Why I Should Not Be A Role Model

WARNING: This post contains material some might find offensive.  Some may not know what the heck it means.  Urban Dictionary can tell you (and much more!)  Otherwise, I would not read past this sentence. 🙂

I am the co-leader of m daughter’s Girl Scout troop.  I m still not sure how I was allowed to lead a group of girls, but somehow I passed the muster.  Or it could be that they are just super desperate for leaders.  I’m thinking it might be the latter.

Anyway…one of the badges we are working on is the Bookmaking badge.   The other leader and I decided it would be fun to take apart a book, then use the various parts for different projects.  We found some cute ideas on Pinterest we thought most of the girls would enjoy.  All we needed were some old books.

I volunteered to hit Salvation Army and get enough books for the troop to use.  Since we were using the covers for one project, I tried to find hardcovered books with interesting covers.  I found about 7 books in the kids section, but since we have 12 girls, I had to grab a few adults books.  I stayed away from the romance novels and the murder mystery books since I didn’t think the parents would like their kids carrying around a hardcover art tote with a picture of a bare chested man riding a horse or a giant eyeball with a knife stuck in it.  (Little did I know this was the least of my worries.) Overall, I left with 13 hardcover books for under $4.   Total bargain.

After making the art tote from the covers, our next project was to use the pages of the books to make note cards.  Our original plan was to make them so the girls could give them to their moms on Mother’s Day, but since we really suck at staying on any kind of time line, we didn’t get around to it until this week.

So I’d like to to picture the following scene:

There are seven middle school girls sitting around the dining room table with the task of taking a book page, stenciling a drawing on it, then cutting out the picture and pasting it onto a note card.  Very simple. Very innocent.  See how cute these are?

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My fellow leader was cutting cardstock for the kids and the girls were chatting and picking out pages for their projects.  I was doing my typical activity: drinking Dunkins and watching my friend do all the work. 🙂

A few girls were checking out what was written on the pages, but most were starting to stencil when my daughter (of course) grabs one of the pages and starts to read out loud….

“Oh nice! This says “regular sex, three-way, pussy eating, anal, anal with dildo….”

My fellow leader and I froze.  It was like one of those scenes in a movie where time slows down and the main character  sees everything in slow motion.  I could feel all the neurons in my brain slowly connecting as I processed what I was hearing.

When what she said finally registered in my brain, I immediately dove across the table and ripped the page from her hands.  Of course, the other girls are now screeching hysterically and begin to frantically dig through the rest of the pages on the table to see if they could find more.    I, on the other hand, was attempting to find any other Xrated pages before the girls got their hands on them.

Really?!  Out of the 400 pages on the table, my kid grabs THAT one.  It must be genetic.

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The other leader is just shaking her head.   She’s known me for years so this is not a shocking situation for her.  Probably quite tame overall.

Leader: What the heck kind of books did you buy?

Me: I certainly didn’t think I bought this type.

Me: This is definitely not a page you want to be putting on a card to your mother.  Unless Girl Scouts has a badge for this?

Leader: Ummm…no.

Girls: Come on Miss Sue!  We know all about that. Let us see the page.

Me: WHAT?!?!?  How the heck do you know what ANY of that means?!  You’re 11!  You shouldn’t know these things.

Daughter: Mom, we’ve all heard about this stuff before.  We know a lot of 7th graders.

Girls: And we read the bathroom walls.

Daughter: yeah, people draw lots of pictures of balls in the stalls.  They are all over the school.

Well, its good to know kids are still learning about sex ed the proper way – though rumors and graffetti.  I’d hate to think the kids today are missing out on the same type of education we got.  I’m not sure if it is sad or pathetic that these kids know a whole hell of a lot more then I ever did at 11.  Of course, we only had older siblings and Benny Hill.  They have social media and YouTube so they definitely have an edge on us.

My daughter could not wait to get home and tell her dad about this.

Daughter: Do you think dad will get mad at me if I tell him what happened?

Me: No.  He will probably think its as hysterical as I do.  Which is why we are still married.

I can’t say that the other seven girls’ dinner conversations about today will go over as well. Most of the parents know me and still continue to send their kids to Girls Scouts every week.  I’m thinking this incident will not be a shocker.  So I have that going for me.   Also, I think I actually did some adult-ing, which is rare.   I mean, I did take the page away at least. (Is it bad, that I kept it?)

Other then getting booted out of Girl Scouts, the bonus of this event is that apparently, I now know that my daughter has way more knowledge about the subject of sex then I was aware of….and I really need to start catching up!

Peace,

Sue

 

 

 

 

 

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Sometimes I Get It Right

This parenting gig is hard work and most of the time, I feel like I am failing miserably.   Very often, I end up regretting something I said or didn’t say.   My parenting line up is often filled with mistakes and a long list of things I should have done better.

But sometimes, I get it right.

Tonight, my daughter was practicing her piano.  She had been doing quite well with practicing daily and was getting so much better with her new song.  Then we had a hectic week and she kept forgetting to practice.  I forgot to remind her as well.  So when she sat down tonight to play, she had forgotten a lot of song and it was choppy.  After the fifth time of trying to get the last piece down, she burst into tears.

“I’m a failure!  I was doing so good and now I can’t play it.  I keep forgetting to practice and I’m making mistakes.  I’ll never be able to play in the recital.”

At first, I just let her sit with me and cry.  Hell, when you’re that frustrated, sometimes a good cry can really help.  I tried to remind her that she did have it down at one point and with a little more practice, she would get there again, but when she gets this upset, it is often futile to attempt any type of reasoning.  So I waited.

Luckily, the boy was downstairs doing backflips off the exercise ball onto the new couch and miscalculated.  The screaming from downstairs was enough to snap my daughter out of her misery and focus on her brother’s.  Once it was determined that the boy was not injured badly (scraped knee) and we were all in agreement that he was a bonehead, things seemed back to normal.

My daughter came up to me and said:  Sometimes I just get so nervous when I have to play in front of people.  I can feel myself start to cry and shake and I am so afraid I will screw up.

Me:  Remember that story we just read about the girl who was afraid of making mistakes?  And the old man helping her said if you are uptight and afraid, the music won’t flow?  We all get afraid about making mistakes, especially in front of other people.  But music should be fun.  You should play it because you enjoy it and it makes you feel good.

Daughter:  I do enjoy it.  I mean, I don’t want to do it when I grow up.  I already know what I want to do when I grow up.  I guess I’m lucky because I already know.

Me:  Just because you don’t want to play music professionally, doesn’t mean you can’t do it.  I love art, but I don’t make money doing it.  I do it because it makes me happy.  And you may know what you want to do now, but that could change.   Growing up and knowing what you want to do doesn’t mean just how you want to earn money.  Life is about how you want to make a mark on the world.  Its about finding what you want to do to make a difference in the world while you are here.  I wish I had figured that out earlier.

Daughter:  But you are making a difference in the world.  You’re my mom.

Insert harp music and soft radiant light here.   She really made me take a step back and pause.

Parenting is like performing on a stage.  You are constantly afraid to make a mistake in front of a crowd.  We often feel judged about how we raise our kids.  We are bombarded with people telling us how to parent.  Don’t feed your kids this.  Teach your kids that.  If you don’t do this, your kid will never succeed, get a job, go to college, learn to self regulated, be responsible, (insert whatever other the guilt trip you’ve heard here).  How the hell are you suppose to ever feel good about the job you’re doing with so many voices out there saying you suck?  I do a perfectly good job on my own with the negative talk, thank you very much.  I don’t need a whole backup band adding any more to the melody.

After she went to bed, I was cleaning up the kitchen and notice something on the frig.

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She had written down what I had said to her.  Even put my name down as the author.  When I saw that, I did a double take.  I was truly shocked. That one thing I said had meant enough to her that she stopped and wrote it down so she could remember it.  It was one of those Lifetime movie parenting moments you never really think happen in the real world.    Most of the time, my words fall on deaf ears.  I’m constantly wondering how the hell my kids are ever going to be productive adults in this world when most of the time, they can’t find their way out of a paper bag.   Then something like this happens and all the little pieces fall into place.

 

That’s when you finally realize….. I got one right.

Sue

 

 

 

 

Why my kids don’t have traditions

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My kids desperately want traditions… well, at least my daughter does. She will try to make anything into a tradition.  “Remember when we went out for pizza that night it rained really hard?  We should do that every year.”  The boy could care less about traditions.  He just follows along, hoping there is a toy at the end of the journey.

I think traditions are great.  Creating magical memories your kids can remember then pass on down to their kids is such a cool concept to me.   I envy those who flawlessly provide their kids with Kodak moments on a yearly basis.  Honestly, I would really love to have some more creative traditions other than the ones created for me – Christmas, Halloween, etc.  Unfortunately for my children, most traditions involve two things that I lack the necessary skills for – preparation and memory.  Now, its not like we don’t have any traditions, its just that I really suck at following through with them.

In order to have traditions,  you have to remember the traditions…every year.   I barely remember what month I am in, let alone the day so most of the man-made traditions like holidays seem to sneak up on me when I am not looking.  I check the calendar, see I have a few weeks, and then BAM!  Suddenly,  I find myself putting up the Christmas tree so the f&@^$% elf will arrive and I can’t remember where I hid the F@%$#$ elf the year before.  So I’m just about to head to Walmart at 10:45pm to buy a new F%#^$ elf so the kids don’t have to continue therapy into their senior years when I find it wrapped in a dish towel in my sock drawer.  The sock drawer.  WTF?!

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Then there is the preparation involved in traditions.  I hate prep work.  I won’t eat tuna because it involves more then two steps.  The idea of opening the can, draining it, breaking it up, adding mayo THEN making a sandwich is mind numbing to me.  Since most of the time I have forgotten to eat and now I am at mach 10 on the hunger scale, my only option is to eat whatever is within reach and has a shelf life of two years. Preparing for holidays is right up there with tuna making – exhausting and most likely not happening.

My attic is filled with decorations for ever holiday known to man.  I could decorate the entire neighborhood for Halloween, Christmas and Easter with the crap up in my attic.  I keep buying stuff hoping that this year will be the year I will get my act together and actually set the stuff up.   Then I turn around and Halloween is tomorrow so it seems pointless to drag seven plastic totes out of the attic to set up a myriad of spooky skeletons for just 24 hours.  This year, I actually bought pumpkins to carve.  One disintegrated into a pile of mush on the railing while the other is still hanging in there.  I put a santa hat on it so it looks like it was all part of the plan.

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I would love to give some traditions to my kids that they could pass on to their kids.  Something that bring backs those warm fuzzy feelings of their childhood.  As of now, the most I can give them is a pain in the ass elf who, more often then not, forgets to move, rotten pumpkins in santa hats, and a cache of nerf guns to use for an epic post Christmas day nerf war.   Maybe it will be enough for them.  Who knows.  Or maybe one day, when they are grown, they will realize just how exhausting creating magical memories (and making tuna) can really be. And they too will say “Screw it!”

Happy Holidays

Sue

 

 

 

If A Parent Speaks in the Kitchen and Children are There, Does Anyone Hear What is Said?

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About 90% of the things that come out of my mouth are a waste of time.  Why?  Because most of the time my words are never heard.  Whether I am speaking to my kids, my husband, or even my dog, the words coming out of my mouth often never reach my intended target.  It’s almost like I never spoke at all.

 

Recently, my kids and I were gathered in the kitchen for our morning medication routine.  After giving my kids their downers and popping my uppers, I decided things were going well enough to broach the subject of dinner.

 

I know – big mistake.  A) I should NEVER ask an opinion on dinner.  It always leads nowhere and ends with me pissed off with a headache.  And 2) Don’t ask about something that is more than 5 minutes into the future.  It’s a lost cause.  They’ll never remember the conversation and I am then badgered for the next 7 hours about what’s for dinner.

 

But on this fine day, I broke my rules.  The following that occurred is true.  Only the names have been changed for no real reason.

 

Me:  Hey guys, listen up.  Hey, guys, look at me…look at me. (touching each kid’s shoulder)    I have to ask you something.  You listening?  Everyone?

 

Them:  Yes.  (briefly making eye contact)

 

Me:  I was going to make kielbasa and rice tonight, but we had chicken and rice last night.  Do you want kielbasa or grilled cheese instead.

 

Now I know that is a long sentence and a lot of information followed by a choice, which throws my kids.  This was evident since by the time I said “kielbasa” the first time, the boy had gone back to playing with his lego figure and my daughter had turn to her brother and started an entirely different conversation with him, essentially talking over me.

 

Me:  Hey!  Hello?  I just asked you a question.  Did you hear me at all?

 

Yaya:  Yes. Of course!

 

Me; What did I say?

 

Yaya: ( blank stare)  Umm.  You said brush your hair and your teeth.

 

Me:  That was a half an hour ago.

 

Yaya: Oh.

Me:  (to the boy)  What about you?

 

The boy:  Umm, well, I don’t know because I can’t read yet.

 

Me:  Seriously?  I asked you a question.  I didn’t write anything down.  There was nothing to read.

 

The boy:  Oh.  Well, I don’t know because ummm,you know, I can’t talk so I, ummm, I don’t remember.

 

(SIGH)

 

Me:  I asked about din…

 

Yaya:  Grilled Cheese!  I want grilled cheese!

 

Me:  Oooo-k.  That good with you, dude?

 

The boy:  No.  I want a hot dog.  And I want it shaped like a squid.

 

Yaya:  Oh me too! Can I have a squid hotdog?

 

Me:   Sure.  How about hot dogs with mac and cheese?

 

The boy:  Wait.  I want mine to look like a human instead.

 

Yaya:  A human?  That’s gross!  I still want a squid.

 

The boy:  No wait!  Can you make mine into a creeper?  That what I want!

 

Yaya:  Oooo!  I want an Enderman hot dog!

 

Me:  I’ll make it into the Statue of Liberty if we can just stop this conversation.

 

Great. Now I have a headache.

 

Sue

The Day My Last Brain Cell Died

 

Poor little guy....

Poor little guy….

It was actually uneventful really.  No fanfare, no pomp and circumstance, no bright lights or flashes of color.  It kind of just slowly dimmed until at last, it blinked out, like an old incandescent light bulb.  I expected it to happen really.  They say when you become a parent, your brain cells slowly start to die.  And if you are a stay at home mom…well, forget about it.  Those suckers practically fall out as quick as my peri menopausal hair.  Long days of singing “itsy bitsy spider” four hundred times, speaking in monosyllabic sentences, fielding incessant questions beginning with “why?” along with chicken nuggets and fries as my only nutrition…it was bound to happen.  Inevitable even.  In fact, I am surprised my brain lasted me this long.

My Brain

My Brain

My Brain as Parent

My Brain as a Parent

 

Oh, I tried to fight it.  I did crossword puzzles, played Luminosity every morning, and used big words like fastidious and paradoxical and h’orderves .  But it was no use.  Years of getting my news in 15 minutes snippits and learning just enough about a subject to get by had taken it’s toll.  The thing was on it’s last leg.

 

The day started as any ordinary day.  After conducting our normal 4 hour morning routine, it was now 8:30am and we were ready to hit the stores for some errands.  My ladies at Dunkins had my order ready to go when I walked in.  The future look bright as we headed to our first stop….the pharmacy.

 

Had to get the kids ADHD medication filled.  It was then that I realized something….nowhere in our morning routine today did I actually give my kids their medicine.  This became apparent as I stood at the counter while my daughter launched herself up and down like a kangaroo on crack while rapidly firing questions at the clerk. All the while, the boy was behind me, practicing his ninja moves on the reading glasses display.  I was impressed by the durability of the display as well as his moves.  I quickly debated on going home to get the meds, but decided to forge on.

 

As we were leaving my daughter informs me her “thighs” hurt then she points to her calf muscle.

 

Me: Those are called calves.

Her: Like a baby cow?

Me: Yes

Her: Well then my cows are hurting.

 

This was followed by hysterical laughter…. and then the mooing began.  The boy, of course, happily joined in, having no clue why he was mooing.  They continued the Laurel and Hardy routine – “my cows are hurting”  “MOOOO!!!” – as we drove to our next stop.  I threatened to drop them off at the closest slaughterhouse.

 

Now that the mooing was squashed, we hit Walmart.  There is usually never any good that comes out of a trip to Walmart.  Today was no exception.  I had a return to do and need 3 things.  My daughter announced that she can no longer walk because her “cows” hurt too much.  More mooing.  I ended up putting them both in one of those mack truck carriage that weigh 400 lbs and has no steering ability.  We headed to Customer Service to stand in line, because at Walmart, there is always only one person working the register.  I realized I left my receipt in the car.  Briefly debated on leaving the kids at the service counter, but thought better of it.  I might not come back.  So I pushed the big ass cart back to my car, found the receipt and pushed the cart back to customer service.  Return done, we grabbed the 3 things I needed and 97 things I didn’t and got the hell out of there.

 

I needed to make an exchange at the next store, but realized I forgot the exchange item.  Being one exit from home, I decided to shoot back, take a pee break, grab the bag and head out again.  Screeched into the driveway, grabbed the bag, ran in to pee and got back in the car.  As I opened the door, the dog jumped into the back seat.  The kids started screaming, the dog ran all the way to the back of the van and wouldn’t come out.  F$@%k it.  You’re coming with us now, a-hole.

 

Halfway to the store it hit me.  I left the f(*&*ing bag at the house!  AGAIN!

 

And that is when it happened….that poor little brain cell, hanging by it’s nails to my gray matter, finally gave out and let go, falling slowly, silently screaming as it died in my head. Poof! It was over in a matter of seconds.

 

Strangely, I don’t feel any different now then when I had a brain.  Maybe I never really need it in the first place.   I always considered myself as a somewhat intelligent person, but maybe I never was.

 

I am not sure what life holds for me going forward without a brain.  I am hoping I just roll along through life, blissfully ignorant to the world around me.  If that is the case then you might just see me riding around in my van, filled with the delightful sounds of mooing….and it may be me whose leading the chorus.

 

Peace and Moos

Sue

 

Please Just Shut The @%#^$^* Up!

Sometimes I think my ears might start to bleed….

 

Why?  Because my kids never stop talking.  They talk ALL. THE. TIME.  They don’t even care if anyone is listening.  And when they aren’t talking, they are making random, annoying noises.  Just…. noises.  WTF?  Why?  It can be annoying as all hell, but  I have generally become proficient in tuning them out most of the time.

 

The thing I have a hard time dealing with is the questions. The Never. Ending. Questions.

 

My son is the biggest offender in this category.  He is constantly asking questions, most of the time, just for the sake of asking something.

 

Quite a few of  his questions are legit, like “what are we doing today?” or “can I have a snack?” Continue reading

What I truly want for Mother’s Day

Each time the month of May rolls around, my husband and I have the same conversation we had the year before.  It goes something like this:
Him: Crap!  It’s May, isn’t it?
Me: Yep
Him:  Is Mother’s Day this weekend?  And your birthday is soon too.  I have to get you something.  What do you want? Continue reading

How I Became “That” Mom

© Vasic | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images


© Vasic | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

I never really wanted kids.  I was actually quite adamant about it.  Then my damn sister had to go and have a baby.  And when I held my beautiful, little nephew in my arms, I was all done.  Sign me up.   I wanted one of those sweet-smelling, warm, cuddly lumps of joy. Continue reading

ADHD….The Gift That Keeps On Giving

So since Jen had to go and get all serious with her sappy post and since I am in no way a competitive person, I decided I should top her post with my own serious take on life.

When you become pregnant for the first time, you can’t help but imagine what you child will be like or what kind of parent you will be.  It’s only natural.  When I was pregnant with my daughter, I thought about this often and wondered…what would she look like?..what would her little voice sound like?…what type of personality would she have?  But there is also that fear in the back of your mind…what if something is wrong with my child?  Those thoughts are the ones you push back and try not to let creep up front.  I once asked my husband what we would do if our child had a problem, a special need or disability.  He answered “we’d deal with it.”   Just that simple.  At the time, I don’t think either of us really thought we’d actually ever have to do just that. Continue reading

SURPRISE! IT’S……..BEDTIME!

When it comes to life, there are certain things that we just know will happen.  Routine things that happen every day or that we know we will experience in our life like… there are 24 hours in a day, there are 7 days in a week, laundry and dishes will never be completed, your boobs will sag as you age (especially after nursing 2 kids!)….things like that.  Then there are the surprises in life.  We all know life can be full of surprise and we somewhat expect we will be surprised by at least a few things in our life like….Surprise! Your husband’s vasectomy didn’t take and now you are pregnant with your 4th child! (not me, Thank God, but it happens) or Surprise!  Your mother in law is moving in with her 4 cats, one of which is blind and has a bladder control issue (again not me.  I love my MIL), or Surprise! It’s…..Bedtime! Continue reading