on putting a consumer statement on the credit files (which we already knew to do). She apologized for the way things got handled, but she shouldn't have to be the one to apologize. She said she would be forwarding the complaint to the company's appropriate channels.

When tasked with serving customers, mistakes can and do happen. However, HOW the rest of the problem gets handled makes a huge difference. Owning up to the error, apologizing for it, and doing what you can to rectify it will leave a positive mark for the customer. I will say that given the entitled mindset of a huge segment of the population, some people will never be satisfied because their tush wasn't kissed enough. But if there is an opportunity to make a positive impression, do everything possible to avoid warranting a call to corporate to have me vent about the poor service. I've been on the receiving end of those kinds of complaints and they are no fun. It's not cool to have to apologize for the errors other people make. And when you have to complain about someone else, be as kind as possible to the person tasked with taking your complaint. How you lodge it could have an impact in the resolution you get from them. They're trying to make it right with you, they don't deserve being abused for the screw-up someone else caused. They are taking the opportunity the first person didn't take.

Life matters, no matter the packaging.

There's a hashtag floating around, #blacklivesmatter and for some reason it has been a bit of a craw in my side and I couldn't figure out why. I think part of it is because the racism running rampant in our country angers me. But I also think that if there are going to be protests over things like police officers overstepping or using excessive force, then there should be protests over the neighborhood thugs doing the same. There should be protests over the incredibly low breastfeeding rates among black mothers, when it's a well-documented fact that breastfeeding a baby generally contributes to healthier children overall. There should be protests over the incredibly high abortion rates among black women versus other races. If black lives matter, then ALL black lives should matter from conception to natural death. If black lives matter, why is abortion so acceptable when it's involving an unborn baby whose heart starts beating right about the time a woman realizes she's late for her menstrual cycle, but it's unacceptable to cause enough harm to make that same heart stop beating once the person is born?
Page 6 of this report from the NYC Department of Health and Mental Hygiene breaks down the numbers by age, borough, race, and pregnancy outcome. It's eye-opening. This is JUST in New York City.
Where is the outrage over the loss of life at the hands of others across the board? Why are only the police vilified when every single day across this nation, not one person stands up on behalf of their neighbors who are killed at the hands of other citizens, often the same race as the victim? What makes the lives of the born more valuable than the unborn?

If you want to be one of the voices crying out that black lives matter, lets make sure there's an accounting for ALL black lives lost, born or unborn. Let's make sure we're calling into question everyone who is ending the heartbeats of other black lives regardless of the job title they hold. Let's go one step beyond that, and declare that ALL lives matter regardless of the outer package containing that life.

Of fire trucks and dreams

Clone needed black pants for her band concert this week. She hit a growth spurt RIGHT after we got her a pair for the December concert. Such is our luck, right? So, off to a second-hand store that sells kids' clothes. The store has this giant toy firetruck near the registers, with a sign on it that it's not for sale, just for fun.

Clone was in the dressing room, repeating every try-on session I've ever had. We've got ample bootie, and it poses challenges with proper fit, and my need to veto a lot of what she has tried on for putting too much cash and prize on display. She's got a long femur too, so it's a trifecta making virtually every skirt or pair of shorts too far north on her legs. I was poking around looking for cute onesies for chunk boy's summer wardrobe. He is his daddy's clone - long torso, short legs, not skinny. The kid's elbows have dimples.

Meanwhile, this little girl who may have been around age 3 or 4, was there with her mother. The little girl pointed out the fire truck to her mom, and mom promptly said "That's for boys." That little girl shrank. Not only did her mother shut her down, but then she squashed her daughter's interest in dreaming. I said something about knowing some women who are first responders that would disagree. Mama didn't seem interested in, or pleased with, what I said. Honestly, I did not care. Lord, please let this child go on a school field trip to a fire house and find at least one or more women in the line of duty. My heart breaks for that family, broken down before dreams even begin to take shape.

I heard "you can't" as a child. My mother heard it in her childhood. Some of the problem was that my parents didn't have the extra money for things. But pride got in the way. "Can't" should have been followed by "afford". The word "can't" in my childhood was translated to ability, not finances. It prompted me to be honest with my kids when things were unaffordable. "It's not in the budget" or "we don't have the extra money" is honest, and pride-piercing. But it's not dream crushing.

My dad let me tinker with his tools when I was a kid. I entered adulthood with small skills that paid dividends. I could make small repairs and saved money on replacing items or hiring someone to fix stuff. We lived in base housing when tropical storms blew through Camp Lejeune. Base housing has a list of self help items they can give residents to do things like change air filters, replace the hook and eye latches on screen doors, replace broken porch light globes etc. My screen door was ripped, and I couldn't open the door for fresh air without bugs moving in with us. I went to the self help shop at the housing office to ask for screen material. The guys looked at me like I was nuts, and said "it's not on the list of stuff we can give you."  He may have said something about my husband, but it's been so long, I forget.
I looked at him and said "Well, I have tools and a staple gun, and I can fix a screen door. Or, I can add one more piddly ticket to your list of work orders, and it'll be months before I get a screen door fixed because other people have trees in their houses." He paused a minute, sighed, and gave me enough screen for my door. I was an antithesis of the typical Marine wife, and I don't know that he'd ever experienced anyone like me before. The guys in the maintenance department appreciated that when I called for repairs, it was really worth their time, and not BS calls like someone's closet doors being off track and they didn't know how to get them back on there.

I realize it's an anomaly to see non-traditional roles in play. My sons can cook and clean, and my daughters love motorcycles. They've all played with kitchens, cars, dolls, and tool sets. Clone will say she'd rather hang with the boys because they have something interesting to say, versus girl gossip. Blur was at a party recently. There was a bounce house and the boys were being brutes. The other girls ran away, but my feisty redheaded little girl stayed put, refusing to cave to the boys' attempts to get the bounce house girl-free. A time or two, she may have done that running back block.

I want my kids to accept dreaming as a possibility. I want them to take leaps of faith and do things that interest them. I want them to not have to battle the inner bully of self-sabotage and self-defeat that I have. Logically, I know I can do things. Internally, I constantly nudge that timid child out of the corner, making her try new things, and do things she resists. It started with getting my motorcycle endorsement two years ago. It's incredibly empowering to learn to ride. It's incredibly soul-strengthening to get in the saddle over and over and build the skill and confidence to venture among the "cagers". I got sidelined a bit, but I will be getting back in the saddle in a couple years. My body still needs to rebuild, I have a new baby, and I'll need to take the endorsement course again because I have already forgotten a lot of it. In the meantime, I've found myself surrounded by a lot of awesome cheerleaders who help me stifle the inner bully, and spurn the timid child forward. I want my kids to see me go after goals, achieve things, and not defer dreams. I want them to strike out in search of their own dreams, and the best way to do that is by example.

nursing bra fix

Early on in my 5th pregnancy, I needed bigger bras. Knowing that the girls were only going to get bigger, and that I'd be nursing later, I decided to get the nursing bras instead of buying twice. I went to Destination Maternity and happened upon a buy 3 get 1 free sale. I got 4 bras, but 2 had extra fabric around the straps as cushioning. Unfortunately the idea was poorly implemented, and fabric wrapped around what I call the "pop top clip". Those two ended up languishing in the closet after baby arrived because I couldn't close them one-handed. I took them to a friend who sews to seek her wisdom. She took a seam ripper and cut away the extra fabric on one of the bra cups. Magic! The pop-top clip moved a whole lot easier. I brought them back home to finish the task.

I thought if I had this complaint, others did too. So I took pictures of the way I remedied the problem. If you use scissors, use small, sharp ones, and for the love of all that is holy to you, DO. NOT. CUT. ELASTIC!! For this to work, you must cut ONLY THE FABRIC LOOPING AROUND THE CONNECTION. The fabric that makes contact with the pop-top-clip is all you will remove, unless you opt to remove the cushioning fabric so you can adjust the straps shorter. That's up to you. Do not cut the seam in the bra strap or your bra will be of no use. Again, if you remove cushioning fabric, cut ONLY the outer fabric, NOT the elastic of any kind.

Here's your idiot clause/disclaimer:
Please use caution when handling any sharp object. I used a seam ripper. If you use scissors, do not cut the elastic of the bra straps. I am not responsible for blade or seam ripper placement when you do this, as I am not there to physically guide your hand directly to avoid rendering your nursing bra useless. Pay close attention to where you cut, and how you cut. If you lack the skill and confidence, you can hire your local tailor and show this blog post to explain what you want done. If you lack common sense, then definitely hire a local tailor. Come to think of it, if you lack common sense, child-rearing may not be an appropriate life for you.

As you can see in the after/before picture, there is significantly more room for the clip to operate. I don't know who designed this bra, but they didn't think very far in its wear and use when they thought of these things. It makes me think a man with no experience or exposure to breastfeeding and the logistics it requires had a hand in this detail.

The bras adapted here were Motherhood Maternity brand, molded cup, non-underwire bras purchased at Destination Maternity in the Spring of 2013.

I don't own an iron skillet

And it's probably a good thing. My MIL and her boyfriend are coming to visit with what I call short notice considering our work schedules and the energy levels of a certain gestating female head of household. My house is a total closetless, stuff-filled disaster, with empty boxes in a holding pattern for moving to a new house. My husband has been busy with work, and on his one day off prior to his mother's arrival, I don't see any results of his personal efforts to improve the appearance of the house. And to boot, he's gone to bed while I culled items in the den and he left RW to clean the living room strewn with Clone's droppings. An argument ensued between me and RW. Cranky preggo, cranky teenager. Really not a good mix, but we didn't throw daggers at least. I'll save that for the husband.
What?? I told you I don't have a skillet.

Coffee!!...must....have COFFEEEEEE!

I was awakened by a phone call this morning, in the middle of my multiple snooze button interactions. While I was taking that call, Devildog got up to get Clone ready for school. He's my hero like that because a well digger's backside has nothing on the current temperatures normally reserved for March around here. I finished the phone call and got up to make Clone's lunch and my coffee. My hero made the pot of java this morning, and he amassed additional brownie points for that act of love too. I was looking for certain containers for my Clone's lunch and started putting away some of the dishes in the drainer, in order to locate said containers. Apparently, some of us need coffee to make coffee.



I found the brew basket in the dish drainer.


"How did you make coffee without this?" (holding up the brew basket for Devildog to see)
::quizzical look::
::maniacal cackling::
He opened the top of the coffeemaker and pointed to it saying "Like that"


It wasn't a total failure, because coffee made it INTO the pot for consumption but it was certainly an amusing start to the day.

Food and Gratitude

I just finished consuming a bowl of some KICK A potato soup that I made. YUM-O-LAH! I'll post that recipe later, because I have to run out the door in a few minutes to get the kids to class. Which reminds me, I need to gather up the stuff I'll be doing while I wait in the parking lot. I could go to Mass, but I don't. No excuses, I just don't. I'm also not going to elaborate on it either. Anyway, yesterday I came home from work, and a 80 mile round trip utterly exhausted, legs aching to hades and back and starving so bad I had what Pioneer Woman calls LBSCBDO. In short, mama was stark-raving-crazy-hungry. The DH was ambivalent about HOW he wanted the chicken cooked, but I knew my first suggestion was not his desired meal. So I went about making it differently (and it was good too). While I was waiting for the meal to finish cooking, I decided that after seeing a recipe in a magazine at work for potato soup, that I wanted to make some for my crew. And if they didn't want any, then I would eat it. They can have the hot dogs that I'm allergic to for their dinners. In any case, I made potato soup last night in preparation for tonight's dinner because I was already on my feet, dead tired, cooking anyway and knew I wouldn't want to cram in a haphazard meal on a Wednesday. It involved a bag of forlorn hash brown potatoes that were in the freezer, onions, chicken broth, and milk. I'll give the instructions later.

In any case, sure enough I was just DONE when I got home from work today. I really need to replace my shoes, all the supports are long past shot. Brooks shoes are not cheap though. So, on my way home, I was just looking forward to stretching out my legs and catnapping in preparation for the length of time I would be in the parking lot at church with one or the other of my spawn. And I did just that today, so I'll be nice and awake when I'm busy clipping coupons or knitting, or something. On my drive, I got to an intersection involving an overpass, and my left turn takes me under that overpass, that almost always has a panhandler. The light turned green as this guy was getting some money from 3 cars ahead of me. It's been pleasant weather, so my windows were down at least halfway. As I drove by the guy (c'mon, that light takes forever and a week, I wasn't missing the green light), dude was COMPLAINING about the amount he was given. "Sev'nty five cent!?!?!?" with such incredulity that it made me complain aloud to no one in particular that he was such an ingrate and how does he know that the person being generous had just that amount to their name and gave HIM their last bit of money. Appearances aren't always what they initially seem, and that's more the rule than the exception in this world. Integrity doesn't mean much to many people, and gratitude surely escapes plenty of the oxygen-sucking masses as well. I can't say I've always been grateful. I've had my share of selfish, greedy and unappreciative moments in my life, and probably more will sneak out of me. I'm human, and I know this other guy is too. But what really torques my last nerve is that someone has the balls enough first of all to stand on a corner and beg for money (because as big as my set is, I can't see myself standing on the corner and sacrificing my dignity that way), THEN get bigger cajones by complaining about the difference between his expectation and the reality of what he was given. I'm glad my last seventy seven cents are in my bank account and inaccessible to me at that moment in time. I might have thrown them at this guy's head.

Brought to you by Lowe's

(If you're wandering here from the Suburban Correspondent, Welcome...I don't have as much to play with on my blog like she does. I have this issue with ADD, and have to abide by the K.I.S.S principle...as in Keep It Simple Sherlock!)

Brought to you in part by Lowe's....





Let's ... something together. OK, but I really don't know how qualified the dragonfly is to use the 5-in-1 scraper tool in the paint department.


Back story: I service the books and magazines at a few Lowe's stores and remembered that I forgot to do something at store #1 while in store #2. So, on the way home, I returned to store #1 to do what I missed the first time. I was walking down the paint aisle and two employees were eyeballing this peghook a little too much. I stopped to see what they were gawking at, and found a dragonfly for $6.98. It perched on the peghook for the 5-in-1 scraper tool.

Oh would you just get off the girl!

I awoke this Tuesday morning to news that reaffirms why I don't watch the news, or listen to it, unless someone tells me there's excessively tropical weather nearby. However, the alarm clock is set so the radio comes on before the obnoxious beeping. I hit the snooze less often that way. Then I get up and alllll over the news is blabbety blabbety about how a candidate's teenage daughter is pregnant........aaaannnndddd? This is your big news story? It's DRIVEL for criminy's sake! Girls younger than that get pregnant all the time, and there are no cameras in their faces. Well, there were cameras eyeballing Jamie Lyn Spears, but it's probably because the rag mags were tipped off by "reliable sources" close to the teen. Are the members of the media in other parents' faces asking, asking "where was this child's mother?" Oh well I can assure you where she was NOT - and speaking from experience, she was not wherever that baby was made. I have pulled some stunts in my life, and I will not disclose them here, but only to those I know, and generally fair amounts of alcohol are involved for me to tell them. My parents gave me the foundation and I was taught probably the same things this candidate's daughter was taught. My parents RIGHTFULLY trusted me, because I had not done much to prove them wrong about their trust for me. It's entirely possible this was a similar scenario with this teen of new notoriety. Well then along comes puberty and makes a girl a little grown up and a boy a little grown up and well lookie here....they do some grown up stuff. Oh look, that's not a new and noteworthy story either. What on earth makes it acceptable to cast judgment on a young man and woman who are willing to take the RESPONSIBILITY for the child they created?? She's going through with the pregnancy, like so many others do on a regular basis. He's not like most every Junior Schmuckatelli and saying "dat ain't mah babeh" and being splayed all over Maury and the like with a paternity test to prove where he'd been stirring his Kool-aid.
I'm speaking from personal experience that I still carry on my heart to this day. Do not judge this girl and her child's father (go see Matthew Ch 7 in case someone wants to just entertain a Biblical reference for poops n giggles). I knew the odds were stacked against me like a surfer's chance of staying dry in a crashing wave. I knew there was lack of sleep, and difficulty finishing high school, and getting a job to be able to care for my child, and not being able to earn as much because I didn't go to college, and the risks to my child's well being long term because I was a young, financially ill-prepared teenage mother.
I had an advantage that so many other girls like me lacked. I was raised with a moral backbone, and I was not left to fend for myself 100%, I was aided by my child's father, my family and my child's father's family. My child's father WANTED to be there, and he was. My family was angry with me and hurt by the circumstances, but they helped me - provided I was going to school and working. I did get some assistance, but I certainly was not getting a check to pay my rent and bills and sit around doing nothing. I worked and I went to school while someone else cared for my child. My child's father ended up enlisting in the Marine Corps because he wanted to make sure his child was not going to lack basic needs being met.

We did a grownup thing, we got caught in a grownup circumstance, we did the grownup thing and made it work. We didn't throw in the towel and walk away from a responsibility we created. But along the way, so many others were so willing to make an attempt to remind us of what we did wrong, and expected us to fail. Those individuals are STILL amazed that 16 years later, we're still together and we haven't completely failed. We're not perfect, never will be, but you're not going to catch me casting judgment on a young girl and her boyfriend because they are going to have a child together. Save the judgment for when it's truly due - as in when you're looking at your own screwups and realizing just how much an impact they had on yourself and those around you.
The opposing party's candidate was born TO a teenage mother in case anyone wasn't paying attention. Plus that other candidate plainly said "kids are off limits" in the campaign arena. However AFTER their parent is elected and they drive drunk, then the kids brought that crap on themselves.
Till then, just get off the girl. She's a rare one, and you'll not find many like her. She's not running for an office anyway, she's ineligible. Let her stumble into adulthood with some semblance of dignity. She just might surprise you.

I'm installing a mirror by the front door

Because two days in a row, I have walked out my front door and into public


like this:


Each day had its own shirt, but I didn't think it was blog-worthy till it happened twice.

Tell me what's wrong with this picture, and I'll tell you why I ask