The Parole Officer

Last weekend my husband was supposed to go to the shooting range with some friends and he forgot about it apparently because I was at the computer reading the news and his phone was next to me charging and a text popped up that said, "Hey dude, are you coming?" I woke him up and he said, "Just tell him my parole officer said I couldn't go." When he says parole officer - he means me. He threw me under the bus. I don't know how I became known as the parole officer. I think one day he called to let me know he was doing something after work and I asked him to be home at a certain time and he said, "What are you my parole officer?" It just stuck after that. I know he uses me as an excuse to get out of things. I would do the same if I ever was invited to social events - which I am not because my entire life is consumed with work and the children and there is little room for anything else besides sleeping.

I will get back to the parole officer thing in a minute. This week my husband upgraded the software on my iphone and it was acting stupid ever since. It was slow, it was taking forever for my contacts to come up. I was irritated. It all came to a head Friday. I had to run to Fedex and I needed to send out an email but my stupid phone wasn't working right. I was sitting in my car in the Fedex parking lot trying to send out this email and it was kind of urgent but my efforts were fruitless. After 15 minutes, I finally snapped. I screamed at my phone. I held it up to my face and I screamed at it. Not words, just an angry yell. See below:

 

The other customers must have thought I lost my mind. I am so upset. So I had to drive all the way home to send this email out and on my way, I left my husband a distressing voicemail, "Honey, I hope you are having a good day but I need to tell you - I HATE MY *bleeping* PHONE. I WANT TO THROW IT OUT THE WINDOW. WHAT THE *bleep* DID YOU DO TO IT? AHHHHHHH. I love you! Call me back." That was at 10:30 in the morning. I went home, sent out my emails and busied myself with other things.

I got a call from my sister inviting us to dinner at her house. So I called my husband at noon to let him know. It went straight to voicemail. Another 2 hours went by and I still hadn't heard from him. I was starting to get kind of suspicious. 

I called an hour later, left another voicemail. Every voicemail is more and more desperate from the last. I picked up the kids at 4 and we made our way over to my sister's house. I called again and again it went to voicemail. Now I was panicked. It had been 6 hours and I hadn't heard from him. I was starting to get concerned. I always assume the worst. What if he drove off a bridge and his phone is under water with his car? What if he was mugged and they stole his phone and now he is naked and bleeding alone in the woods? Did he run away with a Cindy Crawford look alike to the midwest to start a new life? Should I look up fatal accidents on the news? Should I call the hospital? I was being completely irrational. I have a tendency to do that time to time.

I did what any crazy paranoid wife would do. I gave in and called his work. The secretary picked up. "He's at a client." "I know that, can I just speak to the dispatcher?" She put me through to his co-worker. I didn't want to speak to him because he probably already thinks I am a weirdo because my husband calls me the parole officer. I didn't make myself sound any less crazy when I said, "Hey, have you talked to my husband today? I haven't been able to get in touch with him all day. I know I sound like a stalker-wife but I am kind of concerned." He laughed, "I try to get through and will tell him to call you." "Thanks." He probably hung up the phone and told the office that his parole officer was checking in.

Another hour went by and I am at my sisters house on her couch just ringing my hands, completely freaked out. And then, my phone rang. It was him. "Sorry, my phone died and I forgot my charger." "Well, I was over here planning your funeral." He laughed, "I had to buy a charger, it was $20 bucks." My piece of mind is worth 20 bucks for sure. A little while later he walked through the front door and I jumped up to hug him. "I am so happy that you're alive." He said, "Now, you know how I feel when you don't answer your phone." I shrugged, "But it's like me not to answer my phone but it's out of character for you to not answer yours." He sat down to eat and all was right with the world. 

Fun.

                   
It's been a crazy week. We took the kids to their first concert this week. It was Fun. and Teagan and Sara. It was on a Tuesday night, a school night. Bad Mom Award. We purchased the tickets in February - the kids heard about it on the radio and begged, and begged and begged and we finally gave in. Not before I did some investigative work. I spent a whole night on Youtube listening to all of their music to make sure they didn't have songs about shooting up heroin, one night stands and to make sure they were clothed during their concert. They were very tame, except that one song had the F-word. It's not like they never heard that word out of my mouth. Yes, I've slipped -I'm not perfect.

I am not a big concert person. I don't really believe in paying money to see live music. If I want to see Fun play music, I'll just pull it up on Youtube. But, I thought it would be a fun family event so I agreed.We have waited for 6 months and the kids were so excited.


The concert was in Daniel Island. I love Daniel Island. Daniel Island is like an alternate universe where everything is new and shiny and everyone is beautiful.
               

We went to dinner as a family and then headed to the stadium. We had pretty decent seats.They weren't high up in the stands. We were in row H to the side a bit but had a pretty close view of everything - yet my 7 year old still complained that we didn't have front row tickets. Seriously. You are in one of the most beautiful places ever at a big concert and you are in second grade and you are mad that you aren't in the front row? Go complain to some starving kids in China.

She got over it pretty quick. Teagan and Sara came out and played and we were so excited. We have been Teagan and Sara for years and the kids know a lot of their music so they were happy and singing along.

After they played it took FOREVER to set up and stage and Fun. to come out. The kids were annoyed, but finally they came out and they were awesome. Much better than I expected, actually. The lead singer was very cute and energetic. The kids were standing up, clapping and dancing and singing their little hearts out. It may have been the cutest thing I had ever seen. It was such a nice time, I am really glad that we went.

We didn't get back to the car until 11:30 and the kids fell right asleep. Traffic was horrible and we didn't get home until after midnight. My husband and I carried the kids upstairs and into bed. The next morning was rough. I let the kids go to school in sweat pants pretty much. It was a half day thankfully so they only had to make it 3 hours. Sometimes you have to have a little fun (no pun intended).

In 10 Years

                  
The other day my 9 year old came up to me and said, "Mom, I have a pimple. Right here - see?" She pointed to the tiniest blemish on her cheek. "I have to do something about this." I told that this weekend we could get some special face wash and moisturizer to help reduce and prevent blemishes. I need some of that too. I had beautiful skin until I had kids and my hormones got all wonky. Now I break out all the time. Uggh. So we made it a date. On Sunday we were going to go out, just the 2 of us and get pimple cream and face wash and some loom bands.

This morning we got into the car and we were listening to the radio and they were playing a "flash back" song. Carson Daly said, "Ten years ago this weekend, Outcast released this song: Hey Ya." What? 10 years ago? I turned to my daughter who was making a bracelet in the back seat. "Hey, I was pregnant with you 10  years ago in October." That seems almost crazy to think about. That 10 years ago, she wasn't even an apple in my eye and now we are on our way to the store to buy her some pimple cream. How is that even possible? Time is passing so quickly. I feel like we are being catapulted into the future at a record fast speed. And so it goes.

In other news, my 7 year old is continuing her mean streak. My husband didn't want to play badminton with her her other day and she got upset. We were sitting at the table and she walked up to the table and handed him a piece of paper and stomped off. This is what it said:

 This is the translation:
Dear Dad,
You never want to play badmint. You're a jerk. I never want to play badmint. I wish mom never married you.
BUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!

Blue Lights

   
 I have been kind of unplugged for a week. It's been good. We took the kids to Great Wolf Lodge last weekend which was sooooo stinkin' fun. It should really be called Drain-your-bank-account-Lodge. haha. The kids really enjoyed it and it was nice to just get away.

This week has gone by slow. I picked the girls up early yesterday and took them with me to run errands and to get ice cream. We were driving home and all of a sudden I see blue lights behind me, pulling me over. I thought my light was out or something. So I pulled over and got all my crap out. The cop comes up to my window. "Do you know how fast you were going?" I looked at him like he had 2 heads. "Yeah, I was going 35." He said, "Well, the speed limit is 25." What the hell. "But the only speed limit sign I've seen in this area says 35." He said, "Well, residential areas are 25 mph in this county. The main road is 35 mph." The main road is also residential and is only one lane in either direction but whatever. I handed him my license and registration and as he is walking away from the car my 7 year old says - while my window is down, extremely loud - "You should have said, 'IN YOUR FACE', Officer." I turned around with quickly, "Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?" I'm sure he heard her and probably thinks I'm raising my children to be disrespectful to police officers. He wrote me a warning because I thought I was going to the speed limit. Whatever.

Fast forward to this morning, I got pulled over again. I shit you not. Different area, different county. On my way to take the kids to school. I was not in a good mood. The guys said I was going 32 in a 25. I lost it on this police officer. "Well officer, there are no speed limit signs in this entire area. Residential areas in city are 30 mph, is my understanding." He shrugged, "Well, in the older part of the city, that is the case. In this area it is 25 and in the newer neighborhoods, some of the areas are 15 mph and others are 20 mph." My God, 15 mph? My car idles at 15 mph. They might as well have a sign that says, "In this area, we're are going to need you to put your car in neutral, get out and push it the rest of the way." Good God. I looked at this police officer like he was speaking Chinese to me. "Well, if it's not clearly posted what am I supposed to do? Read minds? I have a little suggestion- maybe you could take all this money you are collecting from writing speeding tickets to people going 7 miles over the speed limit and invest in some clearly marked street signs." He was like, "I understand your frustration, but unfortunately that is the responsibility of the DOT." "Well, perhaps the city can send out notices to everyone with a map of the city that shows what the speed limit is where. This is absolutely RIDICULOUS, and now my children are late to school." Doesn't he have crack heads and thugs to worry about? Maybe some wife beaters and robbers to chase down? No, punishing a mostly nice, tax-paying mom for going 7 miles over the imaginary speed limit instead. He wrote me a warning. I was so irritated. Bunk-it. I am not leaving the house today. Is it too early for a Diet Coke?

In Case You Didn't Think I Was Trashy

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I really like my little house. I have filled it with things that I love. I've framed pictures of the kids drawings, I have the dining room table that belonged to my grand parents. The 1920's colonial revival dining chair I rescued from the trash and re-covered. Our hand-made kitchen table. Right now the house looks especially cute because we have our mantel covered with fall garland and candles and orange table clothes. My house is not flashy. It's not matchy-matchy. It's quaint and cute.

And then you walk upstairs and say, "Well, I didn't know you we're trashy." My bedroom is horrible. I hate it. The kids peeled the the paint off of my headboard and the nightstand. Not all of the paint - just some of it. Enough to make it look trashy. They like to peel things. They remind me of the crazy lady in that Yellow Wallpaper story. I wondered if there was something wrong with them. But no - they just like to destroy property when I'm not looking.

The worst part of our room is the mattress. It is horrible. We brought the mattress 6 years ago from an old Asian guy who had it advertised on Craigslist for $100. We sold EVERYTHING when we moved and so we were starting over from scratch. We had to buy plates, towels, furniture, ect and a new mattress was not in the budget. It looked clean. We joked that his wife probably died on the mattress so I sometimes call it the dead-lady mattress. Isn't that horrible.

Now before you think I'm gross - keep in mind that I sleep in hotels ALOT. There were hundreds of people sleeping on those beds doing God knows what. So one dead lady and her Asian husband don't bother me that much. It made sense anyway. Our kids were 1 and 3 at the time so we know we had a few more years of them crawling into our bed and peeing in it.

And they did. That was their favorite thing to do. There is nothing like waking up in the middle of the night in a warm puddle of urine. "Oh man, it must be hot in here - I'm really sweating. Oh no, it's just pee....again." This mattress has experienced a lot. It's been vomited on multiple times. My kids always think they will feel better if they are resting and consequently, vomiting in MY bed rather than their own. I'm sure someone has gotten boogers on it. I can say that no one has pooped in it. At least I think not - I can't be 100% sure. With kids, poop is always a possibility.

It gets worse. When we moved into the house we are currently living in, our bed frame broke. It broke during the MOVE - that was 2 and a half years ago. I was like, "Just put in on the floor and we'll get a new one this weekend." They are $50 bucks, not a lot of money. Would fit in the car. Well, here we are 2.5 years later and the mattress is STILL on the floor. It doesn't get trasher than that. It's just sad. Really, really sad.

But even then, it get's worse. The mattress over the past 4 months had started to fall apart. Like the seams are coming undone and I can lift the fabric and see the springs. It's so awful.

Last night, I came home and I walked into the bedroom and for the 1,000 time a wave of disappointment came over me and I snapped. I told my husband, "Tomorrow, I am going and buying a mattress and a new frame AND new sheets." Our sheets are pretty sad too - they are clean at least. Well, except for the corner where the nail polish is because my daughter decided to paint her nails in my bed. My husband looked at me and said, "What kind of mattress are you going to get?" I shrugged my shoulders, "I don't know." He looked at me suspect and do you know what he said? He said, "Well, just don't get a crappy one." Gee, I didn't know he had standards. I don't think he realizes that he has been sleeping on the dead-lady mattress on the floor for the past 2.5 years.

I followed through this time. I went to the mattress store and I laid on a bunch of mattresses and I purchased one. I was sooooo excited. I filled out the delivery paperwork and they said they would take my old mattress away. I panicked a little. That means someone is going to have to see my mattress. I am going to hang my head in shame and avoid making eye contact. My new bedroom is going to be awesome- plus my kids don't come in my bed and pee anymore. There is perks to having big kids.

We're Pretty Nerdy

                       
I don't think my family is that stereotypical nerdy family. We appear normal but really we're not. We are nerds to the core. This became very apparent to me when I picked my kids up from school yesterday.

The kids hopped into the car and they were like, "Mom! We figured out what we are going to be for Halloween." "Okay, what is it?" My oldest said, "I want to be the main character from Assassins Creed." My youngest jumped in, "I want to be Zelda." They asked to see my phone so they could show me these costumes. See below:


                                                                Assassins Creed
                    
                  Zelda - well, actually Link from the Legends of Zelda to be more accurate

It couldn't be just a regular Link costume. It has to be a BLUE, embellished Link costume. I sighed. "Guys - they don't make costumes like this for kids." They both looked at me with big eyes - "Mom, you are going to make them." Not, will you make them? - you are GOING to make them." They already had thought out their case because my 9 year old said, "Besides, we can wear them for Halloween AND the Renaissance Festival and that will save you money."

I am known to make costumes throughout the years. I made these awesome mermaid costumes one year with lace up backs and real shells on the bodice, I made an indian poncho with real feathers and ribbon that looked like beading, I've made a Hello Kitty costume and cowgirl outfits.... And now I will make Zelda and Assasains creed costumes. I really don't want to. I wanted to ask them why they can't just be normal kids and be a rockstar and princess for Halloween but they have their hearts set. And yes, we will go to the Renaissance Festival and I will dress up too.

We are nerds. It's all my husband's fault. He likes fantasy books and video games and movies. We both like Celtic music. The costumes that the kids want are inspired by Lindsay Sterling, who is a violinist. My 7 year old will say things like, "Put on Lindsay Sterling - she is the dopest violin player." Dopest - haha. So we have brainwashed the kids to be nerds too. Don't tell anyone - it's our dirty little secret.

Well, I am off to clean and then to buy fabric to start on these impossible costumes that need to be completed by October 31st. I do NOT win the Bad Mom Award today.

The Future is Frightening

                              
This weekend was like any other weekend. I went grocery shopping, attempted to do laundry, ignored my children..... On Sunday afternoon, the kids were outside playing and we were listening to vevo while I was cleaning up. I decided to take a break and I plopped down onto the couch with a cup of coffee and told my husband to put on something from the 90's. Yes - I was drinking coffee in the middle of the afternoon while watching 18 year old music videos - I'm a loser, don't judge me.

So he put on this Days of the New song. I am watching the video and I said, "Honey, the lead singer of this band is only 16." "NO WAY - he is definitely like 23." I corrected him, "Well, I saw him on an episode of Intervention and he said he was 16 when this song came out." My husband disagreed. So I decided to check with the omnipotent Google who confirmed that we were both wrong. He was 17.
                        
                                         The shirtless dude - he's 17. WTF?

So I continue to watch and I had this revelation and I turned to him and said, "OH MY GOD! In 7 years, we will have a 16 year old daughter. So hypothetically, a 17 year old boy that looks like this dude might show up at our house to take C on a date."  He looked at me with a very disturbed look on his face."We are DOOMED," I said.

I can't say for certain but I'm pretty sure in 7 years we will be in hell. I will weep a lot. I will probably keep STD pamphlets on my coffee table and make my daughters wear turtle necks and be a crazy person. I will be totally lame. These future boys better mind their manners because I already don't like them or trust them.

Crime and Punishment

                    
My kids have it easy. They really do. They don't realize how easy they have it and I realized that last night. We had a great day together. We got up early, watched a movie, I took them out to lunch, we went to get new fall decorations (because they old ones were destroyed by mold a month ago), then they played outside with their friends all afternoon until it was time to go to dinner at my father's house.

My 7 year old was having a bit of an attitude in the evening and I gave her multiple warnings. Finally, after she hit an open bottle of water out of my hand - I had enough. It was time to go. So when we get home, I told her she had to take a shower and put on pajamas and take a 15 minute time out. A very mild punishment, in my opinion. I am not about the long term punishment thing. We don't do week long groundings. Maybe if they did something serious like tried to light the house on fire or steal the car, then maybe. I generally am an address-at-the-moment-and-let-it-be-over kind of mom. My daughter screamed at me but got in the shower and put on her pajamas and laid down. I had a long talk with her about appropriate behavior and how MOM AND DAD are in charge and not her and I told her she had to lay silently for 15 minutes. At 13 minutes she started talking. I asked her to shut her mouth or I would add another minute. She kept running her mouth so I added another minute. She got out of bed and started hitting her head against the wall - not hard, just enough to be annoying - so I added another minute. Then she laid in bed and started kicking her legs and so I added another minute. Finally she decided that resistance was futile. She folded her arms across her chest and pouted and was silent the rest of the time. Afterwards she told me that the punishment was not fair and that 18 minutes is too long and that I was mean. Whatever.

So we put on a family movie and my 9 year old asked if one of us would lay next to her for the movie. I volunteered. I laid down next to her and as soon as I did she said, "I want dad." "Well, you don't get dad, you get me." She she cried. Like a baby. So I told her she could lay alone. She screamed, because if she wasn't getting what she wants then she wanted to ruin everyone else's movie time. My 7 year old turned to me and said, "She's ruining the movie." I sighed, "She's acting how you usually act." She shrugged and said, "I do have a lot of issues, but you always help me work through them, mom." Hahaha. She's pretty self aware for a second grader. Then she starting scratching her bug bites and calling out, "Curse my sweet blood!" while the 9 year old continued to scream. It was almost comical at this point.

Finally my husband got fed up and screamed at her that she was acting ridiculous and that she can't just scream and cry to get her way. He really yelled, the house boomed. My 9 year old was quiet but then in a weepy voice said, "You guys always torture us, because when you yell, it scares me - and when you scare kids it is torturing them." Ok, little miss melodrama. First of all, I don't yell all that often. Second of all, when I do yell - it's because I have already asked you 10,000 times to stop the behavior and you failed to listen to me. She finally shut her mouth and got over herself. Thank the Lord.

These kids act like I made them sit in the chokey, or made them kneel on rice, or beat them with a belt. No - we yelled and made them sit silently for 15 minutes. We are torturers, horrible people, terrible parents. Our kids will require therapy one day because our punishments are so unusually cruel. It's hard work work being an evil mom. Exhausting.