Target Gift Card/ Saying Mean Things

            
On Sunday I picked up my oldest daughter from her sleepover and I sent her straight upstairs to clean her hell-hole of a room. "Clean it good, don't just throw everything in your closet like your mom does." Do as I say, not as I do. Bad Mom Award. She was up there for a long time. I heard the vacuum going and everything. She came downstairs afterward and was very excited. She was holding something behind her back.

"Guess what I found in my room, mom?" I looked up at her, "Iran's nuclear weapons?" She laughed, "No. The Target gift card that I got for my birthday." I asked her how many months ago her birthday was. She counted on her fingers, "Seven!" I shook my head. "That is sad." She begged me to take her to the store to spend it. I went upstairs and verified that her room was clean and off we went.

I should have known it would be the longest trip ever. My daughter is the most indecisive person on the planet. It's very annoying. She wanted to get a skirt, so we went to the clothes section. She went through every single item. Something was wrong with everything. "Too ugly, too expensive, I hate it." Then she wanted to walk through the toy section. She examined every one. Then she wanted to look in housewares to find something in her room. We looked at every blanket, mirror, and basket. She couldn't find anything she wanted. Then we went in the shoe section. She hated everything.

I am not kidding when I tell you that we were in Target for an hour and twenty minutes. It was mind numbing. I was just picking up random things and trying to sell them to her in an attempt to get the hell out of there. "What about this pillow? It's Chevron. You like Chevron and you love pillows...." We would have been there longer but I finally lost my mind and told her that she could save the gift card for later. We were walking out and she saw the candy section and decided she wanted to buy $8 worth of candy. I'm making my husband take her next time.

We got home and my youngest was personally offended that I didn't get her anything. I explained to her that her sister used her own gift card but that didn't matter. I still got berated.

The next day after I picked my youngest up from gymnastics she asked if we could go get slushies. I told her no. It was cold and I was tired and money doesn't grow on trees. She told me that I never get her anything and I always get her sister things because I love her sister more. I told her to give me three examples. She does this to me all the time to try to guilt me into getting what she wants. It's not going to work

 She said, "You got her tic tacs at the store the other day." I replied, "She went to the grocery store with me and I offered for you to go and you didn't want to." She huffed, "Well you just bought her 3 new shirts." I sighed, "Because she grew out of her clothes. When you grow out of yours, I will get you new ones." She was frustrated and mad. "You are so horrible. You just hate me. You are the worst mother in the world."

I shrugged and ignored her. She sat in the passengers seat with her arms crossed. Then she began to sob. "Why are you crying?" I asked. "I'm sorry.I always say mean things to you and hurt your feelings and you are going to hate me one day." Lord in heaven. "I will never hate you, but I know a good solution." She looked up at me, hopeful. "Just stop saying mean things to me." She threw her hands up in the air, "That's impossible! I don't know how." Then she started sobbing even harder. I had two words for her: Bed Time.

She was better in the morning. The kids had off from school today due to bad weather. My oldest went to the neighbors house and avoided us, as she does. My youngest wanted to play card games. She was so happy and excited. I dealt the cards and I was whooping her behind. She was getting so frustrated. She began to sing a song. She opened her sweet little eight year old mouth and sang, "Black hole sun won't you come and wash away the rain...." I lost my mind. I was laughing so hard that I was crying. She was confused. "What?" she asked. "How do you know that song?" She rolled her eyes at me. "I know all the 90s songs." Other parents expose their kids to Beethoven and Mozart. My kids = Soundgarden. It could have been worse. She could have bust out with: Rally round the family with a pocket full of shells. Bad Mom Award.

Practicing the Middle Finger

                              
My kids are pushing me closer and closer to the edge lately. Friday morning was literally horrible. School had a delayed opening due to bad weather. One would think that this would relieve the regular morning hustle, but no. I am not so lucky. We have the same fight every morning. We leave the house at 7:00 and I drop my youngest off at the elementary school between 7:17 and 7:20. The bell rings at 7:30. According to her, that is not acceptable.

She wants to get to school at 7:00 so she insists that we leave at 6:45. I am not doing that. I tell her every day. She never listens. She screams "I'm late!" in the car every day. Instead of blaming it on me, she blames it on her sister. Granted, my oldest is a pain in the ass in the morning. It is a struggle to get her out the door at 7:00. I make her pick out her clothes the night before but she takes forever to do her hair and whatever other crap she does.

Friday I knocked on the bathroom door. "We need to leave in 5 minutes." She yelled back, "I'm doing a dutch travelers braid. I'll be out soon." She is a ninja at braids. I went back 5 minutes later and knocked again. "We need to leave NOW!" She swung open the door and her face was all white. She screamed at me, "GOD MOM! I'M TRYING TO MOISTURIZE MY FACE!!!" I was like:
                      
"Just get your ass in the car." I went to the car and my eight year old was sitting there melting down. "I'm going to be late." She was not going to be late. I was highly irritated. I beeped the horn and my ten year old came storming out, with an annoyed look on her face.

She climbed into the backseat and slammed the door. That's when the onslaught started. My youngest turned around, "You always make me late! I hate you."

"I was getting ready."
"You are ugly and no boy will ever marry you."
"I hope you die young."
"I hope YOU die young."

I couldn't take it. "EEEEENNNNOOOOUUUUGGGHHHH! SHUT UP THE REST OF THE RIDE. YOU BOTH ARE HORRIBLE." I hate when the kids fight with each other. They were saying the most hideous things to each other. I had half a mind to drop them off at school and then drive to the Greyhound station and buy a one way ticket. I'm not going to lie, I fantasized about it. Just me on a Greyhound bus to nowhere, with my only belongings in a shoe box on my lap. It got me through the moment.

I dropped them off and made it home without blowing a fuse. I walked through the front door and my husband could tell I was not in a good mood. "What's wrong?" I sighed, "Our children are A-holes." He laughed, "I know."

That night was better. We watched Earth to Echo together and they were reasonable. We had a nice family night and the events of earlier were washed away. I went to bed with the hope that I might sleep in today.

At 6:30 this morning my eight year old tapped me on the shoulder. I opened my eyes and her face was in my face. "Mom, I can't find the cantaloupe." Oh My God, why? "Eat an apple." "I don't like apples." "Eat a banana." "I want the cantaloupe." I told her that I wasn't getting the cantaloupe and she finally gave up. She left me alone....for 11 minutes. I felt a tap again. "Mom, mom. I need to get something off my chest." I was sure this was going to be good. Whenever she bares her soul to me, it is always something shocking. She didn't disappoint.

"What is it?" She hesitated a moment. "Promise you won't be mad." This can't be good, I thought. "Okay." She paused and then continued. "A few months ago....I was practicing the middle finger." I sat up in bed, "What?" She said it again, "I was just, you know, practicing the middle finger." "Why?" She shrugged. "I don't know. I was just thinking about it." "Where were you practicing? In your room alone?" She lowered her head. "No. In the car pick up line." "At school?" "Yeah."
                          
"You are lucky you didn't get caught. You shouldn't be practicing the middle finger." She began to cry. "Mom, it's in the past. What's done is done. We have to worry about the future now." It took everything I had inside me to keep a straight face. "If I find out that you do the middle finger again you will be grounded for life. Do you understand?" She nodded.

My oldest daughter rolled out of bed around nine and asked if she could spend the day with a friend. I told her she could and dropped her off. That afternoon she asked if she could spend the night. I told her that she could and that I would bring her a bag. She texted this to me:

Mom, I need you to pack these things: 3 pairs of socks (including my fuzzy ones), underwear, pajamas that I like, shorts (just in case), tights (the good kind), a soft shirt that I like to wear, retainer, tooth brush, moisturizer, brush, flower pillow that is on my bed, blanket that I used to bring to camp, phone charger.

Get the hell out of here. Why do you need 3 pairs of socks? I didn't text that back, but I wanted to. I actually gave in to her ludicrous diva demands. I felt like I was going on a damn scavenger hunt. I went into her bedroom, which I usually avoid doing because it looks like it should be on an episode of hoarders. I make her clean her room every weekend, I don't know how it gets so bad. There were band aid wrappers, candy laying around, towels hanging off the bed, shoes shewn all around, empty water bottles on the floor, MY body spray, shirt, and various other things she steals....I mean, borrows from me. I am sure the portal to hell is somewhere in that bedroom.

I was pissed. Being in her bedroom put me in a bad mood. I finally found everything on her list. I took the bag over and kissed her goodbye. I leaned in and whispered, "Have fun tonight because you are spending all day tomorrow cleaning your room." She gave me a mean look. "I love you," I said. "I love you too. See ya."

These kids, what am I going to do with them?

Busy, Busy

When is the last time I wrote a blog? I don't even know what day it is or who the hell I am anymore.

The past week has been insanely busy. In the past seven days I have done the following:  mopped the house once, cleaned 3 toilets, loaded and unloaded the dishwasher 8 times, been called in idiot in public by my 8 year old, baked 52 white chocolate stuffed sugar cookies, fed the dog 11 times, took my grandmother to breakfast, attended 1 Chik-fil-a school fundraiser, attended 1 evening PTA meeting, attended 1 Valentine's class party, drove to North Carolina to be in and attend my sister's wedding, hosted my brother and his girlfriend in my home for 3 days, hosted my mother in law for dinner 3 evenings, washed & folded & put away 22 loads of laundry - yes TWENTY TWO, went on a bowling excursion with my family, packed 6 lunches, paid 3 bills, drove a child back and forth to 2 gymnastics practices, drove a child back and forth to 2 acting classes, stayed up ALL night 1 time, held a vomit bowl for my child 11 times, changed 2 sets of vomit sheets, changed out 1 vomit comforter, was vomited on 1 time, scrubbed vomit from the rug 1 time, cleaned out a bathtub filled with vomit-water 1 time, rubbed a little tummy for a cumulative 2 hours, went grocery shopping twice, pulled out a molar with my bare hands, helped with 4 math sheets, quizzed for 2 vocab tests and one social studies test, scrubbed dog pee from my carpet 1 time, received countless hugs, kisses and smiles....

I'm not complaining, I am truly blessed. It's all good stuff - mostly- well, except for the vomit. I am just exhausted. I have been powering through. I was glad this evening to FINALLY get a chance to relax. I took my daughter to acting class and then sat in Starbucks for an hour alone and did NOTHING. It was the best thing ever. I had leftovers to heat up for dinner, then I was going to lay down and relax. NOT.

Mothers do not relax. It is not a thing, there is always something to be done, something is dirty, someone needs you. We sat down for dinner at 6 pm and my fifth grader announces, "Mom, we need to go to the store after dinner because I have a project and need modeling clay and stickers." I looked at her like she lost her damn mind. "I'll go tomorrow." Not so fast. "It's a group project and we have to start working on it in class tomorrow." So much for relaxing. "Why do you do this to me?" I asked. She shrugged, "It's your fault, you had kids." I gave her a mean look and replied, "I made you, you better not get smart with me."

After dinner, we loaded into the car. It was dark and I was exhausted but we journeyed out to the Dollar Store and AC Moore anyway. On the way there we went through the list of what we needed to get. I thought it would be quick. We went to the Dollar Store and grabbed the stickers and then went to check out. There was one cashier and we were the third in line. The person checking out purchased what looked like 80 mugs.

The cashier was SLOWLY wrapping each mug individually. One.at.a.time. I almost lost it.

This was me on the inside:
        
I left. I will pay $11 for stickers at AC Moore, f*ck this shit.

I went to AC Moore and argued with my daughter about what color sand was needed and found some stickers. We finally made it home 45 minutes later. As soon as I walked through the door, my 8 year old said to me, "Mom, you need to give the dog a bath, she's all muddy...."
           

Later, I got a phone call from my dad. "Your cousin had a baby," he said proudly. I smiled, "Well, I hope she likes hugs and kisses and hates her sleep and sanity."

That's the mom life...

The Leg Shaving Incident

                     
My daughter had a friend sleep over this weekend (what's new). Her little friend is one of my favorite people in the universe. I love her like she's my own. Her parents are great. We just enjoy her. She constantly says completely inappropriate things, which I find hilarious. At breakfast on Saturday, I don't know how this came up, but she told my daughter that my husband and I probably do "strange things" together when we're alone.

She's right. We do strange things together when we're alone. My husband plays the XBOX while I dance like this:
                                        
I told the girls to get dressed because I was going to take them to an event that the library was sponsoring and then I told them that I'd take them to lunch afterwards. They went upstairs to take showers while I cleaned up. Afterwards, I went upstairs to get myself ready. I walked into the bathroom and there were band aids spread all over the counter top and a cotton ball with some blood splotches on it. I went into my daughter's room and asked what happened. She shrugged, "Blondie just scraped herself." I didn't think anything of it.

I took them out and we went to lunch and had a fine time. We came back home to get her friend's stuff before I took her home. They had changed into shorts since it was hot. Blondie wanted to sit in the front seat. She took her shoes off and put her feet on the dashboard. I looked over at her and noticed 3 band aids near her ankle. "Is that where you scraped yourself?" She nodded. Then I looked over again. Her leg looked awfully smooth and shiny. "OH MY GOD! Blondie, did you shave your legs!?!?!?" She slunk down in her seat sheepishly, "My leg." She shaved one leg and she butchered herself so she didn't shave the other.

"Are you allowed to shave your legs?" She shook her head no. Lord in heaven. She protested, "It's not fair. Your daughter gets to shave her legs." That is true. Not because I am a negligent parent who thinks little children should shave their legs, but because my rule always was that she could shave once she needed to shave her underarms. I never in my wildest dreams thought it would be so early but that is the reality for us. She has her own razors and shaving cream. This child has better shaving equipment than I do.

"Tell me the story," I demanded. Blondie started, "Well, we were going to take showers and C went to get a towel and I saw her razors and I begged her to teach me how to shave my legs and she said okay. I was almost done and I cut myself real bad." My daughter piped in from the back seat, "Yeah, it started just shooting out blood and Blondie was shaking and she said 'I think I'm going to die'. I wanted to get you but she said 'No, your mom is going to kill me and we'll be in big trouble.' Then we got it to stop bleeding."

I was horrified.

Then, the icing on the cake was when my daughter finished with, "And then she made me shave her upper lip."
                 
Christ Almighty. "You are NEVER supposed to shave your face!" They seemed intrigued. "Why not? Boys do it." I sighed, "Because boys are hairy beasts, you are delicate flowers. There is a difference." Blondie said, "Well, what are you supposed to do with that hair on your upper lip?" I replied, "Wax, hair removal cream, or just leave it alone. I don't do anything to my upper lip. I'm proud of my woman-stache." I don't understand this obsession with body hair removal. I think body hair is there for a reason, I personally think shaving and waxing are annoying. I mean, I do it out of obligation but if I was single I would grow everything out and braid my arm pit hair and hang out with hordes of cats. It would be HAWT.

I shook my head, "You know your mom is never going to let you sleep over my house again. You came to me in one piece and now I'm taking you home half-hairless with a chunk of your leg missing." I thought I had some decent street cred going that I was a somewhat responsible parent but once word gets out about this, no one is going to let their kids sleep over my house. "Do you hear what goes on over there? I heard she lets her kids play with razors! RAZORS! For shame!"

Her mom was cool about it. I love her. I need to have her over for margaritas as a peace-offering. In the car on the way home I berated my daughter for the incident. "Never do that again. Just because you can do something doesn't mean your friend's can too. That was wrong of you. Do you understand?" She nodded and then you know what she said to me? "Okay, but mom, I need some more shaving cream. I'm all out." I was so annoyed, "AND stop wasting the fancy shaving cream!!!!"

The School Dance Chaperone

  

A few weeks ago, it was announced that there would be dance at the middle school. A Valentine's Dance. I asked my daughter how many gentleman callers asked her to the dance. "Only two, but one of the boys is my friend's ex boyfriend so I told him no." She knows about the girl code. By going to the dance together, it means that they are going to stand near each other and bob their heads and then sit next to each other and eat pizza. I'll call the boy she went to the dance with, Irish Jim.

I chaperoned the dance because I am a helicopter parent and want to make sure my daughter and he friends are appropriate. I will rat them out to their mamas. It's called good looking out. I stood at the door taking tickets and Irish Jim came up, took a wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out his ticket. So cute! What do these 10 year olds keep in their wallets? Maybe the itunes gift cards he got for Christmas, frequent Gander Mountain shopper card?

My daughter walked in with her little friends, they were chattering and excited and enjoying their youth. There was a sea of 10-13 year olds. It was like a tween convention.

My job was to stand by the door and make sure that no kids escaped and to monitor how many kids left to use the bathroom. I stood by the door and watched the kids do their middle school dancing. In the corner of my eye, I saw three kids ( 2 girls and a boy) trying to get up on the stage and I waved them down. They were 12. I knew one of the girls since she was a little girl. I remember her being a sweet little 6 year old, walking around with little black-rimmed glasses. She has turned into a beautiful young lady.

The kids stood in front of me. Sweet, preppy children in Holister jeans and Under Armor sweat shirts. Clean cut kids. "What are you guys doing? They don't let you on the stage." The girl pointed to the boy and said, "He wanted to request a song." I turned to him. "What song do you want to hear?" I know the DJ, he plays all the popular songs with the kids. I thought that surely it was a song he would play later on. The boy said nothing but the girl blurted out, "He wants him to play 'Grind on Me.'" They looked for my reaction.

I was speechless.
                                 
Then I was like:

         

"I am sorry y'all, but they are not going to play a song called 'Grind on Me.' That is unacceptable" The little boy protested. He seemed personally offended. "Well, they just played 'I'm in love with the Coco.'" I rolled my eyes at him, "That is a song that is obviously about a man who occasionally enjoys a cup of hot chocolate. Now, go dance and get your mind out of the gutter."

They gave up on the 'Grind on Me' song and left disappointed. I had never heard of this song but I was sure to file it away to look it up later. The rest of the dance went off with out a hitch. Towards the end, my daughter was asking me if a kid could come home with us and I had already promised to take home two others. I walked out with five kids following me. I felt like the pied piper.

We made our way home and I asked my daughter if she danced with Irish Jim. "A little. We got our picture taken together." "Just the two of you?" She laughed, "Yeah, mom." Uggh. Someone kill me.

By the time I battled the traffic and made it home, I was exhausted. My mother in law had cooked dinner for me, and I could have kissed her feet. I sat down to eat and then put on my pajamas. I opened my computer, pulled up Youtube and typed in Grind on Me Lyrics. I could not believe what I was hearing. Those poor kids. Any innocence they may have once contained was completely annihilated when they heard that song.

My heart sank. My daughter takes pictures with boys with wallets and goes to school with kids that listen to Grind on Me....it's surely all down hill from here. This morning I felt a lot better when she came downstairs with her friend to eat breakfast. They grabbed a doughnut and then she said, "Wanna go watch My Little Pony?" Yes! I hope she watches My Little Pony for the next five years instead of listening to raunchy music.

It's not likely, but a mom can dream...

Sick Kids - Kissing on the Mouth

                             
On Sunday morning my 8 year old woke up complaining of pain in her neck on one side. It hurt to turn to the side and was sore. I made the assumption that she slept wrong and kept an eye on her throughout the day. I made a rice sock to apply heat and gave her ibprofen. She was fine.

She woke up the next morning and complained of neck stiffness and a headache and that she didn't feel well in general. I went into high alert. My husband was hospitalized with meningitis eight years ago and I was told by doctors that if he did survive he would probably have significant brain damage because his encephalitis was so severe. By the grace of GOD, he recovered with no negative side effects but I definitely suffer from meningitis-related PTSD. Consequently, I have become an expert on all things meningitis.

Stiff necks and headaches together can throw me into a near panic. My daughter laid in bed and I took her temperature, which was normal. "Do your eyes hurt to look at the light?" "No." I had her curl her knees to her chest. "Does that hurt your back?" "No." I examined her body for a rash and there was none. Still, I wanted to have a doctor put his/her eyes on her.

I called and made an appointment for first thing that morning. I made her breakfast and got her to drink some fluid. She was acting lethargic and not herself. I loaded her into the car and off we went to the pediatrician's office.

I went to the front desk and checked her in and the lady at the front was being a huge bee-otch. "We JUST switched insurance carriers and I haven't received our new card yet." She looked at me like I had three heads, "Do you have a policy number?" "No." She was annoyed, "How do you expect us to see your daughter today?" I expected to punch her right in the face, but I didn't. "Surely, you guys take money. Cash, check, credit cards?" She huffed, "Well, it's going to be $60." I gave her the money and as soon as I did, she said, "Tests will be extra." She needed to get that extra jab in, I guess. I don't know what crawled up her butt. I do not have patience for rude people. It literally took everything I had in me not to throw my pen at her. I would be aiming for the eye region, in case you were wondering.

They called my daughter back and she sat down. All of a sudden she felt a lot better. At home she was like this:
                
As soon as we got into the doctors office:
                                        
You have got to be shitting me... I thought to myself. I just paid $60 and I am here to tell a PHYSICIAN that there is legitimately something wrong with you and suddenly you are laying belly down and turning circles on the spinning stool? I was highly irritated. "I'm taking you to school immediately follow this event." She smiled at me, "Okay."

The 20 year old doctor came in and looked her over and we decided that she was going to live and we were just going to watch her neck. As annoyed as I was with her, I was happy that she "magically" improved.

Otherwise, life has been uneventful. We watched the Superbowl on Sunday. It was a joy to watch the Patriots win the Super Bowl. Again.

                         
My husband has been talking about it endlessly, which is weird because he doesn't really like foot ball. Tonight we were sitting on the couch and he asked if I saw the picture of the Patriot's coach kissing his daughter. I hadn't but here it is:

                             
He was ranting and raving that it's weird to kiss family members on the lips. I sat there silently. "Oh my God! I kiss my family members on the lips." He looked at me weird. "Who?" I went through the list, "Definitely my grand mom AND my two sisters." I thought for a moment. "Do I kiss my mom and dad on the lips? I don't recall but it's a strong possibility. I might even kiss my brother on the lips." He gawked. "You do not do that. He would not find that acceptable." I thought back again for a minute. "It's definitely possible, now that I think about it...there may be some cousins that I kiss on the lips."

I do kiss family on my lips. I kissed my grandfather on the lips. I kiss the kids on the lips. It never occurred to me that it was weird at all. It is so second nature that I don't know who I kiss on the lips and who I don't. I told my husband that I was going to do a test. I am going to attempt to kiss all of my relatives on the lips, that is the only way that I'm going to get an accurate list of who I kiss and who I don't. He made a gagging sound, "That is disgusting, keep your lips away from me." My oldest daughter piped up, "Just don't get measles or cancer or anything gross like that." Cancer from kissing? Get this kid in biology class, STAT.