"Are you doubting yourself again?"
This is what my boss said to me yesterday as I pow-wowed with my favorite co-worker of all time. I was working on a project. A large, complex and highly obnoxious project. Now, remember, I love my job. I do! I love waking up every morning because I get to work/play with people that I admire, respect and best of, like. My work family, they're the best.
But, "Are you doubting yourself again?"
It really got me thinking. At that moment, I wasn't doubting myself, I was just working through some details. So, yay me! But he was right, I doubt myself.
I doubt myself.
And inevitably, that doubt grows teeth and claws and morphs into a ravaging beast. Or, as it's better known, worry.
I worry that I'm a bad wife. I worry that I am too critical of my husband. Or that I'm not affectionate enough. Or that I exclude him or ignore him. I worry that I'm selfish and petty. I worry that I'm not beautiful enough.
I worry that I'm an awful friend. I'm pretty sure that I have a tendency to be a hermit. I worry that I don't contribute to my friendships. I worry that I'm a one-way street. I worry that I either say too much or too little. I worry that I don't reach out or that I don't see others reaching out to me.
I worry about being a lame-ass employee. I worry that I'm too sarcastic and mouthy. I worry that I don't do enough. Or that I do too much. I worry that I have a tendency to react, not act.
But most of all, I worry that I'm a terrible mom. Am I too strict or not strict enough? I worry that I'm mean-spirited and am teaching my girls to be mean-spirited. I worry that I'm completely inappropriate and rude. I worry that I put too much pressure on them or expect too much. I worry that my standards are too high. I worry that I model a horrible human being and am influencing them to be the same. I worry that I say too much or not enough. I'm sure I yell too much. I worry that I can't find the balance between smothering them and giving them their space.I think I need them too much and that I don't want them to have their secrets. I worry that I'm too nosy. I worry that I just suck.
I think, as women, we are naturally inclined to worry. We worry and we "mother" and we tend to those around us. Even if they don't want us to. Even if we aren't good at it. Is it because we are biologically and chemically wired to do so? Is it because that's the role that society tells us we have to play? Is it because our brains never shut up? NEVER. SHUT. UP. In trying to shut our brains up, do we fill our lives completely and stay busy, busy, busy?
I swore I would never be my mother. She's a great woman, don't get me wrong. But she is non-confrontational and I think that leads her to be taken advantage of. Before you get a mental picture, let me set the stage. My mom taught Kindergarten for 25 years. She was an amazing teacher. People placed their kids on lists to get into her class. Her students loved her and she loved her students. By the time she retired, she was teaching second and third generations of some of her original students. She is well known and well-loved by her peers, her students and her community. If I knew what was good for me, I would aspire to be like her. But I don't and I'll tell you why. She's under appreciated by the man who should cherish her as the most precious thing he could possibly get his hands on. But most horribly, she was under appreciated and not respected by someone who should have known better. Me. It's true, I didn't respect her. I thought she was ignorant and oblivious. I didn't ask for or graciously receive advice or direction from her. I separated myself from my family and shut them out of my life. I was a bitch. A rotten, selfish, nasty bitch.
So, I decided that wouldn't happen in my house. I was involved early on with the girls. I knew their friends. I spent time with them. A lot of time. As much as I could. I still do! I asked tough questions. Seriously, it isn't unheard of for me to ask things like, "So, are you having sex?" "Are you you doing drugs?" "Have you tried alcohol". Out of the blue and totally unexpected. I'm not afraid to ask the questions and have uncomfortable conversations. It's far more likely for the girls to be embarrassed by hard questions than me.
But in the midst of these teen years, I find myself constantly second guessing decisions and things I say. I worry that I'm saying too much of the wrong thing and not enough of the right thing.
I doubt myself.
What's the solution? Is there one? Am I alone? How do I be a better wife, mom, friend? A better person?
Anyone?
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Yooh miGht nt fel gud afTer u red ths
Gud mrNing frnds! How R u? AlL gud hear, jst blogin sum sTuff!
Now that I've caused my spell check to have a seizure, can you read that? Does it make you want to scratch your eyeballs right out of your head? I typed it out and I still can't believe it. This, my friends, is how a lot of peoplecommunicate write type pound random letters on the keyboard and hope it comes out looking like a word. Now, don't get me wrong...I can use "text speech" as well as the next idiot person... gtfo lol whatev. See? But really, I only do it in my mind or when I'm typing really, really fast in an online gaming environment. It's just another form of shorthand. But when I'm actually trying to interact with people, I spell correctly, use proper grammar and never hesitate to liberally sprinkle my writing with commas and periods. And by interact, I mean trying to present myself as an Educated Fuck, as compared to an Uneducated Fuck.
I just feel that if you look or "sound" stupid when you engage in online conversations, people are going to assume that you are, in fact, stupid. Maybe I'm just crazy.
May I present, the best inadvertent ad for education I've ever seen.
Disclaimer: No Facebook friends were harmed in the making of this post. But The Blogger was. Seriously, after reading this, The Blogger felt ill.
Now that I've caused my spell check to have a seizure, can you read that? Does it make you want to scratch your eyeballs right out of your head? I typed it out and I still can't believe it. This, my friends, is how a lot of people
I just feel that if you look or "sound" stupid when you engage in online conversations, people are going to assume that you are, in fact, stupid. Maybe I'm just crazy.
May I present, the best inadvertent ad for education I've ever seen.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
On being the change
A word to the wise. And by wise, I mean my children...so when I say "wise", I'm using it in the broadest sense possible.
If I see the need to go to bat for you or otherwise address a screaming issue on your behalf, just let me.
Really...just let me.
I've never been one to ignore shit that's wrong or let anyone or anything roll over me, so logic will tell you that if someone or something needs some mom attention, I'm your girl.
Being a sheep or ignoring wrong because you don't want to "cause trouble" or because it doesn't directly affect you has never worked out well. Just check your history books.
Change doesn't come on its own my young Padawans, it needs voices and if we can't be those voices, who will?
If I see the need to go to bat for you or otherwise address a screaming issue on your behalf, just let me.
Really...just let me.
I've never been one to ignore shit that's wrong or let anyone or anything roll over me, so logic will tell you that if someone or something needs some mom attention, I'm your girl.
Being a sheep or ignoring wrong because you don't want to "cause trouble" or because it doesn't directly affect you has never worked out well. Just check your history books.
Change doesn't come on its own my young Padawans, it needs voices and if we can't be those voices, who will?
Monday, January 6, 2014
The future looms
Today, a rare and wonderful thing has happened. I am at home. Alone. Ahhh, bliss. The minions went back to school this morning, and I don't mind telling you that 6:00 am came horrifically early. I, however, don't have to return to work until Wednesday. Wednesday! As of this minute, I have had my coffee, taken a nap, showered and folded some laundry. I have a list a mile long of things I need to do, but fully intend to do as little as possible for the remainder of the day.
My day of luxury did get me thinking...what in the world am I going to do with myself when my girls are gone? I do work and I have a small circle of friends, but will that really fill my time? I highly doubt it. The Mr. works all the time and my family doesn't live close by, so who am I going to play with?
Apparently, I need some more hobbies...
I'll start a list:
Things I like to do that may possibly fill my hours when I become alone and crotchety
I like to read. However, this is a solitary endeavor.
Blogging. Again, best done alone.
I am a gamer. Did you know? Don't worry, the girls didn't suspect it either. Sadly, this is another activity that doesn't require company.
I love Disneyland. Maybe, I could move there and play with the guests every day.
Traveling makes me happy. I better start saving my money, yeah?
I am a fan of volunteering, but one can't volunteer every spare hour...right?
I like taking pictures. Maybe, I'll take some photography classes.
I also want to finish a book (at some point). Maybe I'll take some creative writing/publishing classes.
That's really all I've got... Not very encouraging, is it?
*sigh*
My day of luxury did get me thinking...what in the world am I going to do with myself when my girls are gone? I do work and I have a small circle of friends, but will that really fill my time? I highly doubt it. The Mr. works all the time and my family doesn't live close by, so who am I going to play with?
Apparently, I need some more hobbies...
I'll start a list:
Things I like to do that may possibly fill my hours when I become alone and crotchety
I like to read. However, this is a solitary endeavor.
Blogging. Again, best done alone.
I am a gamer. Did you know? Don't worry, the girls didn't suspect it either. Sadly, this is another activity that doesn't require company.
I love Disneyland. Maybe, I could move there and play with the guests every day.
Traveling makes me happy. I better start saving my money, yeah?
I am a fan of volunteering, but one can't volunteer every spare hour...right?
I like taking pictures. Maybe, I'll take some photography classes.
I also want to finish a book (at some point). Maybe I'll take some creative writing/publishing classes.
That's really all I've got... Not very encouraging, is it?
*sigh*
Sunday, January 5, 2014
An open letter to bullies and jackasses
There seems to be a new behavior in the online world. Well, okay, it's not new. Maybe social media is just taking it to a new level. People have a constant and driving need to educate other people. Specifically, those who have different ideas or beliefs. Have you noticed? It's everyfuckingwhere.
Let's say, I post something like... Coffee is best served hot.
Then, I wax prolific about how the steam is best inhaled at a 45 degree angle through the right nostril. And how one should hold the mug with the left hand over the right. Then, perhaps, I might post a picture of a coffee cup with steam rising out of it (because, let's face it, a coffee mug is really hard to picture in your mind's eye).
The next thing I know, 25 people have agreed and shared stories of their own coffee drinking adventures. 17 people have like my photo and said, "Lol". And then the educators arrive.
Clearly, I don't know which coffee is best. I haven't added the right amount of creamer. The coffee should always be made with a press and for God's sake, don't defile that shit with sugar.
Well, it's a damn good thing they were there to educate me. Where have they been my entire life while I was drinking coffee incorrectly? And who the fuck do I think I am claiming to know anything about coffee?
Now, I'm hoping you have seen through my clever little example to realize that I'm not talking about drinking a fucking cup of coffee. I'm talking about real ideas. Real beliefs. Things like faith and politics and lifestyle choices. Things like immunizations and raising your children.
If I think or believe differently that you do, that's not an invitation for you to "educate" me. Seriously. Now, don't get be wrong, I really enjoy hearing different points of views and experiences. That's how we learn and grow as a society. Listening with respect and appreciating another view or experience. But, you're not welcome to try and show me the error of my ways and set me on the "right" path. You are also not welcome to make rude or condescending remarks about ignorance and stupidity in people that don't happen to agree with you.
If you think I'm stupid, you are free to do so. In the quiet of your own mind and the confines of your own home. You can think it. You can think it whilst talking to me. You can imagine all the ways I'm wrong and roll your eyes (to yourself). But the moment a condescending remark passes your lips or streams through your fingertips, you have transformed from a regular person to a douche bag. And no one appreciates a douche bag. I can't count how many times I've seen or heard people like this whine about how hard it is to talk to "ignorant" people. Define ignorance. Maybe stop a moment and think that perhaps you're the "ignorant" one and that it's nearly impossible to talk to you.
So, for those of you that are hell bent on straightening everyone else out (you know who you are), I say this, the fastest way to alienate people is to treat them like they're stupid or ignorant. How about this, be willing to engage in an intelligent conversation and don't judge. Be open to new ideas or thoughts. And lest you become frightened at the thought of new ideas, remember that just because you gain knowledge or another faith or political standpoint, it doesn't automatically "convert" you to that "side". And if that is just too much for you to handle, stay on your side of the fence, I have no interest in cluttering up my life with bullies and naysayers.
Let's say, I post something like... Coffee is best served hot.
Then, I wax prolific about how the steam is best inhaled at a 45 degree angle through the right nostril. And how one should hold the mug with the left hand over the right. Then, perhaps, I might post a picture of a coffee cup with steam rising out of it (because, let's face it, a coffee mug is really hard to picture in your mind's eye).
The next thing I know, 25 people have agreed and shared stories of their own coffee drinking adventures. 17 people have like my photo and said, "Lol". And then the educators arrive.
Clearly, I don't know which coffee is best. I haven't added the right amount of creamer. The coffee should always be made with a press and for God's sake, don't defile that shit with sugar.
Well, it's a damn good thing they were there to educate me. Where have they been my entire life while I was drinking coffee incorrectly? And who the fuck do I think I am claiming to know anything about coffee?
Now, I'm hoping you have seen through my clever little example to realize that I'm not talking about drinking a fucking cup of coffee. I'm talking about real ideas. Real beliefs. Things like faith and politics and lifestyle choices. Things like immunizations and raising your children.
If I think or believe differently that you do, that's not an invitation for you to "educate" me. Seriously. Now, don't get be wrong, I really enjoy hearing different points of views and experiences. That's how we learn and grow as a society. Listening with respect and appreciating another view or experience. But, you're not welcome to try and show me the error of my ways and set me on the "right" path. You are also not welcome to make rude or condescending remarks about ignorance and stupidity in people that don't happen to agree with you.
If you think I'm stupid, you are free to do so. In the quiet of your own mind and the confines of your own home. You can think it. You can think it whilst talking to me. You can imagine all the ways I'm wrong and roll your eyes (to yourself). But the moment a condescending remark passes your lips or streams through your fingertips, you have transformed from a regular person to a douche bag. And no one appreciates a douche bag. I can't count how many times I've seen or heard people like this whine about how hard it is to talk to "ignorant" people. Define ignorance. Maybe stop a moment and think that perhaps you're the "ignorant" one and that it's nearly impossible to talk to you.
So, for those of you that are hell bent on straightening everyone else out (you know who you are), I say this, the fastest way to alienate people is to treat them like they're stupid or ignorant. How about this, be willing to engage in an intelligent conversation and don't judge. Be open to new ideas or thoughts. And lest you become frightened at the thought of new ideas, remember that just because you gain knowledge or another faith or political standpoint, it doesn't automatically "convert" you to that "side". And if that is just too much for you to handle, stay on your side of the fence, I have no interest in cluttering up my life with bullies and naysayers.
Monday, August 5, 2013
Friday, March 29, 2013
Seeing is believing
Just when you think you've seen it all, you encounter the following:
See? This is not good. This is bad...very bad.
Good stuff, folks. Good stuff.
- A roving pack of cops on bikes. Seriously, there was a pack of them and they were roving the streets.
- A chick with a tattoo of the name "Chucky" on the side of her neck. Now, don't get me wrong, I have 3 tattoos and am fully planning on getting more but can you see all the wrong going on here? First of all, neck tattoos smack of ghetto to me. Maybe that's me just being a judgemental bitch but come on. Secondly, I can only assume that this woman got the tattoo to honor her kid but really, who in their right mind names their kid "Chucky"? I don't care how cute your kid might be, when I see/hear the name Chucky, all I can think of is this...
- And the last little jewel I have for you is witnessing a forklift being driving down a main road. With a dog inside. Backward.
Good stuff, folks. Good stuff.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
A letter to my daughters
Things I want my daughters to know:
Plan for the future but enjoy each day and live it for all its worth.
High school is nothing like the real world. Sure, there are always going to be "popular" people, but in reality, you all get thrown to the sharks. The trick is not to know how to BE a shark or to avoid being eaten by a shark but to know how to swim with them
Be yourself. Who cares about what everyone else is doing. Be who makes you happy.
Take your education seriously. I don't mean for you not to have any fun, but how you do in high school counts. If you intend to go on to higher education, be prepared. Make them WANT you.
Don't let the boys get you down. If a boy can't appreciate who you are and value you as a human being, show him the door.
Stand tall and proud. Look people in the eye. Make them remember you.
Explore everything. Try acting and dancing and sports and school clubs. Listen to opera and swing music. Read biographies and historical fiction and classics. This is how you find your niche.
Keep a journal. You don't ever have to read it but it's therapeutic to write stuff down. Your hopes and dreams and fears and frustrations. Write it down and walk away. It's the journal's problem now.
Keep your friends close. While it's important to have a wide circle of people you are friendly with, it's even more important to have a tiny circle of people you are friends with. These are your "people". Keep them close.
If you don't know "who you are", don't worry. Your purpose will reveal itself with time. And when it does, you are going to change the world.
Don't be afraid to look foolish or to make mistakes...this is how we learn.
Drama bullshit is just that. Bullshit. That's all I have to say about that.
Rock your own style. Set your own trends. You are not a sheep.
Put your family first. Your family will be the ones cheering you on, wiping your tears, tending your wounds. Your family is in your corner, watching your back. We can't fight your battles for you, but you can be damn sure we can be your war council.
Smile. Smile often and without abandon. Not only is it good for you, it makes people wonder what you're up to.
Learn how to say no. Being the "Go To Girl" isn't a bad thing but people can and will suck you dry. Learn your limits and stick to them.
Look for the beauty in people, chances are you'll find it. If you can't find beauty, walk away. Don't let someone else's ugliness drag you down.
Be self reliant. Know how to take care of your car and use power tools. Be financially savvy and business smart.
Be responsible for your actions. Don't pass the buck.
Make people want to model your work ethic. Work quickly, efficiently and with the highest quality possible.
Respect yourself and others.
Never, ever give up.
And most important...Always remember that you are loved.
Plan for the future but enjoy each day and live it for all its worth.
High school is nothing like the real world. Sure, there are always going to be "popular" people, but in reality, you all get thrown to the sharks. The trick is not to know how to BE a shark or to avoid being eaten by a shark but to know how to swim with them
Be yourself. Who cares about what everyone else is doing. Be who makes you happy.
Take your education seriously. I don't mean for you not to have any fun, but how you do in high school counts. If you intend to go on to higher education, be prepared. Make them WANT you.
Don't let the boys get you down. If a boy can't appreciate who you are and value you as a human being, show him the door.
Stand tall and proud. Look people in the eye. Make them remember you.
Explore everything. Try acting and dancing and sports and school clubs. Listen to opera and swing music. Read biographies and historical fiction and classics. This is how you find your niche.
Keep a journal. You don't ever have to read it but it's therapeutic to write stuff down. Your hopes and dreams and fears and frustrations. Write it down and walk away. It's the journal's problem now.
Keep your friends close. While it's important to have a wide circle of people you are friendly with, it's even more important to have a tiny circle of people you are friends with. These are your "people". Keep them close.
If you don't know "who you are", don't worry. Your purpose will reveal itself with time. And when it does, you are going to change the world.
Don't be afraid to look foolish or to make mistakes...this is how we learn.
Drama bullshit is just that. Bullshit. That's all I have to say about that.
Rock your own style. Set your own trends. You are not a sheep.
Put your family first. Your family will be the ones cheering you on, wiping your tears, tending your wounds. Your family is in your corner, watching your back. We can't fight your battles for you, but you can be damn sure we can be your war council.
Smile. Smile often and without abandon. Not only is it good for you, it makes people wonder what you're up to.
Learn how to say no. Being the "Go To Girl" isn't a bad thing but people can and will suck you dry. Learn your limits and stick to them.
Look for the beauty in people, chances are you'll find it. If you can't find beauty, walk away. Don't let someone else's ugliness drag you down.
Be self reliant. Know how to take care of your car and use power tools. Be financially savvy and business smart.
Be responsible for your actions. Don't pass the buck.
Make people want to model your work ethic. Work quickly, efficiently and with the highest quality possible.
Respect yourself and others.
Never, ever give up.
And most important...Always remember that you are loved.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Pick a winner!
So, I was driving into town the other day and while at a stop light, I happened to glance in my rear view mirror. Behind me were two men in a fairly nice car. Both were big guys, tattooed, shaved heads. I guess some would call them a little intimidating. As I was sitting there, waiting for the light to change, I glanced back again.
I wish I hadn't. Seriously. There are some things in life I wish I could unsee. Things like the pink, flabby wiener of the old, fat guy that exposed himself to me when I was young. Not because I was traumatized, but because he was infinitely unattractive and his weenie was a hot mess. I would also like to unsee my backfat, raunchy beer bellies and hairy, overgrown toes. Oh, and Justin Beiber. But sadly, I don't think any of those things can or will be erased from my psyche, so I guess I will just have to carry on.
So, back to the baldies behind me.
The passenger, who happened to be the biggest and most tattooed...your stereotypical tough guy, was picking his nose. Not just a quick, "My nose is itchy, maybe this will help", but a committed up to your elbow, digging for gold pick.
I almost wished I was a kid again, trying to figure out what was wrong with the saggy, pink wienie.
On second thought, I'll take the nose picker.
Now, I was equally grossed out and in awe of this man. We have all picked our nose (You're lying if you say you haven't and lying is bad. Shame on you!). But I would venture to say that for most of us, our picks are of a utilitarian nature. Dust gets in there. Suicidal bugs get in there. Nose hairs tickle. Sometimes, you just have to excavate. However, as much as this is a necessary evil, I would also venture to say that most of us try to practice discretion. Right?
Not so for Baldy. He boldly sent his finger where no finger had gone before. He was a Pioneer!Huzzah! This is were my awe comes in. I thought about it later and decided that he must fall into one of two camps. He is either thee most confident man on earth who couldnt' care less about what people think of him. Or, he has zero social skills and couldn't care less about what people think of him. But, it gave me hope for pickers everywhere, whether recreational or utilitarian. Pickers need not be ashamed!
So, go ahead Pickers, tunnel right on in there!
I even have a motto for you, "We Pick but Don't Lick!".
Or maybe, "It's Not Sick To Pick!"
Either way, carry on Pickers. The world just might be ready for you.
I wish I hadn't. Seriously. There are some things in life I wish I could unsee. Things like the pink, flabby wiener of the old, fat guy that exposed himself to me when I was young. Not because I was traumatized, but because he was infinitely unattractive and his weenie was a hot mess. I would also like to unsee my backfat, raunchy beer bellies and hairy, overgrown toes. Oh, and Justin Beiber. But sadly, I don't think any of those things can or will be erased from my psyche, so I guess I will just have to carry on.
So, back to the baldies behind me.
The passenger, who happened to be the biggest and most tattooed...your stereotypical tough guy, was picking his nose. Not just a quick, "My nose is itchy, maybe this will help", but a committed up to your elbow, digging for gold pick.
I almost wished I was a kid again, trying to figure out what was wrong with the saggy, pink wienie.
On second thought, I'll take the nose picker.
Now, I was equally grossed out and in awe of this man. We have all picked our nose (You're lying if you say you haven't and lying is bad. Shame on you!). But I would venture to say that for most of us, our picks are of a utilitarian nature. Dust gets in there. Suicidal bugs get in there. Nose hairs tickle. Sometimes, you just have to excavate. However, as much as this is a necessary evil, I would also venture to say that most of us try to practice discretion. Right?
Not so for Baldy. He boldly sent his finger where no finger had gone before. He was a Pioneer!Huzzah! This is were my awe comes in. I thought about it later and decided that he must fall into one of two camps. He is either thee most confident man on earth who couldnt' care less about what people think of him. Or, he has zero social skills and couldn't care less about what people think of him. But, it gave me hope for pickers everywhere, whether recreational or utilitarian. Pickers need not be ashamed!
So, go ahead Pickers, tunnel right on in there!
I even have a motto for you, "We Pick but Don't Lick!".
Or maybe, "It's Not Sick To Pick!"
Either way, carry on Pickers. The world just might be ready for you.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Do these x-rays make me look fat?
I was at my chiropractor's office last week and he took some spinal x-rays. At the time, I thought...cool! I get to see my bones and my skull and my teeth. I could then bring an image into my mind of using those teeth to snarl and gnash things (like math books and stupid people) and could picture myself doing a skeleton lurch around town scaring the hell out of people.
Yes, I have an active imagination.
Anyway, I went back to his office this week to discuss the x-rays and, if needed, form a plan of action for treatment. So, I sit down in front of his HUGE light box with Little Bit right beside me and my mom behind me. Weird? Yes, but Little Bit loves science-y things and my mom was...just curious. So, I'm sitting there, overflowing with excitement! My skeleton! My badass bones, out there, showing off their mad clacky skills! He dims the lights, he flips the switch on the lightbox.
And there is my body. In all its naked glory.
Yes, you read that right. It wasn't just my super awesome skeleton. It was my skeleton plus some bumps and rolls and bulges. As in, my belly flab and fatback. There was even the faint outline of my silhouette. Lumps and all.
Really?
All I wanted were my clacky bones and what I got was my tubby skeleton. Who even knew skeletons could BE fat? Not me. Every skeleton I've ever seen was stick thin. A walking skeleton, if you will.
Did you see what I did there? A "walking skeleton"? No? Never mind.
So, I'm sitting there trying to listen to my chiropractor explain what he found but in reality, all I can think about is this...My skeleton has a belly roll. Then I started thinking about the airport. People at the airport are fully aware that my skeleton has a belly roll. AND, have seen the outline of "The Girls". Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that why clothes were invented? So our naughty bits wouldn't be on display for all the world to see? But oh no, airline security can see everything. Belly rolls, fatback, boobies.
Awesome.
Then, to cap it all off, Little Bit wants to know, "Mom, can we take some pictures of your x-rays?"
Why, you ask? She wants to bring them to school to show her class.
Uh, no. No, you can't.
Good times.
Yes, I have an active imagination.
Anyway, I went back to his office this week to discuss the x-rays and, if needed, form a plan of action for treatment. So, I sit down in front of his HUGE light box with Little Bit right beside me and my mom behind me. Weird? Yes, but Little Bit loves science-y things and my mom was...just curious. So, I'm sitting there, overflowing with excitement! My skeleton! My badass bones, out there, showing off their mad clacky skills! He dims the lights, he flips the switch on the lightbox.
And there is my body. In all its naked glory.
Yes, you read that right. It wasn't just my super awesome skeleton. It was my skeleton plus some bumps and rolls and bulges. As in, my belly flab and fatback. There was even the faint outline of my silhouette. Lumps and all.
Really?
All I wanted were my clacky bones and what I got was my tubby skeleton. Who even knew skeletons could BE fat? Not me. Every skeleton I've ever seen was stick thin. A walking skeleton, if you will.
Did you see what I did there? A "walking skeleton"? No? Never mind.
So, I'm sitting there trying to listen to my chiropractor explain what he found but in reality, all I can think about is this...My skeleton has a belly roll. Then I started thinking about the airport. People at the airport are fully aware that my skeleton has a belly roll. AND, have seen the outline of "The Girls". Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that why clothes were invented? So our naughty bits wouldn't be on display for all the world to see? But oh no, airline security can see everything. Belly rolls, fatback, boobies.
Awesome.
Then, to cap it all off, Little Bit wants to know, "Mom, can we take some pictures of your x-rays?"
Why, you ask? She wants to bring them to school to show her class.
Uh, no. No, you can't.
Good times.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
I bend, but I don't break
Do you remember the part in "The Matrix", where Neo fights Mr. Smith for the first time? Mr. Smith is beating the living hell out of him and Neo gets smacked around and knocked down over and over. Then, the turning point...Neo gets up, shakes the dust off and motions for Mr. Smith to bring it on. Because I like you, I have provided the video. Feel free to forward it to about 1:50 and watch the part I mentioned. I'll wait.
Super terrific, right? Well, that's me. Neo's me. Life has beaten the hell out of me lately and for awhile I just let it. But then, I remembered that not only am I not the type of person that is easily beaten down, I'm not the type of person that stays down after a beating. I always get up. Always.
So, I got up. I shook off the dust and said, "Bring it the fuck on."
I did, however make some changes. It's funny how a beating makes you reevaluate your life and remember what's important and what's just junk. Technically, I'm back on Facebook but I have zero interest in it. Perhaps that will change with time, perhaps not. So, if I don't respond to a comment, it's not because I'm being bitchy, I probably didn't see it.
Also, I made the decision to be done with school. I applied for graduation and will be taking part in commencement ceremonies in May. I took a long, hard look at what I was doing and realized that I was trying to be something I'm not and have no desire to be. I thought I was supposed to "be someone". Nearly everyone I know is "something"...a teacher, a nurse, an administrator, an attorney. I thought I was supposed to do that too. I was supposed to finish school so I could be "something". It took a 2x4 to the face for me to realize that I already am the thing I want most in the world to be.
I'm a mom.
I'm a Full-Time Mom and I am not ashamed of that. I'm a mom who is privileged to be home when the kids are home. To volunteer in their classrooms or go on field trips. I know their friends because I'm either at their school every day or their friends are at my house. I'm a mom who doubles as a taxi service for the two of them and however many additional kids I can fit in the car. And you know what? I like it. I like that their friends call me Mom and talk to me about stuff. So, instead of torturing myself through 2 more math classes and then transferring to a UC to complete my Bachelor's, I'm going to finish earning my AA and then I'm going to be completely satisfied with it.
I'm going to continue being a mom and enjoy it without the pressure of being in school all the fucking time. I'm going to help run our business so that my husband can stop working 10-12 hours a day, 6 days a week. I'm going to take care of my house so that it's a calm, safe, happy place for whoever walks through my door, I'm going to write. As in, write a book.
It's funny, all these years I thought I needed to be more and it turns out, I just needed to be me. And when I finally gave myself permission to do that, the world lifted off my shoulders and I could breathe again.
There are still some scary, ugly things I have to get in order and things are in motion to do so. It might not all turn out beautifully, but that's okay. In the Dark Days that may be ahead, I will remind myself that I can do this. I can Stand Fast. I will not break and if I fall, I will get up. I am Neo.
So, I got up. I shook off the dust and said, "Bring it the fuck on."
I did, however make some changes. It's funny how a beating makes you reevaluate your life and remember what's important and what's just junk. Technically, I'm back on Facebook but I have zero interest in it. Perhaps that will change with time, perhaps not. So, if I don't respond to a comment, it's not because I'm being bitchy, I probably didn't see it.
Also, I made the decision to be done with school. I applied for graduation and will be taking part in commencement ceremonies in May. I took a long, hard look at what I was doing and realized that I was trying to be something I'm not and have no desire to be. I thought I was supposed to "be someone". Nearly everyone I know is "something"...a teacher, a nurse, an administrator, an attorney. I thought I was supposed to do that too. I was supposed to finish school so I could be "something". It took a 2x4 to the face for me to realize that I already am the thing I want most in the world to be.
I'm a mom.
I'm a Full-Time Mom and I am not ashamed of that. I'm a mom who is privileged to be home when the kids are home. To volunteer in their classrooms or go on field trips. I know their friends because I'm either at their school every day or their friends are at my house. I'm a mom who doubles as a taxi service for the two of them and however many additional kids I can fit in the car. And you know what? I like it. I like that their friends call me Mom and talk to me about stuff. So, instead of torturing myself through 2 more math classes and then transferring to a UC to complete my Bachelor's, I'm going to finish earning my AA and then I'm going to be completely satisfied with it.
I'm going to continue being a mom and enjoy it without the pressure of being in school all the fucking time. I'm going to help run our business so that my husband can stop working 10-12 hours a day, 6 days a week. I'm going to take care of my house so that it's a calm, safe, happy place for whoever walks through my door, I'm going to write. As in, write a book.
It's funny, all these years I thought I needed to be more and it turns out, I just needed to be me. And when I finally gave myself permission to do that, the world lifted off my shoulders and I could breathe again.
There are still some scary, ugly things I have to get in order and things are in motion to do so. It might not all turn out beautifully, but that's okay. In the Dark Days that may be ahead, I will remind myself that I can do this. I can Stand Fast. I will not break and if I fall, I will get up. I am Neo.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Dark days
I miss the days when the biggest decision I had to make was what to wear or what to make for dinner. I have come to the profound realization over the past week and a half that the normal, every day "problems" that we bitch about and complain to our girlfriends over a glass of wine about are simply blessings in disguise. I would love to complain to Tracy that The Mr stayed out late twice this week to play pool with his boyfriends. I would love to whine and cry that I spend what seems like every waking moment in my car, driving the girls to school or dance or youth group. Yeah. That would be super terrific.
Life at home has taken some drastic turns recently and those turns have had some resounding ripples that I am trying to deal with as best as I know how. I'm sure that when I look back on these dark days, I will say that it wasn't as bad as it seemed. I hope I do, anyway.
In the midst of this madness, I'm taking another math class. We are 4 weeks in and I was lost 2 weeks ago. I just don't care. It's the last class before I graduate (although technically, I need 2 more math classes if I want anything better than an AA) and I don't care. Math has absolutely nothing to do with my major and I can't fathom why I need so much math to continue. And I'll tell you another thing. I'm 36 years old and guess what? I've lived this whole time and have never experienced a single moment where I thought to myself, "Wow, I'm super glad I took so much math and I sure could use even higher math right this very second." Whoever tells you that you use anything above basic pre-algebra in real life, unless math is actually integral to your career choice, is high on crack.
And when it comes right down to it, I don't even really have a great desire to use the fucking degree I'm working so hard to get. Isn't that ironic.
Oh, and I broke up with Facebook and surprisingly enough, I don't miss it. Not even a little bit. I don't miss the stupidity or the drama or the blatant screams for attention. I might let FB woo me again in the future but in the meantime, it can go fuck itself too.
So, readers, think happy thoughts for me.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
And we go round and round...
I have isolated the problem with our health care system. Seriously.
We have been very fortunate to have the girls covered under Healthy Families since they were born. The Mr and I don't have coverage...but that's a post for another day ;). Anyway, it's that time of year when we have to renew our application for coverage. Since we are self-employed, we have to submit different paperwork than your average bear. We have to provide something called a Profit and Loss Statement. Now, I won't bore you with the details (you're welcome), but I will tell you that through this process, I have discovered the root of all bureaucratic red-tape evil. It's stupidity. True story.
Ready?
At the bottom of our Profit and Loss Statement, we have to certify that we aren't pulling Big Brother's leg. We have to say something like, "The information provided is true to the full extent of my knowledge". Sounds pretty simple, right?
Nooooooooo.........
Here is what I submitted, a month ago...
"The information provided is correct to the full extent of my knowledge"
Pretty stellar word choice, right? Apparently, the Powers That Be took exception to my beautiful declaration and said that I have to include "above". Because clearly, when you include a statement about money shit on the same page as your money shit, there can be some confusion about what you're referring to. Perhaps, I was certifying that all the invisible numbers were true and you just had to use your imagination to see them.
So, I sent them this, "The information provided ABOVE is correct to the full extent of my knowledge". Bueno! Nope...no bueno. 2 weeks later, I receive a notification that the coverage will expire because they asked for paperwork and I didn't provide it. Huh.
So, I called and politely asked, "Really? What the fuck is the problem this time?"
I guess I'm shady as fuck and can't be trusted, because the word "true" just won't cut it. Now, I have to say "true and correct". Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but don't they mean the same thing in a general sense? I mean, really...You can't say something is true if it isn't correct and you can't claim something is correct if it isn't true. Right? Maybe I'm splitting hairs here, but come now, this is ridiculous.
So, I faxed them this, "The information provided ABOVE is TRUE and CORRECT to the full extent of my knowledge!!!!" Yes, I used CAPS and EXCLAMATION POINTS. Dammit.
But, really, here's what I wanted to say, "The fucking information provided ABOVE is TRUE and fucking CORRECT to the full extent of my knowledge, Assholes."
But I didn't.
We have been very fortunate to have the girls covered under Healthy Families since they were born. The Mr and I don't have coverage...but that's a post for another day ;). Anyway, it's that time of year when we have to renew our application for coverage. Since we are self-employed, we have to submit different paperwork than your average bear. We have to provide something called a Profit and Loss Statement. Now, I won't bore you with the details (you're welcome), but I will tell you that through this process, I have discovered the root of all bureaucratic red-tape evil. It's stupidity. True story.
Ready?
At the bottom of our Profit and Loss Statement, we have to certify that we aren't pulling Big Brother's leg. We have to say something like, "The information provided is true to the full extent of my knowledge". Sounds pretty simple, right?
Nooooooooo.........
Here is what I submitted, a month ago...
"The information provided is correct to the full extent of my knowledge"
Pretty stellar word choice, right? Apparently, the Powers That Be took exception to my beautiful declaration and said that I have to include "above". Because clearly, when you include a statement about money shit on the same page as your money shit, there can be some confusion about what you're referring to. Perhaps, I was certifying that all the invisible numbers were true and you just had to use your imagination to see them.
So, I sent them this, "The information provided ABOVE is correct to the full extent of my knowledge". Bueno! Nope...no bueno. 2 weeks later, I receive a notification that the coverage will expire because they asked for paperwork and I didn't provide it. Huh.
So, I called and politely asked, "Really? What the fuck is the problem this time?"
I guess I'm shady as fuck and can't be trusted, because the word "true" just won't cut it. Now, I have to say "true and correct". Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but don't they mean the same thing in a general sense? I mean, really...You can't say something is true if it isn't correct and you can't claim something is correct if it isn't true. Right? Maybe I'm splitting hairs here, but come now, this is ridiculous.
So, I faxed them this, "The information provided ABOVE is TRUE and CORRECT to the full extent of my knowledge!!!!" Yes, I used CAPS and EXCLAMATION POINTS. Dammit.
But, really, here's what I wanted to say, "The fucking information provided ABOVE is TRUE and fucking CORRECT to the full extent of my knowledge, Assholes."
But I didn't.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Ants, laundry and being thankful
I have been waging a great battle. Seriously, I am currently engaged with a vast and menacing army and I don't think I'm winning. The Great Ant Battle is currently underway in my house. Ants makes me homicidal. True story. As of right now, my kitchen is torn apart because there were ants in my butter dish, on the dishes, the paper towels and in the silverware drawer. They are also hanging out in the bathrooms and wandering around Little Bit's dresser. Why they were crawling all over the extra paper towels and trooping across the top of the dresser, I'll never know. Hey, I never said ants were smart.
Anyway...
Like I said, ants makes me homicidal and being homicidal is pretty much a negative thing. As I was thinking about my blog today, I thought...I'm going to blog about the stupid ants! That will show the little bastards! But then, I remembered that ants don't have access to the internet and even if they did, I'm pretty sure they can't read.
Sooo.....
I decided to go against my deepest, darkest feelings and blog about things I'm thankful for.
Ready?
I am thankful for ants in my butter...because this means I have food in my kitchen.
I am thankful for a broken dishwasher...because this means I have dirty plates due to my kids getting to eat every day.
I am thankful for ants in the bathrooms...because this means we have indoor plumbing.
I am thankful for bills...because this means my family has a roof over our heads.
I am thankful for piles of laundry...because this means that my family has clothes on their backs.
I am thankful the stupid signs my neighbor puts in her yard...because this means our neighborhood is a safe place for kids to hang out and play.
I am thankful for ridiculous gas prices...because this means I have a car to put gas into.
I am thankful for the obscene cell phone bill my daughter ran up...because this means she has dear friends to talk to.
I am thankful for my alarm clock...because this means I have purpose every day.
I am thankful my husband works 6 days a week...because this means my family is provided for.
Did you see what I did there? Normally, I would just bitch, bitch, bitch about this stuff. But today, today, I choose joy and thankfulness.
Anyway...
Like I said, ants makes me homicidal and being homicidal is pretty much a negative thing. As I was thinking about my blog today, I thought...I'm going to blog about the stupid ants! That will show the little bastards! But then, I remembered that ants don't have access to the internet and even if they did, I'm pretty sure they can't read.
Sooo.....
I decided to go against my deepest, darkest feelings and blog about things I'm thankful for.
Ready?
I am thankful for ants in my butter...because this means I have food in my kitchen.
I am thankful for a broken dishwasher...because this means I have dirty plates due to my kids getting to eat every day.
I am thankful for ants in the bathrooms...because this means we have indoor plumbing.
I am thankful for bills...because this means my family has a roof over our heads.
I am thankful for piles of laundry...because this means that my family has clothes on their backs.
I am thankful the stupid signs my neighbor puts in her yard...because this means our neighborhood is a safe place for kids to hang out and play.
I am thankful for ridiculous gas prices...because this means I have a car to put gas into.
I am thankful for the obscene cell phone bill my daughter ran up...because this means she has dear friends to talk to.
I am thankful for my alarm clock...because this means I have purpose every day.
I am thankful my husband works 6 days a week...because this means my family is provided for.
Did you see what I did there? Normally, I would just bitch, bitch, bitch about this stuff. But today, today, I choose joy and thankfulness.
Monday, December 10, 2012
In which I get heckled
I love Pinterest. Seriously, it's a super terrific place to get ideas for crafting, cooking, etc. It's also my favorite place to go for a laugh. And laugh, I do. I poke fun at stupid people, myself and life in general. One of the things I pin about is politics. I am not a fan of politicians in general and take advantage of any opportunity to get a giggle at the expense of political stupidity.
Apparently, Pinterest has revealed my true nature as a "hater". Now, my personal opinion is that people use the term "hater" when they disagree with something you do or say but have no valid argument to present. As in, "Oh! You posted a smart ass pin about President Obama but seeing as I don't really know you or clearly have no understanding of your principles or values, I'm going to call you a hater and be generally obnoxious.".
I was happily pinning shit that made me laugh and then I received an e-mail telling me that someone had commented on four of my pins. I was super excited because while people frequently repin things I post, they rarely comment. All I thought was, "Yay!". Then I looked at the comments...Not only were they not fun and witty comments, they were rude and abusive.
Huh.
I didn't bother to respond to the comments and subsequently deleted them, thinking that perhaps the commentor was having a bad day or perhaps hadn't gone poop for awhile and was just a little cranky. Nope. She kept on commenting. So, I fired one back, asking why she continued to rudely comment. Her repsonse was that I was obviously a "hater".
Now, intrepid readers, I can admit that rather than taking the high road and ignoring her, I found myself posting pins that I was sure would irritate her. I know, I know, probably not the nicest thing to do. But honestly, I pin for myself not anyone else and if it makes me laugh, I'm going to pin it. Consider it icing on the cake if it pissed her off in the process. So sue me. Anyway, because I love you, I have posted the most entertaining exchange. Before you think I'm a complete bitch, I have removed her name from these postings because I don't reveal anyone's personal information. Ever. Let's just call her Thundercloud, shall we?
This is the pin that I posted. Funny, right? I realized the other day that I haven't been fond of a presidential candidate in many, many years, so this isn't me just harping on Obama. But, you know, take it any way you want ;)
Me:
If you are so inherently opposed to what I pin, why bother following this board? This isn't meant to be a public forum for debate.
Thundercloud:
I'm not follpwing you, don't worry. Just can't stand haters when I accidently run across them in this world. Sorry for you.
I'm not follpwing you, don't worry. Just can't stand haters when I accidently run across them in this world. Sorry for you.
Me:
Oh brother...get over yourself. Self righteousness is unattractive.
Thundercloud:
Still sorry for you, now knock it off and talk to someone that agrees with your sick outlook on this world.
Still sorry for you, now knock it off and talk to someone that agrees with your sick outlook on this world.
Me:
Oh honey, you're the one who started commenting, remember? I'm just pinning shit that makes me laugh, not getting butt hurt when I see something I don't agree with.
B: (this is a friend of mine)
Wow, someone needs to get a life don't they?
Wow, someone needs to get a life don't they?
Another Pinterest user:
LOVE THIS PIN!!! So sad, but true!
LOVE THIS PIN!!! So sad, but true!
Me:
You know, I think its one of those times where "live and let live" don't apply. I'm sure, had the election gone the other way, her boards would be filled with Romney bashing pins. It's all good, people like that amuse me more than anything :)
You know, I think its one of those times where "live and let live" don't apply. I'm sure, had the election gone the other way, her boards would be filled with Romney bashing pins. It's all good, people like that amuse me more than anything :)
Thundercloud:
No I don't pin hateful things. Would block all you haters with no respect if I could. What are you teaching your children?. So Sad .
No I don't pin hateful things. Would block all you haters with no respect if I could. What are you teaching your children?. So Sad .
Me:
Wow, who ate your bowl of sunshine? It's called having a sense of humor, you should try it. And feel free to block me anytime, seeing as you keep coming back to my pins...not the other way around.
Funny shit, huh? My personal favorite is where she questions my parenting skills. Now, I'm curious, of the two of us, which one seems to be hateful and aggressive?
Saturday, November 24, 2012
In which I get saucy in my sleep
I don't know about you, but Winter wreaks havoc on my sleep. I know that you are just dying to know what I'm talking about because you are here on this blog that clearly never goes anywhere and is simply a product of my over active imagination.
Anyway...
In the Winter, the heat is on (because The Mr. is a delicate flower and gets cold...big baby), since the heat is on, I get parched in my sleep. Yes, parched! I use big words now, big words are cool. When I get parched, I get thirsty and when I get thirsty, I cough. And this wakes me up. Still with me?
Good.
Last night, I woke up coughing and so I got up and went to the kitchen for a drink of water. Now, here is where the story gets fuzzy. I was sure that I went right back to bed and fell asleep. Sounds legit, right? According to The Mr, this was not the case. His version of the story goes like this...
I came back to bed and sat down on the edge. And didn't take that next critical step, the lying down step. Never one to miss an opportunity, The Mr reached over and, um...placed his hand on my northern regions. My response to this? "Why, hello there!".
Now, I can't testify to the validity of this event but in all honesty, it sounds about right according to the recent night time antics my brain has been playing on me. Greeting my husband's wandering hand with a suggestive and slightly shady, "Why, hello there!" pales in comparison to my recent dream in which I was in a McDonald's bathroom and the toilets where so high up off the floor, that I had to leap up onto it and then, when I managed to get up there, the toilet became a swing toilet and there was some sort of circus happening under me.
See? Winter + heat = havoc.
Anyway...
In the Winter, the heat is on (because The Mr. is a delicate flower and gets cold...big baby), since the heat is on, I get parched in my sleep. Yes, parched! I use big words now, big words are cool. When I get parched, I get thirsty and when I get thirsty, I cough. And this wakes me up. Still with me?
Good.
Last night, I woke up coughing and so I got up and went to the kitchen for a drink of water. Now, here is where the story gets fuzzy. I was sure that I went right back to bed and fell asleep. Sounds legit, right? According to The Mr, this was not the case. His version of the story goes like this...
I came back to bed and sat down on the edge. And didn't take that next critical step, the lying down step. Never one to miss an opportunity, The Mr reached over and, um...placed his hand on my northern regions. My response to this? "Why, hello there!".
Now, I can't testify to the validity of this event but in all honesty, it sounds about right according to the recent night time antics my brain has been playing on me. Greeting my husband's wandering hand with a suggestive and slightly shady, "Why, hello there!" pales in comparison to my recent dream in which I was in a McDonald's bathroom and the toilets where so high up off the floor, that I had to leap up onto it and then, when I managed to get up there, the toilet became a swing toilet and there was some sort of circus happening under me.
See? Winter + heat = havoc.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Dishes, men and be kind to your nurse
I think The Mr. might be losing his eyesight. True story. Last night, I had the pleasure of having a celebratory glass of wine (okay, maybe several glasses of celebratory wine) with my very best friend, Tracy. We were toasting to the news that she was accepted into the nursing program. Not only am I excited because she's my bestie and this is her life's dream but because she will be an amazing nurse. Also, she might one day be the one to stick me with a needle and I don't know about you, but I prefer people with that kind of power to be on my side! Seriously folks, be kind to your nurses.
Anyway, before I left for her house, I made dinner, supervised homework and gave out instructions regarding showers and bedtimes. When I left, there were a few dishes in the sink, but not many. When I arrived home, about 3 hours later, it looked as if every cabinet in the kitchen had exploded and there was a pile of dishes a mile high. Not only were there dishes everywhere, but there were dishes with FOOD still on them. Really? You can't even rinse your dish off? Now, I get that men are completely unaware of where things are in the kitchen (as well as the rest of the house, apparently), but the sink is literally right next to the dishwasher. It's a one stop shop. Sink, soap, sponge, dishwasher. It's not rocket science. I know that it's not rocket science because I am not a rocket scientist and manage to do the dishes EVERY DAMN DAY.
I also know that my husband is not a completely incompetent person who would ignore the mess and go to bed and lie there with his laptop on his chest watching YouTube videos until he falls asleep. Riiiiiggghhhttt...
Therefore, the only explanation I can come to that would justify this behavior is that he's going blind. And because he's going blind, he couldn't SEE the dishes piled in the sink. And because he couldn't see them, he couldn't wash them.
See?
Anyway, before I left for her house, I made dinner, supervised homework and gave out instructions regarding showers and bedtimes. When I left, there were a few dishes in the sink, but not many. When I arrived home, about 3 hours later, it looked as if every cabinet in the kitchen had exploded and there was a pile of dishes a mile high. Not only were there dishes everywhere, but there were dishes with FOOD still on them. Really? You can't even rinse your dish off? Now, I get that men are completely unaware of where things are in the kitchen (as well as the rest of the house, apparently), but the sink is literally right next to the dishwasher. It's a one stop shop. Sink, soap, sponge, dishwasher. It's not rocket science. I know that it's not rocket science because I am not a rocket scientist and manage to do the dishes EVERY DAMN DAY.
I also know that my husband is not a completely incompetent person who would ignore the mess and go to bed and lie there with his laptop on his chest watching YouTube videos until he falls asleep. Riiiiiggghhhttt...
Therefore, the only explanation I can come to that would justify this behavior is that he's going blind. And because he's going blind, he couldn't SEE the dishes piled in the sink. And because he couldn't see them, he couldn't wash them.
See?
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
In which parents do the stupidest things
My 10 year old came home yesterday talking about the election. They voted in their classroom and talked about the election process. Good stuff.
However...
She also reported that she heard the following:
Some kids said they didn't want Mitt Romney to win because he is LDS. Because he is LDS, if elected, he might "do" one or more (Please note that I have added my very own commentary. You're welcome):
However...
She also reported that she heard the following:
Some kids said they didn't want Mitt Romney to win because he is LDS. Because he is LDS, if elected, he might "do" one or more (Please note that I have added my very own commentary. You're welcome):
- Ban all coffee and caffeinated drinks. Because you know, caffeine is such a hot button issue and presidents are SUPER concerned with what you drink.
- Ban the wearing of tank tops. This one was my favorite. Every president that has ever been in office has been asked the question, "Women wear too many tank tops, how are you going to use your term in office to solve this heinous and rampant crime?"
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
An open letter to Bank of America
Dear Bank of America,
How are you? Good? That's nice. Let me tell you how I am. Better yet, let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time, a family bought their first home and they said, "It's good." The years went by and America began to fail. The jobs went away, the money went away and the government turned a blind eye. Then, in what seemed like a miracle, the government said, "We'll help you, Americans!" We thought, "Finally!". Sadly, the government only had eyes for you, the Big Bank. You got your bailout and we got...nothing. No jobs, no money, no bacon. Then, the government said, "The banks will help you, Americans!". You were supposed to help us keep our homes. You were supposed to do the right thing and help our economy get back on its feet.
But you didn't. Shame on you.
The government enacted programs like, Making Homes Affordable and The Hardest Hit Fund. Your job was to work with homeowners that wanted to keep their homes. But you know what? You suck at your job. As it turns out, you were only interested in "helping" homeowners who had crazy interest rates or adjustable rates or balloon payments or in other words, homeowners with bad loans that banks like YOU gave them in the first place. Your plan of action? Foreclose on the house and write it off for your own benefit. It's a win-win for you, isn't it? You write off the loss and then sell the house at a ridiculous price.
Shame on you.
My family wasn't one of the favored ones. Our loan was a good loan. A fixed loan with a low interest rate. Seems pretty great, right? Not so much. Remember the part about no jobs? My husband was in danger of losing his job, so we took a huge risk and opened our own business. By the grace of God, our business was successful. I can feed my kids and pay our bills but there's a little, tiny problem. It's a stretch every month to do so. We looked at our finances and thought, "This is not good.", so we asked for help. For the next 2 years, we "worked" with a Bank of America agent. And by "work", I mean submitting our paperwork and then waiting for an answer. Guess what our answer was? "Your paperwork has expired, you need to resubmit it." For 2 years we did this, because your agent would wait for the paperwork to expire and then ask for it again. In the meantime, we were getting phone calls, 4 or 5 of them a day asking when we were going to make a payment. It's kind of hard to make a payment with no money. As our business improved, we were able to catch up on payments until we were again current. Then, one day, our credit companies started sending us ominous letters in the mail. Things like, "Your credit limit has been reduced" and "We are closing your account". Once we got over our shock, we discovered that Bank of America was accepting our checks every month, cashing them and sending us new statements, but were not applying them to our account. The result? Our credit score showed that we were 5 months behind on our mortgage payments. 5 months! In the meantime, your agent still hadn't gotten our paperwork together enough to be reviewed.
Shame on you.
After many phone calls, our credit was repaired but we were removed from the modification program, ironically called, "The Hope Team" or some such nonsense. But guess what? We still couldn't afford the house. About 6 months ago, we decided to try again, but this time, we hired someone to work on our behalf. We experienced an all too familiar process. Submit, re-submit, re-submit. Wait. Re-submit. Until we finally received our modification letter in the mail. Hallelujah! Let me share with you what I opened...
"We are pleased to tell you that you are approved to enter into a Trial Period Plan under the federal government's Home Affordable Modification Program." Phew! I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe we can finally get some help! Well, guess what? Bank of America is nothing if not predictable. Want to know how much you are willing to "help" us with?
$30.00
Yep, your grand gesture is $30.00 a month less than what we currently pay. I'm feeling overwhelmed by your generosity. How could we ever repay you?
Shame on you.
And as an added bonus, if we decide to make these super affordable "trial payments", you are going to be reporting to the credit bureau that we are only making partial payments. So, not only have you slapped us in the face with your ever so generous $30.00 savings, you are going to spank our credit in the process.
So thanks, Bank of America. Thanks for proving once again that Middle Class America will always get shanked and that your Big Bank and all it's executives will continue to profit from our loss. I hope you enjoy your dirty money, you earned it.
Very Truly Yours,
Middle Class America
How are you? Good? That's nice. Let me tell you how I am. Better yet, let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time, a family bought their first home and they said, "It's good." The years went by and America began to fail. The jobs went away, the money went away and the government turned a blind eye. Then, in what seemed like a miracle, the government said, "We'll help you, Americans!" We thought, "Finally!". Sadly, the government only had eyes for you, the Big Bank. You got your bailout and we got...nothing. No jobs, no money, no bacon. Then, the government said, "The banks will help you, Americans!". You were supposed to help us keep our homes. You were supposed to do the right thing and help our economy get back on its feet.
But you didn't. Shame on you.
The government enacted programs like, Making Homes Affordable and The Hardest Hit Fund. Your job was to work with homeowners that wanted to keep their homes. But you know what? You suck at your job. As it turns out, you were only interested in "helping" homeowners who had crazy interest rates or adjustable rates or balloon payments or in other words, homeowners with bad loans that banks like YOU gave them in the first place. Your plan of action? Foreclose on the house and write it off for your own benefit. It's a win-win for you, isn't it? You write off the loss and then sell the house at a ridiculous price.
Shame on you.
My family wasn't one of the favored ones. Our loan was a good loan. A fixed loan with a low interest rate. Seems pretty great, right? Not so much. Remember the part about no jobs? My husband was in danger of losing his job, so we took a huge risk and opened our own business. By the grace of God, our business was successful. I can feed my kids and pay our bills but there's a little, tiny problem. It's a stretch every month to do so. We looked at our finances and thought, "This is not good.", so we asked for help. For the next 2 years, we "worked" with a Bank of America agent. And by "work", I mean submitting our paperwork and then waiting for an answer. Guess what our answer was? "Your paperwork has expired, you need to resubmit it." For 2 years we did this, because your agent would wait for the paperwork to expire and then ask for it again. In the meantime, we were getting phone calls, 4 or 5 of them a day asking when we were going to make a payment. It's kind of hard to make a payment with no money. As our business improved, we were able to catch up on payments until we were again current. Then, one day, our credit companies started sending us ominous letters in the mail. Things like, "Your credit limit has been reduced" and "We are closing your account". Once we got over our shock, we discovered that Bank of America was accepting our checks every month, cashing them and sending us new statements, but were not applying them to our account. The result? Our credit score showed that we were 5 months behind on our mortgage payments. 5 months! In the meantime, your agent still hadn't gotten our paperwork together enough to be reviewed.
Shame on you.
After many phone calls, our credit was repaired but we were removed from the modification program, ironically called, "The Hope Team" or some such nonsense. But guess what? We still couldn't afford the house. About 6 months ago, we decided to try again, but this time, we hired someone to work on our behalf. We experienced an all too familiar process. Submit, re-submit, re-submit. Wait. Re-submit. Until we finally received our modification letter in the mail. Hallelujah! Let me share with you what I opened...
"We are pleased to tell you that you are approved to enter into a Trial Period Plan under the federal government's Home Affordable Modification Program." Phew! I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe we can finally get some help! Well, guess what? Bank of America is nothing if not predictable. Want to know how much you are willing to "help" us with?
$30.00
Yep, your grand gesture is $30.00 a month less than what we currently pay. I'm feeling overwhelmed by your generosity. How could we ever repay you?
Shame on you.
And as an added bonus, if we decide to make these super affordable "trial payments", you are going to be reporting to the credit bureau that we are only making partial payments. So, not only have you slapped us in the face with your ever so generous $30.00 savings, you are going to spank our credit in the process.
So thanks, Bank of America. Thanks for proving once again that Middle Class America will always get shanked and that your Big Bank and all it's executives will continue to profit from our loss. I hope you enjoy your dirty money, you earned it.
Very Truly Yours,
Middle Class America
Friday, October 26, 2012
In which I ease my mom's worries
We are leaving for a Disney Cruise in 2 days! I'm super excited about it...so excited, in fact, that I decided to make a schedule for my mom because as moms are wont to do, she likes knowing where we are and what we're doing. I think this should ease her mind and allow her to know that we are safe and having fun!
The Sique’s Epic Adventure at Sea or…In Which We Run Away to be Pirates
Day 1 - October 28, 2012
All Aboard by 4:00 pm (Tito mentioned something about a strip poker game. But I’m sure he was kidding.)
Day 2 - October 29, 2012 (at sea)
Today is “Swim With the Dolphins” day. I hope we can keep up with the ship because according to the Pirates Code, “Whoever falls behind, stays behind.”
Day 3 - October 30, 2012 (at sea)
Today is “Job Switching” on the Disney Wonder. It’s a special time in which the guests and the crew switch places for the day. It should be a real learning experience! I hope they make me Captain.
Day 4 - October 31, 2012 (Puerto Vallarta)
Today we have planned a great day at a spa. It’s called “Cosechamos los órganos de forma gratuita!”. I think it means, We play organs while you harvest your free spirit! Sounds pretty amazing, right?
Day 5 - November 1, 2012 (Cabo San Lucas)
Today we plan to drop the girls off at a local school so they can learn something new and appreciate what they have at home. Then, Tito and I plan to see some local color. This may include the nearest cosmetic surgeon, a brothel and possibly the dentist. Super excited!
Day 6 - November 2, 2012 (Cabo San Lucas)
This is our “Anything Goes” day. Discuss.
Day 7 - November 3, 2012 (at sea)
This day is solely reserved for drinking, dancing and carrying on. And some water skiing. But that’s not definite because the waters may or may not be shark infested.
Day 8 - November 4, 2012
All ashore by 9:30 am. I’m sure we will have made some new friends. Looking forward to sharing our trip with you but I hope you won’t need a kidney anytime soon because Tito is a little unsure about the spa. I bet it’s fine though.
The Sique’s Epic Adventure at Sea or…In Which We Run Away to be Pirates
Day 1 - October 28, 2012
All Aboard by 4:00 pm (Tito mentioned something about a strip poker game. But I’m sure he was kidding.)
Day 2 - October 29, 2012 (at sea)
Today is “Swim With the Dolphins” day. I hope we can keep up with the ship because according to the Pirates Code, “Whoever falls behind, stays behind.”
Day 3 - October 30, 2012 (at sea)
Today is “Job Switching” on the Disney Wonder. It’s a special time in which the guests and the crew switch places for the day. It should be a real learning experience! I hope they make me Captain.
Day 4 - October 31, 2012 (Puerto Vallarta)
Today we have planned a great day at a spa. It’s called “Cosechamos los órganos de forma gratuita!”. I think it means, We play organs while you harvest your free spirit! Sounds pretty amazing, right?
Day 5 - November 1, 2012 (Cabo San Lucas)
Today we plan to drop the girls off at a local school so they can learn something new and appreciate what they have at home. Then, Tito and I plan to see some local color. This may include the nearest cosmetic surgeon, a brothel and possibly the dentist. Super excited!
Day 6 - November 2, 2012 (Cabo San Lucas)
This is our “Anything Goes” day. Discuss.
Day 7 - November 3, 2012 (at sea)
This day is solely reserved for drinking, dancing and carrying on. And some water skiing. But that’s not definite because the waters may or may not be shark infested.
Day 8 - November 4, 2012
All ashore by 9:30 am. I’m sure we will have made some new friends. Looking forward to sharing our trip with you but I hope you won’t need a kidney anytime soon because Tito is a little unsure about the spa. I bet it’s fine though.
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