Putting yourself in someone else's shoes

In an online loss support group, someone shared that they were told by a guy that nobody chooses to experience loss, but they DO choose how they respond to it. He just failed to comprehend how we simply can not just not-cry when there's a reminder. I suggested she put it in terms a guy who has never experienced a loss, or held a sister, wife, mother, girlfriend, or other female in the throes of grief over losing her child would understand. 
"Tell him to imagine getting punted in the nads so hard they may never recover, and he’s not allowed to cry, yell, double over in pain, wince, or even blink twice about it. He still has to go to work like normal digging a trench to lay conduit, or climbing a ladder to paint a vaulted ceiling, or pushing a lawnmower. And that he isn’t allowed to respond to it at all. He can’t even talk to his doctor, significant other, or minister about it. And then add to it, all his buddies tell him to man up and suck it up buttercup, it’s just a kick in the nads and he can still have sex." 

I'm sure watching a few episodes of Jackass might be a fair start in getting someone like that to gain any insight. Somehow, I suspect people like that will never get a clue till life slams them in the back of the head with a clue-by-four.

Daylight and diapers

Again, with the preference for the instant gratification of being on crackbook and the feedback I get over there.

It's been a crazy few months with taking care of my dad, then him being tired of being here and going to my sister's house. Dealing with him is more exhausting than dealing with a toddler. At least with a toddler, you can redirect and reframe things. With an elderly adult having dementia, they.are.not.budging.no.matter.what.you.try. Plus he helped install the buttons, she he can find them easier than the kids do. Mad props to anyone who works with elderly, or has a caretaker role of the kind.

The ability to breathe again has made me realize that I was whiny when I didn't want to take the kids to the store with me. I still prefer to go alone, but I don't bemoan schlepping kids as much - except when my 5 year old has been on Spring Break and not having a big enough outlet to expend energy. Taking her with me added about 45 minutes to the journey, and prompted me to get cranky.

And in my cloth diapering adventures, a product I use broke. I contacted the company about replacing it under their warranty, and was asked about using a new product. I'm certainly amenable to beta testing things. If the product can withstand my brute force crew, and our distinct lack of dainty-floweredness, then I will gladly talk about it. I have been tossing around the idea of creating another blog page specifically for product reviews anyway.

I recently posted a picture on Facebook of my drying rack full of diapers sunbleaching in the front of my house which faces West and gets more hours of sunlight than my well-shaded back yard. It apparently created an uproar with a neighbor. If you're a reader of my blog, you know I did not give a rip that this person took issue with it. It just means the connection with that individual got relegated to the next concentric circle away from the center of my people. I value experiences and insight from those around me. What I do NOT value is condescending opinion of how I should be doing things in my household, or opinions from others who do not take active part in my day to day living. I value people who are heart-in and hands-on with regards to our friendship. The fact that I have a better friendship with some people online elsewhere who I've never met, than I have with some of the people geographically nearest me is sad. It's not for my lack of trying. I do try to make person-to-person connection with people. The problems start with my shooting from the hip, but to put it nicely, I am authentic. Then it continues with my hybrid traditional/modern approach, because some people can not handle a blend when they want all one way or another. In short, I am too weird to be normal, but too normal to be truly weird.

I am comfortable in my own skin, and have been able to discern people fairly quickly in their motives and what kind of behavior I expect from them. I do my version of me really well, and that is what draws the kind of people to me who appreciate it. The ones who don't usually end up looking foolish in the end anyway by their own actions.

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.

My welcome? Wha?

When I re-start my search for a job, my resume will include "FIRM grasp of the English language and grammar, including appropriate punctuation, contractions, and spelling"
This is just one of the bazillion I've seen already in the course of dealing with the people tasked with the administrative segment of dad's care.

Bad assumptions

Today's post brought to you by this blog post someone shared on Crackbook. http://sylcell.wordpress.com/2014/05/31/to-the-lady-ashamed-of-being-pregnant-with-her-fourth/

I was not so much ashamed of being pregnant with my 5th, but just defensive. I got a few comments with my 3rd. "Oh, good, you are finally having a girl after 2 boys. You can stop now."
I got a ton more with my 4th. "don't you know what causes that?" "Don't you have tv/internet?" "are you Catholic or Mormon?"  So, naturally, I was guarded with my 5th. I was having my own internal struggles with it as it was. I did not need other people adding to it. But add to it they did. Because people are rude, insensitive, and can't see beyond the end of their own noses, they decided it was ok to say things they should keep to themselves. And because they didn't keep it to themselves, I took to my blog about it in response.

Then there is the assumption that parents with larger-than-average families are unintelligent, incapable, or "just a housewife".  I am reasonably intelligent, more capable than most women and a few men, and if you saw my house, you would not call me a housewife. MamaX3 has a degree, mad skills that I could only dream of possessing, plays more instruments than I can even name, sings, and runs me in circles. Someone said that she was "just a housewife". A short time later, a Disney movie was on and the kids were singing, so MamaX3 joined the song. The visitor was impressed. And MamaX3 took that moment to inform the visitor of her academic accomplishments, musical ability, a few skills, and tied it nicely in a bow with a pointed glare and "I CHOOSE to raise my children."


We are raising people who will be more compassionate, considerate, resourceful, and helpful than the bulk of the parents around us will raise their kids to be. We will raise people who go on to do excellent things, some may even do extraordinary things that impact history. We will be satisfied with raising people who do any variation of those things, and simply have great positive impact on those around them. So, while you're busy making a bad assumption about those of us with more than 2.3 children, we're a little busy helping shape your world of tomorrow. I've got 5 funny, intelligent, resourceful, and considerate souls who have already done some great stuff. What's your contribution?

Originality and Humor

When questioning the fertility and family size of folks who have more than 2.8 children, you are encouraged to avoid the same. trite. comments. every. single. body. else. has. used. before. you.

Seriously. It's lame. We live in a circus of our own, with our own brands of chaos. If you're going to waste our time with the same junk as everyone else, save your breath. It takes a lot to entertain us, given our own spawned clowns and elephants. It's the one common vent amongst parents of larger sized families.

The family of four kids I have doesn't really feel that large to me. But, I got lots of crap when I was pregnant with Blur. So you can imagine why I felt a need to just keep this fifth one off the radar completely. I was mentally and emotionally starting to come around to the idea of surprise #5, and then my husband outed me on Facebook with a post of an ultrasound picture. He missed the memo on my non-online-disclosure decision. I'd intentionally kept it off my primary page, and only shared in closed groups and private messages where I knew I'd have supportive, or at least funny, commentary.

And in that 21 week scan, we learned this baby had bilateral cysts on the choroid plexus. It's a normal variant, provided there are no other variants like the long bones being short. Thankfully the long bones were measuring normally, if not a week ahead of dates. (It explains the incessant craving for dairy, there was some bone growth & ossification happening.) So we had to do a follow up today. The cysts remedied themselves. The fluid was apparently just extra buildup in some hormonal surge and extra time was needed to reabsorb it. I don't have to go back to get that monitored. Then there's the issue of my "advanced maternal age" prompting things like needing a fetal echo done. Yep, heart is fine too. Everything is where it should be and functioning properly and well.

Since my husband outed me, I figured I'd post my own picture from today's scan. Apparently, I'm not stalker-worthy material and some folks were unaware of the story, and that surprised a few more folks. And then visibly, the belly is winning the race now, and it's darn near impossible to hide the belly, unless I don one of Omar-the-tentmaker's frocks. So, I'm getting comments in person too.

Here, let me just answer all the questions and save folks the trouble of asking. I want to spare you the trouble, and also spare you the dirty looks you'll get, plus the tone of voice, and sharp responses of which I'm capable of providing. Because like I said: It's lame, and it does nothing to entertain me. And it's just not funny. I'm easily amused, but the same questions just don't do it for me. Step up your game already. Be original and humorous. Give me something I haven't already heard.

Are you ready for it? Here goes:

1. Yes, we know what causes it. We've had 21 years of practice. We're damn good at it. We like it. We're married to each other, so we're SUPPOSED to be doing it with each other, not someone else. It's not wrong to actually LIKE your spouse. We've worked a lot of years to get where we are, and we like where we are. Don't be jealous that you can't get in on our party, ok? Just go get your own.

2. Yes, we have tv, cable, dvd's, etc and we utilize them. We actually have multiples of each. Oh, ANNNND we have computers with internet access, plus smartphones. We have friends. We have access to entertainment. And we have access to each other - you know like I said up  there^ in that spousal thing.

3. Yes, *I* am Catholic, but my husband is not. Our inter-faith marriage is always a work in progress, and we don't follow any one strict tenet versus another. Ours is an interesting dance of sorts, melded together the last 21 years with a lot of compromise after a lot of trial and error. Apparently, I'm a better Catholic than I thought I was, though. And apparently, I'm the kind of Catholic girl the Southern Baptist boys like. Take that as you will.

4. Yes, we've heard of birth control, and condoms, and at some points, we HAVE utilized a variety of all of them. I don't have to share this topic with anyone outside of my husband, I am not going to share the details of why, how, etc of what we do in that regard. I don't say a word about your decision to do permanent sterilization, hormonal birth control, barrier methods, etc. Be respectful of what we do, just like I'm respectful of what you do. In short, I stay out of your uterus, you stay out of mine.

5. Yes, everything OBVIOUSLY functions just normally, nothing is broken, so please tell me what is there to fix?

6. Yes, I have my hands full. I have a head and heart full too. The van is full. The house is full. The garage is full too. Our lives are full. How is yours? Is it full of good stuff or just junk and drama and crap?
There are people who completely ache and pay lots of money to ATTEMPT to even get a tenth of what we have. I'm truly and completely blessed, while my heart breaks for those who long for the simplest part of my life, and some may never have it. Don't tell me the obvious, because somewhere in earshot of your comment is someone else who you're insulting in the opposite manner, by reminding them of their empty hearts and arms. And there are those who have suffered the losses of 4, 5, even 8, or 12, or more babies and pregnancies. They are so grateful to have a baby make it into this world, while forever mourning the loss of those who grew wings before seeing light of day. They happily bring as many into this world as they humanly can. It hurts and it stings and it drives the knives deeper, while you twist them. Do you still feel brilliant saying that one?

7.  No, I don't know how YOU do it with just one, or two. Seriously, I need balance in my life, and I need my own interests and hobbies. I don't know how you can helicopter- and lawnmower-parent a completely normal child who has zero no neuro-challenges and come out the other side with your dignity and sanity intact, or theirs for that matter. I delegate stuff to the kids to do, as they become independent and capable enough to handle things. I've blogged about that before. Simply put, it's my job to create independent people who can function outside of me, and handle the hiccups of life. I have my own interests because one day those buggers will fly the nest and I don't want to be that mother-in-law that gets ranted about on the internet. I want my children and their families to feel like I respect their adulthood, and parenthood, and I will do my best to allow that by knowing my place in their world and not encroaching where I do not belong. I blessedly have a fair selection of wise in-laws who may not agree with how we do things, but they know it's not their family or household.

8.  No, I didn't realize that we didn't need to have any more kids. Thank you for telling me that. I didn't realize I was still 6, and asking for a second dessert an hour before bedtime. Last I checked, we are well beyond age 18, and still married to the same person after all these years. If I have my wits about me, we have kids who are 20 and almost 19. So unless there's some strange science or miracle, I think we are qualified to decide what my husband and I need, or don't need. I think your words simply speak of your own insecurities, and lack of time spent with us and getting to know us sufficiently. We are raising our kids in a manner that rivals most any other way modern parents do nowadays, and we've got one who was trained for management at his job as soon as he graduated high school, and another about to head off to MCRD Parris Island for boot camp. The Marines don't take *just* anybody. Our oldest daughter has life skills her peers can't fathom, and a perspective they won't achieve till they're much older. Our preschooler is articulate, funny, well-adjusted and capable of handling things kids her age still have a tantrum over happening, and she's fiercely independent. But they're still capable of being kids. We haven't robbed them of anything. We've sacrificed our own self-serving desires to give them what they need. We have indulged in some things, because we need balance and they need to see us doing our own thing, chasing our own goals and dreams, and they need to see us sacrifice for the greater good or to achieve those goals. Despite the fact that I'm running headlong toward 40, and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up, either.

9. Yes, they were all surprises. No, we didn't plan or try for any of them. They were all not in our radar at the times they appeared on it, and now we can't imagine that radar without them there. Then they brought friends to the party, who we mistreat just the same as we do our own. I have birthed and borrowed children, and never imagined this many people would call me Mom. I'm just glad I didn't have to change all of THEIR diapers, or potty train them.

10.  No, we don't know if we're done yet. We thought we were done with the last 5. No, we don't know if we'll have any more. Every time we have thought "done" and laid plans of our own, another mini human comes along and mucks up the plans. But it's cool. We make pretty babies with brains and a sense of humor. And they think it's pretty neat that mom & dad ride motorcycles. Well, dad does, mom's just good at dropping them and then getting pregnant again.
One other side note about the variations of these questions: Again, when you're asking a parent of one, or ten, about the number of kids, you're insulting them. And the ones who only have one or two who like previously mentioned, utterly ACHE for more kids and can't attain that are once again stabbed by your words. Why must you be so intrusive? Don't be offended if one of us snaps back with "Why? were you looking to hire me as your surrogate, because I don't know if I'm the one you want doing that. I might not want to give up a child to be raised by twits like you."

11.  No, I'm not easily offended. I married a Marine and had a bunch of children with him. When you have that combination, you recognize when God laughs at you (in my case, it's almost daily since the early 1990s), and you learn to live by that other Marine motto: Semper Gumby. If you think you can offend me, you can, but it requires extreme stupidity, lack of consideration and forethought, no sense of humor, and downright intrusive and demeaning foolishness. I am not sure you want to test the mettle of this Feisty Irish Wench. Some of the things slung at me verbally by strangers, meant to offend, really didn't do that. I've survived a number of things, including two teens at once - and one was a daily test of my faith and ovarian fortitude. I have reasonably thick skin, and some of you will be lucky I don't have him with me when you open your mouth.

So, please, I absolutely encourage you to get creative when you see me or my larger-family cohorts. Ask us something we have NOT already been asked. Or for poops n giggles, maybe say something encouraging to the mom whose day is shot because of that series of wackadoodle events instead of "well you chose to have that many". Yep, we ultimately did. Someone has to combat the stupidity of the world, and it may as well be us, because YOU are sucking at it.

I feel validated

I am a self-proclaimed slacker parent. I am NOT one of those helicopter, lawn mower, or incessantly intervening parents. This blurb online is one of many articles and anecdotes that confirm for me that I'm not doing it wrong. I have not scheduled my kids for anything except doctor's appointments and religious education classes. I've kicked them outside to play without structure, instruction beyond basic safety rules, and their own imaginations. If they took an interest in something, I let them take that lead. I have kids who, like my husband, do not like for me to nudge them too much. It becomes nagging after about the second time I open my mouth. At that point, they decide to immediately do the exact opposite of what I have been suggesting. It didn't take me long to figure out their modus operandi, and subsequently, alter my own when dealing with any of them. The kids have my big feet, and his method of doing things - their own. How's that for genetic quirks?

So, I can find enjoyment being a parent because these guys have their own minds and methods. Oh wait, that's how I wanted them to be. I have always wanted kids who could function in the world, apart from me, because I still haven't fully enjoyed my mid-life crisis, nor have I cracked too far into my bucket list. Then there's that whole issue of mortality. What kind of legacy do I want to leave via my children? Do I want kids who grow up completely incapable of handling the slightest wiggle to what life pitches?  Or do I want kids that make use of the brain and common sense God gave them? Yes, the toilet overflows occasionally. So reach back here and shut off the water supply before it gets REALLY messy, and this is how you go about effectively unclogging it without making it worse. Don't curl up in the corner sitting in poo water, whimpering about getting stinky and wet.

This morning, I was dragged from my bed at 5:10 to get Evil Genius to work at 6. We arrived at 5:36 to find 3 cars of employees waiting since 4:00 to be let in the door, and the building locked and alarmed. My 19 year old is in training to be a manager 8 months after starting his first McJob, because we drilled life's lessons into his brain, and he saw the examples we set and emulated them. He started calling the managers whose numbers he has. Secondary access to the building was gained, an alarm code shared, and employees could finally start prepping - 2 hours later than they should have been. From my mom-bus, I heard grumbling and whining from the other cars. Those are the same kids whose feelings will get hurt when they have to eventually answer to Evil Genius. How unfortunate that they were not happy to be able to get their work done finally. They would have preferred to sit in the parking lot looking at an empty building as customers came through, expecting their usual breakfast and coffee. They were going to get paid whether they sat or worked, and who wouldn't rather sit and collect a paycheck? (After a while, I'd find it boring and old, and start getting restless.) Meanwhile Evil Genius set about getting the workday started. THAT is the kind of result to my parenting that I was aiming toward. He hates being bored, and thrives on staying busy. He was a horrible kid when he was bored. He's not nearly as hyper and angry anymore since landing this job. The chaos to my calendar is an acceptable trade-off in exchange for seeing my son do a job he likes, and learning to lead.

However, I could absolutely do without this massive caffeine withdrawal headache from not getting coffee when I dropped him off, and coming home to crawl back in the bed. I should have stayed awake and had coffee at home.  Another lesson: the smallest of things you do, can have impact elsewhere.

Two weeks and still no go

It's been two weeks since I got my motorcycle endorsement. I haven't been riding since then either. There has been an array of delays in that arena. I was saddle sore from the crummy seats on the bikes at school. Then I lacked the strength to get Devildog's bike off the kickstand, and have been practicing that skill while I wait out exhaustion, busy work schedules, crummy weather, and the bike being in the shop on 2 of the most beautiful riding days. I'm afraid of losing my nerve if I don't get on a bike again soon. This week is a short work week, but it's starting off rainy. While we need the rain to keep the summer wildfires at bay, this is seriously cutting into my skill-building here.

When I told my dad that I learned to ride a motorcycle, his exact, and immediate response was "aw shit, you gonna buy a bike too?" No, but I'll probably get Devildog's and he's looking to upgrade (just as everyone predicted). His is a pretty red color that suits me anyway. And I have ideas of how to personalize the bike when it becomes mine. I want to learn how to do my own stuff like oil changes and things. Eventually we will figure that stuff out ourselves too.

Friday evening, I took Devildog to get the bike from the mechanic who did the maintenance for us, and the bike wouldn't start again. Devildog suspected the 8 year old battery was the culprit, but the shop doesn't stock batteries. So, we drove down the street to the dealer to get a battery to expedite this task. You can't go to the dealer and not look at the shiny toys in the showroom. I love messing with people in sales situations, especially when I know for a fact they're going to take me for the "little lady". In case you haven't learned already, I absolutely HATE being treated like a dink. Anything that I deal with that involves mechanical, construction, or vehicular stuff brings out the Inner Betty Badass. It's really fun to watch men squirm when they make the mistake of figuring me for a dingy broad.
So, I was just standing there watching Devildog sit on the bikes to get a feel for them, and the sales guy comes over and asks "So, you gonna trade in your sportster for something else?" Inner Betty jumped on the opportunity and popped off with "So, then what am I gonna ride??" Dude's face was utterly priceless with a barely audible "sorry" as he quickly maneuvered around me to get geographically closer to my husband. I'm sure this made my husband smile, and I'm pretty sure he told the mechanic the next morning about this exchange. I say that because when we went back to get the battery installed, Frank rode the bike around front, walked inside and handed ME the key. I asked why he was handing it to me. His very smart response: "Well, I dunno, I thought maybe you were riding today." I had to tell him nope, I didn't have my gear with me. I really love when a guy who doesn't know me from squat treats me like I have a clue. I love that my husband gave Frank the opportunity to make my Saturday morning too.

Parenting PSA

Do not act as a helicopter hovering, or a lawnmower to plow down obstacles for your children. You will assuredly end up with full sized ninnies who can't handle the simplest of things when they get remotely unpleasant. If the worst you can handle is a frown, the failure rests with those who did not raise you to learn how to put on the big pants and deal with it.

A few people who criticized my parenting in the past can suck dirt off my shoes. Because the approach I took with my kids is reflecting as such that my kids can handle life in general, and function independently of me and even go so far as to help other people. So my insistence that the boys learn to cook and do laundry is not selfish and lazy on my part. True, I may have had selfish and lazy intentions because I was tired of doing so much for so many capable beings, but at the same time, I've long held that it's a life skill they must learn anyway. I have other interests that I want to develop. I don't want my daughter-in-law to hate me because I failed to teach her husband the basics. I needed to have my own hobbies and life away from my children so that when they grow up, move out into the world and have lives and families of their own, I am not that meddlesome MIL who drives a wedge somewhere it doesn't belong. I don't want my grandchildren living across the country because I'm a pest. If they're that far away, at least it ought to be due to jobs or something else more worthwhile than evading an intruding old woman. If I must invade their territory, I at least hope to be helpful, and maybe entertaining while there.

Anniversary during Open Season

I'm still here. I'm still pregnant. I'm sadly absolutely useless to my friend Persnickety when she really needs help, and I forever feel guilty about that because I owe her some favors like big time.
And from what I can tell, being pregnant makes it open season to lots of people.
Apparently some people were COMPLETELY unaware that I was growing a human. Those that know me, know my kids have all been hiders and sit on my back till they run out of room and have no choice but to make their presence known to the rest of the viewing public. I bet you're asking how that is even possible considering the expanding form (my facebook friends can see the progression since January). Well the thing is, at work, if I can use the fart cart I do. If any store has it, I use it. So me sitting on a cart kind of hides the already hide-y baby belly that is there.
What? You mean just growing a human can't possibly be that arduous? I even got asked by an old man at the grocery store "what's your disability that you have to use the cart?" I told him that I was growing a human and she was doing things to my body he couldn't imagine and walking was damn near impossible for me right now. He then moved on to questioning why I was buying whole milk instead of just a box of powdered and putting water in it because it was just the same. He's lucky my dad is his age and I understand the history of these Depression Era thinkers, and I didn't snap his hairy ears off his head. Thanks Dad for teaching me to respect my elders, too bad the lesson wasn't reciprocative for the elders to respect the youngers.
For the past month and a half or so, walking has been not only difficult or at times impossible, but just moving was painful. After talking to a couple other preggos on my online board for other September due dates, I diagnosed myself with this thing called SPD or symphasis pubis dysfunction. Short story of it all, given my history of pelvic girdle injuries and the associated misalignment, plus the weight of a parasitic human and her warm, watery habitat, plus preggo hormone relaxin, equals one really over-stretched ligament/tendon between my pubic bones.
So that pretty much explains the horrid sciatic pain that prevented me from moving. I had some days better than others, but there were plenty of days I just wanted to cry from it - the pain and the frustration. One of my OBs suggested compression on my hips and I consider her a total God-send for suggesting it. While it didn't make the pain go away, it helped tremendously. It helped push the bones closer so the overstretched ligament wasn't getting away with shearing off the bone. The general recommendation that came from the other OB (who I prefer not to see but that's another rant elsewhere) was for physical therapy. I can only guess this guy thinks chiropractors are quacks or something. Not even going there, just praying that if I don't change providers this far into the human growth process, that this particular scientifically degreed individual does not do the baby catching. However, I disagree with him and started calling chiros on my insurance. The ones I called and that came recommended by others were hesitant to take me on as a patient this far into the game without my having prior chiro care. Understandable and I'm not going to fault them. I get it. I knew the problem I was having was due to misalignment, and I could FEEL as much when I moved certain ways in my attempts to alleviate things myself. I will just go to a chiro postpartum and get myself realigned as the case merits. I must have moved in a good way a couple weeks ago because after stretching a direction I hadn't tried before, something in the pelvic region moved and popped a bit. The next morning I was rolling over to get out of bed and somehow managed to get my hips to pop (and it was not painful- it was actually relieving!) and I have been able to walk again relatively pain free since. I do have to mind how I move, and how long I'm on my feet etc. However it's been a much welcomed break from the literal pain in my butt I had for many weeks. I prayed daily to St Gianna for help getting through that agony.

My nesting energy has been spent working, so I have been completely useless at home. The house has puked on itself as we try to get ready for Thumper's arrival. Devildog is the one that got the Clone's bedroom ready to accommodate another human of sisterly kind. Persnickety and another friend gave me enough clothing and linens that this baby is dressed till Kindergarten and I am NOT exaggerating. At that point we still have Clone's stuff, and I'm sure others will pass on the wealth later as needed. Here I was giving stuff to Clone's old daycare, the women's shelter thrift shop, and others I knew personally that could make use of things as Clone no longer needed or used them. Silly me, should've known another human would appear huh?

"When are you due?"
-September.

"WHAT? No way! You don't look that far along/that pregnant/pregnant at all"
-um, thanks? I sure as hell FEEL every bit as pregnant as I really am. Waddling since May, Devildog called me ducky. It's now my answer when someone asks "how are you?" They're not paying attention and think I say "yucky". Here's a q-tip, clear the wax.

"Don't you know what causes that?"
- YES! We're good at it, and we've had 17 years of practice! (Happy Anniversary of our First Date, my baby daddy!)

"How many is this?"
-This is baby #4, girl #2. Teams are tied.

"How old are your other kids?"
-RW is 16, Beast will be 15 two weeks after I'm due, and Clone is 7.

"Oh WOW, you spaced them apart didn't you?"
-Well they were all surprises and we didn't expect the timing or spacing, but the bonus is built in babysitters and helpers, and the older ones are self-sufficient enough that if I am unable to do something, any of them can do it.
(and yes, even the Clone can do her own laundry, take a shower, dress herself, get her own PB&J sandwich, salad, yogurt, drink or almost any number of things. I am big on kids learning basic life skills so I can go back to being a slacker mom. I robbed myself of my adolescent years having RW in high school and Beast right after I graduated.)

"Well are you or your husband going to get fixed?"
-I didn't realize anything was broken, nor did I realize Devildog and I were of canine variety. Can someone hand me a towel, my tongue is bleeding from biting it so I don't ask people if they're going to get the rectal craniotomy reversed.

More Teeth and Safety Schmafety

I had a dentist appointment Monday. The staff has become well acquainted with who I am now. I haven't been in 7 years since the last uppity dentist I went to ticked me off when they didn't send me a reminder or call me about my need for a 6 month checkup. I suspect it's because I had a remaining $7.62 balance from some fillings a few months beforehand and I was not one of those gullible patients that fall for their "buy into the whole glamorous smile" marketing scheme they had going. Seriously that guy's office had me watch a video on getting the perfect smile before I got any x-rays or a cleaning. I knew I wasn't going to be at their practice long. So, I knew I had some cavities because it's been 7 years since my last cleaning, and I'm not anal about dental care. Kate Gosselin would be horrified at our dental habits - and our house but that's another story. This new office uses a sonic scraper or something, and I don't like it. I'd rather have an hour of manual scraping believe it or not. Heebie-Jeebie big time for me. Since I can't get any x-rays because of the stowaway, Dr. J had to do a visual check only and make a best guess about the state of my teeth. One of my fillings from Dr. Uppity is meeting with some weak spots on that tooth. The hygenist snagged the filling when she flossed my teeth. It's still bothering me. I told Dr. J that I found my own cavities and pointed to my front teeth. Sure enough, all four of those suckers need work. I'm going to wait till the stowaway is born to do the fillings though. I can't lay in that chair very long before getting lightheaded, so I'm not even going to try it.
The rest of my errands after the space age dental scraping and no x-ray cavity inspection included Target. In the parking lot, the woman I parked next to was loading her loot and her infant in the baby bucket in the Nissan Xterra. No big deal right? Well this baby maker was buckling the baby seat in facing forward. FORWARD, as in not the way the seat was intended, nor the way federal law mandates infants face in a car. I said "I think the seat is backwards." and she just looked at me like "what the hell do you know." And how much do you want to bet that if she gets into an accident and something happens to her child, she's going to be first in line to sue the car seat manufacturer. Why? Because apparently a representative from the carseat company wasn't there to hold a gun to her head and make her turn the bleeping seat around to face the rear. Wait, but didn't she read all the idiot clauses on the seat, the box, the printed materials, in her vehicle's owners manual? I'd bet not. Once again, Darwin fails to open that back door of the waiting room, and it still overflows.

Trying

Today is my little brother's birthday. Of course he's taller than I am, but he will ALWAYS be my LITTLE brother. Sadly I didn't get him a birthday gift yet. Being broke sucks like a shop-vac. I got him a stocking (disappointingly empty even) with our favorite college team and he was pleased. He's always so appreciative of the crap I give him. Devildog isn't quite as appreciative, but then again, I give him a different type of crap than I give my brother. Anyway, on to the purpose of my post today...it's a blog about the husband.
Devildog got home from work and apparently needed to download his day with me. There was a very challenging customer who called trying to get something she honestly was not entitled to receive, and attempted to do so with sniping, name calling and lies. Really....that whole karma thing never occurred to her apparently, because it came back to bite her unsunny place. There was another associate in the store who left their assigned department hanging while he took an early lunch break, resulting in a very frazzled associate that was left behind to tend all those customers solo. Sales plan buddy, it's one of those key indicators that the big cheese in corporate offices use to determine how many hours you get to work, and if you even get to KEEP your job. I'm sure this individual simply does not care about that at all. The big puzzle of a store's day is lost on that associate. There were inventory issues needing to be sorted out and remedied. And transfers were arranged, of course I got to hear about how one store never reciprocates and how that just peeves Devildog to no end (among other things I shouldn't repeat).
Then his lunch break was no exception to the Darwinian associations. He went to McDonald's...they know him there and he never deviates from his usual. When I worked at McDonald's (looks at oldest...) 16+ years ago, we had our "usuals". Regina always got a double cheeseburger, small fries and a small coke. She ate all her meals at McDonald's and one time threw me for a complete loop when she ordered a McRib instead, laughing heartily at foiling my attempt to beat her in the door and have her order ready to go for her. There was the hoarding curmudgeon who drove a late 1960's Chevy 4 door loaded to the top with old newspapers. The trunk, back seat, floorboards and front seat were full of papers. I suspect the lack of comfortable space contributed to his crankiness (clutter does that), and he was very terse. My husband is a regular, except he's not all that eccentric as those etched into my memory of my days at the mcjob. He likes his burgers plain, and nothing has changed in all the years we've been together. No condiments please, except cheese. His McPals near the job know this and try to have his food ready for him. Today there were 6 in line, Devildog included. He and another party in line had special orders. Everyone else had stuff they generally have at the ready. This other party ordered twelve (yes a dozen) double cheeseburgers, no ketchup no pickle. This large special order was second in line, Devildog was sixth. These two individuals were getting testy because people in line behind them dared to order food that wasn't a special order, and got their food ahead of them. They were saying things like "our food? anytime soon? like now?" and other insolent things that make the employees move slower just to be spiteful. I wouldn't dream of knowing anything about this, but I've heard things indicating as much. Devildog, having been on a roll with this difficult customer and annoying coworker interjected with his rapier wit. "Oh be patient, grab a chicken and gnaw on the leg to hold you over. They have to go out back and catch the cow and slaughter it for your burgers." The crew was just waiting to see what came next. Impatient Special Ordering people got puzzled and gave quizzical looks. Devildog had to break it down for them, because their apparently excessive grease consumption fried their cognitive abilities. "What do you expect? You come in here and order not just a special order, but a LOT of a special order. It's coming, they're working on it and it will be up in a minute. Geesh." Impatient Special Ordering people were not amused. Further proof that too much grease isn't good, it zaps your humor too. Eat a salad people! The roughage might clear the blockage and you may one day laugh again. However the McCrew was really bemused by Devildog's candid assertion and he became endeared to them that much more for it.

Devildog got back to work and there was more trying of his patience. He was saying to no one in particular "I'm trying to be better. I really am, but it's hard to be nice when they're being stupid." And a nearby coworker was quick on the draw and quoted Ron White. "You can't fix stupid". And it doesn't matter how much you try, that condition is just irreparable beyond any hope.

Can I borrow your fork?

Because really, somebody stick a fork in me. I'm done. I did not wake up this morning with the goal of being a stark raving lunatic yitch. By 6 PM, I'd worked a few hours of the phone job, been tortured by the 15 year old asking to use the computer (nevermind that he went well over his allotted time last night), annoyed by the 14 year old talking in such a way that was only grating my nerves because his brother strummed the last patient chord I had, and heard "Mommy" from my 6 year old so many times I asked if she realized Daddy was even home, awake and could be found to lend assistance too. While there are glaring exceptions to my next statement.... a penis does not always mean total incompetence. Really, he helped spawn the spawn, and he's capable of being a parent-type, even if he's grumpy. Poor man, he stayed out of my way, but failed to inform the kids. He said it took him 16 years to learn this, and the kids would have to learn the hard way like he did. I had my fill of annoyances by 5:30 when I went outside to seek quiet and discovered half my trash was still sitting BESIDE my trash can, yet the collection trucks had come and gone already. Oh and lovely holiday week that it is, the city one-call line is closed. I just want Waste Management (with their green trucks and 'nifty' WM logo to come back and pick up the trash they seemingly left on purpose. They're not city employees, they're contracted company employees. And one more whiny request begging to use the computer and a "mommy" from the clone for good measure, I grabbed my keys and left with the clone to get away from the chaos. Except, I was JUST as annoyed by the crazy people on the road with their freaking out "omigod-it's-almost-Christmas-Eve-and-I-HAVE-to-go-shopping-NOW-on-my-way-home-from-work" mentality. Road rage plus teen torment equals really mean me.
I forgot to mention Devildog is coming down with the same stuff again that he had at Thanksgiving and didn't want to do anything at all today on his day off, which is part of why he's grouchy. He said we could decorate the tree when he's at work tomorrow. The boys brought the tree out of the attic, so at least it's available now. But seriously, the man fails to realize that if he'd given the kids permission to set up the tree (Charlie Brown model that it is), that they would have been entertained for a while and wouldn't have been strumming those chords with me. I MAY have been less irritated in general and wouldn't feel like a Christmas grinch right now. I still have a tension headache, and the oldest tension-causer is STILL awake and occasionally trying to join the cranky adults to seek entertainment.
Of course, some of the headache is from my eyeglasses breaking last month and the optical place giving me a run-around. So, me being me, I emailed the vendor for clarification because I absolutely KNOW that in March when I ordered them, the guy at the optical place told me they had a one year warranty. When I remove the glasses from my face and the nosepad stays on my nose...seems a little warranty related to me. So I've been a month without full use of my glasses and I miss them terribly. I haven't had time coincide with location so I can go seek a replacement frame for my glasses. We get new insurance at the first of the year. I may be able to get a new pair then, and if so, I'll make sure I find a frame that has a different style nose pad that can be replaced with replacement parts.
I'm just a barrel of monkeys when I'm this kind of compounded cranky huh?

Darwin? You wanna open the back door yet?

I had a rather unpleasant (and that's putting it very nicely) interaction with another parent at school this morning. The other individual seems to think they're above the rules and laws, and I being the Feisty one that I am...called this individual on their error. They proceeded to be nasty and vile about things. I have certain options I have not exercised yet, but there were two other parents that saw the interaction as well. I am really trying not to waste any unnecessary energy on this individual who should be at the door to Darwin's waiting room, but the devil keeps throwing it back out there for me to recall. So, this individual, along with others like this one....really should just go hide back in the corner of the waiting room and stay out of the middle of the public arena. Because, really...there are other people needing the oxygen being used by those who should have exited the other door of Darwin's waiting room a long time ago.

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.

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.

Road Rage Ramblings

As I drove to my first store this morning, someone paused at a red light long enough to decide that my van was new enough to replace their older model small pickup truck with manual transmission. It was either that or the fact that I have a mom-mobile that makes lots of drivers think that cutting in front of me is grand sport. Fine, cut in front of me but at least use the long one on the right when you do it. And for the love of Pete, if you're going to jump in front of me in a stick-shift, you really should be FAST ON THE CLUTCH! If your vehicle is too old to be fast on the clutch when you cut in front of someone then my personal suggestion, and I'm sure others will agree, would be to WAIT for the pretty red light to turn green. THEN proceed to slowly shift gears on a major thoroughfare and get up to speed. Oh how I do not miss a daily commute with the other cognitively challenged drivers in this city. I am looking for a job, but prefer to stay closer to home JUST for that reason. I'm allergic to stupidity, in all forms. The allergy is why I am avoiding call center work. People who can't figure it out, call the company, and I happen to be an idiot magnet often enough as it is. I'm smart enough to know my limits and work within them. Small workplaces close to home with people equally allergic to stupidity as I am.

Idiot Clause

I have been finding blog fodder cropping up in the mornings here lately. Today was prime example. Everyone in my household drinks coffee, and we use plenty of creamer. I stopped to get more creamer yesterday after work. I almost got the small plastic bottle of 32 ounces for $2.50 when I discovered 3 shelves down and to the left, this nice big 64 ounce carton for $3.99. No need to explain ALLLL the bonus points for that one...ok I will. To buy two plastic bottles derived from petroleum = $5, plus 2 bottles sent to recycling and it's ultimately a dollar more expensive, unless you use that $.55 coupon in that handy dispenser then it's only $.45 more for the same amount of liquid inside the container. Plus I would have only bought ONE at that point, and would have had to return in a few days to get more = using more ga$$$$ also derived from petroleum. Ok, math, economics and environment lesson complete here. Oh, and do not harangue me for giving my kids coffee either. I've seen that spider video and I don't care to be honest with you. Coffee is cheaper and with fewer long term side effects, such as the hereditary liver problems on my maternal side of the family, than any ADD/ADHD medication (caffeine addiction notwithstanding, but that's less heinous than other addictions I assure you). Anyway back to my bloggy morning. As I opened this new container of creamer, I saw it. The proverbial "Idiot Clause" companies have had to resort to including on packaging simply because Darwin's waiting room runneth over with great abundance. Some plumbing fixtures aside, it's generally common sense that "lefty loosey, righty tighty" when opening round things that twist. Apparently there are more stupid people on this earth than I originally thought. The food packagers now have to give their smart customers a chuckle and a blog to read and give their stupid customers directions on how to open the package. Due to poor quality photo taking equipment, small print on the package and bad fluorescent lighting, this picture will not get any clearer. For you reasonably intelligible readers, you pretty much know what it says.

For those who need a translation:
"Twist to Open -->"