Travel karma

I decided this year that in my holiday travels I would not cart along my computer.  This means that I have not kept up with email, checked facebook, or blogged.  But today I am at a friend's house (still traveling) and while she is being tortured by the kids (they set up a spa for her to get her hair done, get a back rub, and receive a foot massage), I have a few moments to blog. 

We are having a good Christmas vacation.  In order to fully understand the meaning of this you must understand my travel karma.  Most of my friends refuse to travel with me.  They will meet me at destinations but they will not travel with me.  And it is a wise decision on their part.  This can best be described by telling you of Christmas vacation 2 years ago.

I set out on the first day to travel.  I had about a 15 hour drive to my friend's house.  I was prepared.  I packed.  I medicated (pukey girl was not going to be puking).  I had money.  I had gas.  As I started out on my drive it was raining.  And for some reason it did not occur to me that it was raining which good only mean snow as I headed north.  Through the mountains.  Or maybe it was that I am cocky -- I have lived in snow most of my life.  About 5 hours into the drive I realized it was really snowing hard.  And I was stressed.  And that maybe the safest thing for me to do was to stop at a hotel and wait out the storm.  As I made this decision I saw a sign for a hotel at the next exit.  I took the exit and found the hotel.  In a ditch.  There was no way I was going to drive my car down a ditch even for a hotel in a snow storm.  I would be stuck for days.  So I pulled into the gas station across the road. 

I sat debating what to do but in the end... the answer was still the same.  I needed to find another hotel.  Close by.  It was getting worse by the moment.  I went into the convenience store and asked for directions to the nearest hotel -- that isn't in a ditch.  Why is it that no person that works in a convenience store ever knows directions to any place?  It could be right next door and they never know how to get there.  Well that is the answer that I got.  They had no idea where a hotel was.  Luckily there was a fireman in the store and he gave me directions to the nearest hotel.  Moral -- stop at the fire station.  He pointed me in a direction of the nearest hotel -- which required some back tracking.

We eventually arrived at the hotel and I slid into the parking lot.  As I waited for the attendant to give me a room I watched several men pushing many cars around the parking lot into what might be determined to be parking spots.  After checking in, they got to push my car into a snow bank parking spot.  We unloaded into the car into the hotel, made a few phone calls to let people know we were safe and staying put, and wading across the slushy road to the convenience store to get something for dinner.  Oh yeah, the hotel was really a "motel."  I gave Ladybug a bath, washed her hair, and put in a new hair style.  I didn't worry about the water she splashed every where in the bathroom.  I let her jump on the bed.  We watched movies.  We cranked the heat.  Sometime before settling into bed for the night I discovered bugs.  Lots and lots of bugs.  Immature cock roaches.  Everywhere.  And there was nothing I could do about it.  NOTHING!  I was there because of a snow storm.  Me, Ladybug, and a million cock roaches were just going to have to spend the night together.  I decided I would just have to be okay with it.

Sometime in the middle of the night, as I woke up and freaked out by brushing the cock roaches from my face...then freaking out that I must have brushed them on to Ladybug, I decided I was no longer okay with sharing a room with a million teenage cock roaches.  We left the roach motel as soon as it got light out.  We slid our way out of the snow bank and out of the parking lot.  We inched our way back onto the highway.  We weaved our way up the hills, through the mountains, and through the dozens and dozens of abandoned cars.   Seriously, cars were everywhere along the road.  On the road.  Parked.  Abandoned.  And I wondered ... where did all the people go?  Seriously.  We were in the middle of no where.  Where did the people go when they left their car?  It makes no sense.

In stead of going to my friend's house that day I stopped at my aunt's house.  I emptied everything on the front lawn and shook until I was sure there were no more bugs in my things.  I washed everything.  I spent the night. 

The adventures did not end there.  I ended up with pneumonia that year while I was traveling.  I also ended up breaking a toe (and dislocated it) and spending a day in the ER while a nurse tortured me by trying to put it back into the right position.  My tires were bald (I was not aware of this) and drove through every snow storm in the area.  It snowed even when it wasn't suppose to just because I was driving.

So, it is a good Christmas this year... much better than that year.  But I will save those adventures for another blog entry -- mostly because they are not over yet -- still traveling.

Mean Mama

oh fudge

Every year at Christmas time I make fudge.  It is the easy kind -- with fluff.   It is good.  Everybody asks for it.  Nobody knows that I cheat.  Well, I do tell them if they ask.  We, Ladybug and I, made our first batch this year.

You need to start with these things.

3 cups of sugar
1.5 sticks of butter
1 5 ounce can of condensed milk

Put them in a pan and heat under medium heat.  Stir constantly.  CONSTANTLY!

Note the large pan I use.  It is better to be in a larger pan.  Also note that I use a teflon pan -- this makes it much easier later when you are transferring the fudge from this pan to the pan it is setting in.

Stir until the butter is melted.  Still until it starts to bubble.  Once it is boiling stir and boil for 4 minutes.  Do not let it burn.

After 4 minutes of boiling remove from the heat and add the next set of ingredients.

One small jar of fluff (I think it is 7 ounces)
1 teaspoon of vanilla
Semisweet chocolate

Typically I use squares of bakers chocolate but apparently everybody else in my area was making something with chocolate today and there was none in the store.  So I used chips.  We used the whole 12 ounce bag (minus the ones Ladybug ate to check and make sure they were not poisonous).

This is a very fast process.  I suggest getting everything ready to go.  I opened the bag of chocolate (or unwrap the squares), loosened the top on the vanilla, had a teaspoon ready, opened the fluff, and had the spatula ready.  Once you remove the boiling mixture from the heat it begins to cool and set.  Once you remove it pour in the fluff, chocolate, and vanilla.  And stir.  Fast.

I tried to take a picture of this but my camera is dying and refuses to stay on.  So after several attempts I realized I was running out of time to stir and I had to focus on the fudge.  Once it is fully stirred pour into a greased 9x9 pan.  Let cool completely before removing from the pan and cutting into servings.

I let Ladybug lick the spoon and she was delighted.

Me: This is the best part of Christmas...making fudge.
Ladybug: I like the fudge, Mama, but the best part of Christmas is showing love.

She's right.

Mean Mama

Getting personal

I was out braving the Christmas shopping today.  Not because I had a desire to deal with angry, frustrated people.  But because I was kid free.  It was likely my only time I would be kid free between now and Christmas.  And I need to start the Santa process.  I was focused -- time limits will do that to me.  Ladybug spent the night with a friend last night and they are both spending the night here tonight.  Single mamas sharing responsibilities.

I was not feeling great this morning.  I drank a little too much last night.  It made me sleep terrible.  But with time constraints it does not matter.  I started out at the mall.  Just a short trip.  There was one store I needed to go in.  In.  Buy.  Out.  Then I headed to the hair product and supply store.  My niece is getting stuff so her mama can learn how to do pretty hair.  Then I went to bookstore number 1.  And because I did not find what I wanted I headed to bookstore number 2.

This is where it got interesting.  I was walking toward the store -- long walk because this time of year there is absolutely not chance of getting a close parking space.  A man coming out of the store caught my eye.  He was tall -- well over 6 feet.  He was slender -- I am guessing less then 5% body fat.  He was muscular -- not beefed up but well taken care of.  I am sure he bikes well over 100 miles a week and then runs 20 miles just for fun.  He caught my eye not because he was some hot guy I would be interested in.  He caught my eye because he had an air about him.  The air was saying, "I take care of myself and therefore I am better than you."  And it appeared as if I had caught his eye too (okay in reality we happened to be the only 2 people walking through the parking lot at that moment), but I am not delusional enough to think he was interested. 

As he got closer to me it became apparent he was going to say something to me.  Was he going to try to sell me something?  Was he going to say Merry Christmas?  Was he going to comment on my scowl on my face despite my best efforts to stay positive?

Him: You know, you would feel better if you lost some weight.

He what???  A complete stranger?  Called me fat??  In the parking lot! 

For the first time in my life I had a quick response.  You wanna get personal?  Let's get personal.

Me: True.  It would also help if I didn't have cramps, a back ache, and wasn't bleeding like a stuck pig.

My mood improved.  I popped some Tylenol.  And I finished my shopping day with a smile on my face.

Mean Mama

Oops

I woke up this morning knowing there was a possibility that school was canceled for Ladybug.  So the first thing I did was log on to the computer and check the status.  Remember the time when we would wait perched by the radio hoping just to hear the name of our school?  Mine never got canceled -- the superintendent of my school was from Alaska so he would look out the window and think "I've seen worse."  Ladybug's was canceled. 

I was only working until noon today so I could take the afternoon off to get my hair cut and do a little Christmas shopping.  As much as I complain about my boss, I have to admit I have some perks.  I knew I could take her into the office and he would not freak.  So I packed her up and we traveled into work. 

I was the first to arrive.  In the building -- not just my office.  They were still cleaning the parking lot when I arrived and they all stopped and looked at me.  I know they were thinking I was crazy.  This should have been clue number 1.  I started work.  She watched movies.  And drew pictures of horses and rein deers. 

At some point it occurred to me that nobody else was there.  NOBODY! This should have been clue number 2.  The other paralegal was on a vacation day so I wasn't expecting her.  I checked the messages on the phone.  The secretary said the roads were bad and she would try to be in by noon.  The attorneys?  Who knew.  At about 11:30 am (yes, I am a slow learner), I checked my cell phone to get a phone number and discovered I had a message.  I listened to it.  It was my boss (mini) saying that I didn't have to go to work today.  It never occurred to me to check my messages.  It never occurred to me that work might be closed. 

Mean Mama

In our hearts

I recently received an email from my step mom (she has been a lot of my blogs lately) that let me know that her dog had died.  This is not a childhood dog for me -- or he would have been really old -- but he had a special spot in her heart.  And more importantly he had a special place in Ladybug's heart.  I had learned my lesson from the last time I tried to tell Ladybug about a death of a pet --- see here -- so I decided to be more thoughtful about how I told her about the dog.  I would not do this in the middle of a grocery store this time.

When she got up from her nap (something that I rarely manage to get her to do these days but I love it when I pull it off), I sat her on my lap and told her that I had some sad news for her.

Ladybug:  What?
Me: I got an email from Grandma while you were sleeping.  And she told me that Curly died last night.
Ladybug: It's okay Mama.
Me:  (A little surprised she is taking it so well).  I just thought you should know.
Ladybug: Well, he will always be in our hearts.
Me: True.
Ladybug:  So we don't need to be sad.  How did he die.
Me: He was just old.  And his body decided it could not work anymore.
Ladybug:  That happens.
Me: Yes it does.
Ladybug:  I am a little sad that I won't be able to pet him anymore but I know he will always be with me so I am not going to cry.

No wailing.  No crying.  No exclaiming that a member of her family was dead.  Just a very grown up approach to the cycle of life.

Mean Mama

making Christmas presents

The time has arrived.  The most wonderful time of the year.  I must make some Christmas presents.  And now not only do I have to make them from me... but I have to help Ladybug make some from her.  I am just not that creative normally.

About 2 years ago I decided that I needed a hobby.  Well, I needed a hobby that didn't include a computer.  I felt like I was spending too much time on the computer.  I haven't really given up computer time since then but I have gained a new skill.  I decided to start making earrings.  This has been helpful in building up my earring collection.  It has been helpful at birthdays and Christmas.

Tonight after dinner I hauled out my beads and I let Ladybug design some earrings.  These are her designs... I just did the grunt work. 

Here is the pair she designed from my step mom -- who will not only love them but needs them since she lost almost all of her jewelry this year when someone broke into their house (twice).

And here is the pair she designed for my mom (with a little encouragement that my mom is just not into pink in the same way that Ladybug is).

This weekend I plan on designing a bunch more from me to all the women in my life.  Yes, if you are related to me or seeing me this holiday you can plan on getting a Mean Mama Original pair of earrings.  This year I hope to use a set of special beads.  Last year for Christmas I received some Uganda Magazine Beads.  These are beads are made by women in Uganda who use strips of magazines to rolls into various bead shapes.  They are simple.  They are beautiful.  And they are a source of income for these women. So this year I will create some one of a kind earrings using these beads.

Mean Mama

I'm ready

It was one of those mornings.  It started out great.  And she was in a good mood.  So all structure went out the window.  Her choice -- not mine.

I made her breakfast and hopped in the shower.  I started getting dressed and she was in her bathroom.  Singing.  Nothing else.  I eventually went in and sat with her so that she would focus on brushing her teeth.  I begged, borrowed, and stole in order to put on lotion -- she hates putting it on but she itches.  I finished getting dressed and on the way downstairs told her I was going to make lunches and she needed to finish up.

I did the dishes I did not do last night.  I could hear her singing upstairs.  I made her snack.  I could still hear her singing upstairs.  I made her lunch.  Still singing -- starting to get worried.  I made my tea (I hate coffee).  Still singing -- wondering when she might come down.  Before I started making my lunch I walked to the stairs and yell up at her that I am almost done and she needs to hurry up.  She yells back that she is almost ready.  I am pleasanty surprised.

I am in the kitchen, making my lunch, when I hear her descend the stairs.  She walks in the kitchen and announces that she is ready to go.  I don't even turn around.  I just say,  "Good!  Pack you backpack please."  And then I turn around.  And she is standing completely naked in the middle of the kitchen.  She actually isn't joking.  She is serious. 

At least she has lotioned her entire body.

I send her back up to get dressed.  Some mornings are just going to be like that.

Mean Mama

FIA Card Services

One of the things that added to my depression and frustrating week last week was FIA Card Services.  And it wasn't until I got pissed that I was able to deal with it.

I opened my credit card with them 5 years ago...just before Ladybug came home.  I have stupidly loyally stayed with them.  They made my life easier.  As they raised my interest rate.  I don't remember what it started at but it is currently 27.74%.  No, you read that right.  And every year I pay off my balance when I get my tax return.  And then slowly I building up the balance.  With an interest rate like that they make a fair amount of money off of me.  This year I have had a balance on my card of between $4,000-$6,000.  That is a lot of interest. 

So last week, on Ladybug's birthday, I discovered that my card had been cut off.  I have a really high limit so I knew I had not hit that.  There is no reason that I have such a large limit.  Other than they want me to carry a large balance so they can make money off of me. 

I sat anxiously with this knowledge for a couple of days.  I needed to know what was going on but I couldn't face one more piece of depressing news.  Finally on Saturday night I called.

FIA:  We have placed a temporary hold on your account.
Me: Why?
FIA: Because your payment is late.
Me:  (True).  Um.  Yes.  By 4 days.
FIA:  No.
Me:  Yes.  My payment was due on December 5th and you shut off my card on December 9th.
FIA: True.
Me: I have had this account for over 5 years.  I have never heard of a credit card company shutting off a card because my payment is 4 days late.
FIA:  Well we also didn't receive a payment in November.
Me:  That is not true.  As a matter of fact I paid more then the required minimum payment (working on the goal to live debt free.).
FIA:  We do not have a payment recorded for you for November.
Me:  Well I have a canceled check for you in November (a little lie since I don't actually get canceled checks but I could and I know I paid).
FIA:  The last payment we have recorded for you was on November 17th.
Me:  And that would be the "November" payment.  (Am I the only one saying DUH at this point?)
FIA: No we don't have have a November payment for your account.
Me: (crickets...very loud)
FIA:  What would you like to do about your account at this point?
Me:  I would like to never have anything to do with your company again.  I have been a loyal customer.  You have made a lot of money off me.  And I can not believe I am being treated like this.  I can get a better deal almost anywhere else.
FIA:  What are you going to do about it?
Me: I will immediately look into transferring my balance to another account.

I hung up.  Do they need my money?  No.  Will they feel my threat?  No.  Will I follow through?  Already done.  I immediately called my credit union upon hanging up with FIA Card Services.  Even on a Saturday night I managed to open up a credit card account in less than 15 minutes.  With an interest rate of 10.7%.  I have to wait for the paperwork to arrive before I can transfer the balance.  But I will do it.  As soon as possible.

I encourage all of you (all 2 of my loyal readers) to drop FIA Card Services if you have an account with them.  Encourage all your friends and relatives to drop them.  They will not feel me.  But why would you support any company that treats their loyal customers like that?

Mean Mama

I have a drinking problem

I came home from the store today and wanted a drink.  And since I had just come home from the store I had options.  Lots of options.  Apparently too many options. 

I started out with the Mountain Dew I bought.  I love Mountain Dew.  I had grabbed one on the way out of the store.  So I popped it open and took a long drag.  Only one problem.  Apparently I grabbed a diet Mountain Dew.  While I love Mountain Dew, I hate diet Mountain Dew.  Hate it.  Really.   I think it tastes like dirty dish water.  It is gross.

But I decided to drink it anyway.  I got about half way through it.  I wasn't enjoying it.  So I decided to switch drinks.  I had also bought mango juice at the store.  I poured a glass.  I drank it.  But it was really sweeter than I wanted. 

I decided to switch to wine.  Yes, since Thanksgiving I have decided that I like wine.  Well, some wine.  My father left a half bottle of the wine I bought for him and I had poured a glass of that about a week ago and almost gagged.  Not pleasurable at all.  I could not even choke down a sip.  No wonder my dad left half the bottle.  Truly disgusting.  I dumped it.  But I found a dessert wine in the store today.  I popped the cork and poured a glass while I cooked -- lasagna.  How very Italian of me.  Only I am not Italian.

Now I have moved onto tea.  At some point I decided I was cold so I made a cup of tea. 

Too many options.

Mean Mama

get up

I took a few days off of blogging.  Not intentionally.  It just happened.  Because my life was depressing.  And it was beginning to paralyze me.  I watched a lot of TV.  Played a few hidden object games on the computer.  Lost my temper with Ladybug.  I could not shake the funk.  The job -- or lack there of.  The money -- or lack there of.  The bills -- not lack there of. 

I have to say that it is amazing how quickly my house went from nice to barely livable.  I did not fold the clean clothes and they sat on the kitchen table all week.  Ladybug came running downstairs last night naked.  When I questioned her about it she just retorted that all her clean clothes were in the kitchen.  And even that didn't motivate me.  She did the same thing this morning.  The dishes were piled high in sink.  I had no food in the house -- almost literally.  There were crayons and barbies strewn around the living room.  I haven't vacuumed in weeks.  And there were piles of dirty clothes in my room, in her room, in the laundry room. 

And I didn't care.   Okay that is not really true.  I cared.  But I did nothing.  I sat down and did nothing.

Finally I sucked it up last night and did something.  I paid bills.  Which was depressing.  I made a few phone calls.  I did the dishes.  And I went to bed early -- just 30 minutes but still early.  I woke up feeling like I could face the world again.  I put a load of laundry in.  I made pancakes. 

And then I sat down again.  Really.  It is like there is super glue on my ass when I sit down.  Nothing gets me up.   I sat there for about 4 hours.  I knew I should get up.  But I didn't.  Then my step mom called.  Twice.  And I finally got up.  I went food shopping.  I did a few more loads of laundry.  And I cooked. 

If I can keep moving maybe I will soon have my life back in order.  And if I can get my life back in order maybe I will feel better.

Mean Mama

disappointment

A while ago -- I long while ago -- I announced that I made the cut for a second interview for a job I was capable of doing in the area I want to move to.  I then waited.  And waited.  And waited.  I was told I would get a second interview.  I was told they would be in touch.  But they didn't actually set up the second interview.

After waiting 6-8 weeks to hear when that second interview might actually be I contacted them.  They apologized.  But said they were now in the position to move forward with scheduling the second interview.  They would be in touch soon.  So I waited some more.

Now it has been 8 weeks since the last contact.  I know this makes me sound desperate.  Waiting for this long.  But there are not a lot of jobs available.  Anywhere.  Much less in the place I want to move to.  I was willing to find other positions.  There were none.

Then today I did a little research.  And found a news article.  Which states that the position I have applied for will not be filled.  Because they are shutting down the entire program. 

I guess the only good news is that I didn't actually have a job there.  At least I still have my job here. 

But I feel hopeless.

Mean Mama

She does like me

On Monday there was a holiday open house at Ladybug's after school program.  My plan was to go.  I wanted to make sure that I go to these functions.  I know I have to work.  But she only has me.  I don't want her to think I can not make time for her.

Last week the counselors helped the kids make gingerbread houses so that they could show them off to the parents.  Ladybug asked me to go.  She asked me to like hers best.  But she did not seem excited about it. 

But Monday was a big day at work.  We had an arbitration.  I spent all last week preparing for arbitration.  I worked all day on Saturday (Ladybug in tow) preparing for arbitration.  I wanted this to go well.  I like our client.  And opposing party lied to me -- on more than one issue -- and I could prove it.  I was anxious to know how things were going.

About 1/2 hour before quitting time the bosses showed up with stories of what happened.  They both (YES!  Both) praised me for my great work.  And I heard stories.  They told me the issues that did not get reached.  We made plans on what needed to happen next.

Then I skipped out.  On time.  I found the quickest way to the after school program.  I drove up and parked.  I grabbed my coat and took a brisk walk (only partially because it was so flipping cold out) up to the front door.

And there was Ladybug.  Pacing the front lobby.  Waiting.  Talking to anybody who walked by.  When she saw me walk in she screeched with joy and ran to me.  She jumped in my arms and hung on.  She then dragged me to the gym.  Then the cafeteria.  Then back to the gym.  And back to the cafeteria.  She introduced me to all of the counselors (and not one seemed to have a reaction to the fact that I was a white mama to a black child).

It was really nice to see her excitement at my arrival.

Mean Mama

Christmas Tree

Apparently Ladybugs teacher is intent on sending home one major craft project a month.  Last month we had to decorate a turkey so that it doesn't look like a turkey.  So we turned it into a butterfly.

This month she sent home a Christmas tree.  The instructions:
1) The tree is divided into 10 sections.  Each section must contain different decorations.
2) The first section must have 1 item in it.  The second section must have 2 items in it.  And so on.
3) Do NOT buy anything to complete this project.

Easy enough?  Hopefully.  And I am happy I don't have to spend money.  Because I have none to spend.

Ladybug is so excited.  Some of the other kids have turned theirs in already and she can't wait to do hers.  She wants to put marshmallows and beans and pasta on hers.  I don't waste food.  Because I don't have a lot of extra food in the house.  I don't have marshmallows.  Ladybug is pretty sure that makes me a bad mama.  I don't have dried beans.  I do have dried split yellow peas.  I have pasta.  But it is not small macaroni.  It is farfalle and rotini. 

And then I remembered.  Last year we created all our own Christmas decorations.  I had bought things to glue on the decorations.  I rooted through her crafts and found the bag.  Full of decorations.  And hair.  Because she had spilled it last year and I scooped it off the floor along with a bunch of dog hair and just stuck it back in the bag.

In the end this is what she ended up with.  She picked each category.  I found them.  And she glued them.  Oh, and I got to clean up...again.

Mean Mama

preknick

I picked Ladybug up from after school one day last week and she asked...

Ladybug: Mama why did you want to adopt me?
Me: (Oh another one of those questions that makes me wonder what she is really asking.  Adopt HER?  Adopt, in general?  Have children?  This is a crap shoot.)  Because I wanted to be a mommy.
Ladybug: And you don't like being preknick? (because she has no ability to say the word pregnant)
Me: No, I never really wanted to be pregnant.
Ladybug: Because it hurts?
Me:  Well I don't know.  Because I have never been pregnant.
Ladybug:  But when you squeeze the baby out does it hurt?
Me: (Sometimes I regret having those honest open conversations about the facts of life).  Well, I imagine it does hurt some.  But women give birth every day so it must not be as bad as I think.

Ladybug: So you didn't want to give birth?
Me: No.  And I also can't get pregnant (sometimes I open my mouth without thinking).
Ladybug: What? (Real concern)
Me: Oh Honey, it's okay.  It's just that my body doesn't work right so I can't get pregnant.
Ladybug: Are you sick?
Me: No.  There is just something inside my body that doesn't work right so I can't get pregnant.  Everything else is fine. (Seriously how do you explain infertility to a 5 year old?)
Ladybug: (After a silence)  Will my body work right?  Will I be broken?
Me: Oh!  It is nothing you need to worry about right now.  Most women can get pregnant.  And when you are old enough I am sure you will have babies (and I am sure she would think there was nothing worse in the world then not being able to have a baby)

So here is what I accomplished that day:
1) My child thinks I am sick/broken.
2) She thinks giving birth hurts.
3) She is afraid that she might end up sick/broken.

Yeah, another good mama day.  NOT!

Mean Mama

my new puppy

As I finished my other post today, and I was reading it to see if I had made any really stupid comments, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.  So I casually glanced in that direction.  And I saw something crawl across the room.  Toward my cedar chest.

It was a bit of a blur.  And it crawled under the cedar chest before I got a good look at it.  But I knew what it was.  So instead of ignoring it... instead of checking it out... I first made a side trip.  I went to the laundry room.  And armed myself.  I came out with the most deadly weapon I know of.  A tall purple can.  Roach killer.

I went back to the living room and got down on my hands and knees.  Only to discover that apparently I don't spend much time on my knees.  It hurts to kneel on my knees.  So I got down on my belly.  And hoped that the thing had not climbed the stairs up to the bedrooms while I was arming myself.  In the shadows of the cedar chest I saw a little movement in the back.  So I waited.  I stalked.  I ... soon realized that if I was going to strike at some point I was not really in the prime position to attack and protect myself at the same time.  Let's face it -- I am too big to move fast from prone on the floor to up on my feet.

So I got on my feet and waited.  Waited...  I could out wait a roach.  And eventually it ventured out into the open.  And I had one thought.

That thing is the size of a small dog.

But I am the size of a small elephant.  So I pointed and I shot.

And it charged me.  I mean really charged.  Ran full force at me. 

So I stumbled backwards.  Almost lost my footing.  Tried to jump onto the couch.  Missed.  Almost fell.  scrambled up onto the couch.  Pointed and shot again. 

It turned tail and ran.  I hopped off the couch and charged after it.  Spraying the entire time.  And finally it died.

Mean Mama

How do I get into these conversations?

Really??

I was sitting here.  Minding my own business.  Playing on my computer.  Avoiding the work that must be done.

Avoiding the clean laundry thrown on the kitchen table that needs to be folded and prevented us from having dinner like a normal family (or maybe that should read abnormal family?).

Avoiding the bills piling up on my desk that are now past due and I must pay.  Soon!

Avoiding taking the clean dishes out of the dish washer.  Why did I ever think I would stay on top of doing dishes if I had a dishwasher?

Avoiding the pile of dishes now stacked (not so neatly) in the sink and is threatening to spill out on the counters at any moment.

Avoiding vacuuming -- well, because, nobody is coming to our house soon so why bother.

Avoiding putting a cute complicated hairstyle on head -- simple and out of the way would have to do for tonight.

I was successfully avoiding everything.  But there was no way I was going to avoid what was about to happen next.

Ladybug:  Mama who is in charge of of the world?
Me: (I know where this is heading.  I need to say the right thing.  Or at least not say the wrong thing.)  The whole world?
Ladybug:  Yes, who controls the world?
Me: (Yep, here we go.  Do not put your own beliefs on her!)  Well, who do you think controls the world?
Ladybug: God.
Me:  Ok. 
Ladybug: Nobody else could be the boss of the whole world.
Me: (Well, I know I wouldn't want that job).

Mean Mama

sensory issues

When Ladybug first came home we dealt with many things getting to know each other.  She had some serious sleep issues.  She refused to sleep anywhere but my bed.  I could deal with that.  She didn't need much sleep.  I could not deal with that.

Sometimes she had a hard time going to sleep.  The advice I got from other moms was to lightly rub her back and whisper to her that everything was fine.  I tried that.  It didn't work.  What I didn't know at the time was that kids with her type of sensory issues don't like soft touch and whispers.  It is not soothing to her.  I soon learned that.  I use to practically put my body weight on her and she would go to sleep. 

Strange child.

It was years later that I learned that I needed to do hard back rubs -- not light touch.  And she loves, loves, loves them. 

Tonight I was in bed with her trying to get her to go to sleep.  I let her take a late nap on the couch today so I knew this was going to be a challenge.  So I started rubbing her back.  Really rubbing.    HARD!  I was rubbing so hard that I was beginning to wonder if I was hurting her.  Her nightgown (which is a hand me down and might be as old as me) was tingling my hand and I didn't think it was comfortable for me so I didn't know how this was comfortable for her. 

She seemed to relax.  She was quiet.  She was not kicking and rolling and moving around.  And then she rolled her head in my direction and said....

Mama, put your back into it.

She wanted it harder.

Mean Mama

Too old

She cracks me up sometimes.  I mean where does she get this stuff?

We were heading out to lunch yesterday...because I had to work yesterday (yes, a Saturday -- only have working a full Friday when I was suppose to get out at 1pm) ... and we decided to go to the bagel shop.  Yeah!!! No fast food hamburgers. 

I asked her what she want on her bagel.

Ladybug: Just a plain bagel.
Me: No.  You need something other then bread.  (She is such a carb baby)
Ladybug:  Okay with butter and cheese.
Me:  Uh.  NO!  How about ham and cheese?
Ladybug:  Ok.  That works for me, Mother.

When did she get so grown up?

Mean Mama

Step mom

I like my step mom.  Really.  I should.  I am the one who brought her home.

My dad was living with another woman.  There was nothing wrong with her.  But she was focused on my dad.  We were a package deal so she accepted us but she didn't really get into the whole family thing.  She wanted my dad.  She didn't really want my sister and I. 

I use to hang out at my father's work.  He was a single father.  It was easy to get to his place.  And sometimes care needed to be inventive.  They had a lot of pot luck type parties at his work so I got to know the people.  I took a shine to one woman at work.  So I brought her home.  Literally.  I just thought it was fun to hang out.  I didn't realize my dad was enjoying it too.  Until the girlfriend moved out -- but not before she cut out her face from all the pictures left in the house.  Really.

My soon to be step mom moved in soon after that.  I guess I was a good match maker because they have now been married for over 25 years.  At least I did better than my dad did on his own since his first 2 marriages lasted about 18 months each. 

If I was so good at match making for him I wonder why I am still single???

Anyway, I liked her.  Like her.  She is calm and level headed.  She runs interference between me and my dad -- which is necessary sometimes.  She didn't play a "mom" role for us.  I mean she was an authority figure but we had a mom.  She was a step parent.  She was involved but my dad made the parental decisions.  Then she decided that she wanted kids of her own (hot topic language in the adoption world -- but it had nothing to do with biology and everything to do with actually getting to play the mom role).  She mellowed my dad in parenting too.  My younger brother and sister were raised very differently then my sister and I were -- I went off to college the same week my brother was born so we weren't raised in the house together (he married young). 

So I like her.  But she re-arranged my house.  She moved the dish drainer.  She moved my cupboards around.  She even turned my comforter around.  I am not sure why.  I am not sure why either.  I am sure it is not sinister but it is a little annoying.

Mean Mama

More on Project Hopeful

http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=7108307n

Mean Mama

Debt Update

A while ago I posted that I wanted to work on being debt free.

The good news:  I paid off my medical bills today.

The bad news: I had to take Ladybug to the doctor today...here comes more medical bills.
                       I had to put a lot on the credit card this month because it turns out that hosting a Thanksgiving weekend is expensive.
                       I am stressed financially and I need to defer my student loans.

It is all about the choices we make.  And if I make the right choices now it will only make things better for me later.

Mean Mama

Chicken Nuggets

I have been told that I am a picky eater.  I am not.  I don't like seafood or fish.  I refuse to eat squash.  And I think over cooked mushy veggies are gross.  Ladybug on the other hand ... is a picky eater.  It is difficult.  If it isn't a hamburger, pizza or macaroni and cheese then she is not interested.  Unless you consider desserts.

One of the things she likes -- usually -- is chicken nuggets.  And then I saw a video online about how the meat in chicken nuggets is processed.  I was disgusted.  I will spare you the link.  It was almost enough to drive me back to being a vegetarian.

About a month ago Ladybug wanted chicken nuggets.  I bought a bag at the store.  She refused to eat them.  Said they were gross.  No kidding.  I tried one.  They were gross.  So bad that I actually tossed them.

But she has started asking for them again.  I just could not bring myself to buy them.  But then I had an idea.  Over this past holiday I made Chicken Parmesan for dinner.  I followed the recipe and yet somehow I ended up with about 2 cups of breading left over.  So I decided that I would buy some chicken and make nuggets from scratch.  And Ladybug was excited. 

We cut chicken.  We dunked it in egg.  We buried it in breadcrumbs.  We fried it.  Here is the problem.  I can't decide which I find more disgusting -- raw egg or raw chicken.  Really.  They give me the creeps.  Turns my stomach.  So I am dipping one disgusting thing into another disgusting thing with my hands.  GAG!

Luckily, Ladybug wanted to get her hands dirty.

 

 

Even better ... she loved them.  And I know that they are not that gross and disgusting processed chicken.

Mean Mama

bugs bugs bugs

When my niece was born my parents each spent a week at my sister's house.  My mom went first.  She came back telling stories of how truly gross her house was.  My mom is a very clean person.  She is not OCD.  She has one cat and one dog.  She is single.  She gets to have as clean of a house as she wants.  Clutter free.  My sister is not clutter free.  She is a pack rat -- I think that is the nice way of putting it.  My mom spent the week cleaning.  Because my sister was in the hospital.  Then my father went.  He didn't clean much but he came back with the same stories.  And this was after my mom had already spent cleaning for a week.  Then my step mom spent a week.  And she told the same stories. 

I have never been to my sister's house.  We have a complicated relationship.  We have a hard time getting along.  But I believed the stories.  They described stories of things piled high around the rooms with pathways from one place to the next.  A pathway from the bed to the dresser.  A pathway from the couch to the door.  We have many family conversations about if this was the right environment to raise a child.  But in the end, we did nothing.  Well, I did nothing.  My parents continued to talk to my sister.  Encourage her to clean.  Purge.  Change her ways.

When my niece was about 2 years old my parents took a trip to my sister's house again.  This time they refused to stay at her house.  They said there were cock roaches all over her house.  A few weeks later my mom took a trip to her house.  She came back with the same stories.  She said that after the first few hours she refused to be in my sister's house.  She went to a hotel.  She said she saw at least a couple hundred cock roaches. The family conversations started again.  My sister listened.  She cleaned her house.  She fixed her house.  She fumigated her house.  No more cock roaches.  She promised.  My mom explained to her the health worries.  The general ones and then added that my niece has asthma.  So for my niece my sister cleaned up her life.

For this Thanksgiving everyone came to my house.  I wasn't worried about the bugs.  There was no need.  It has been nearly 2 years.  There is no way I had anything to worry about.  But on the first night, as I moved her suitcase aside to get into my coat closet, I saw 2 teenage cock roaches hop out of her suitcase and scramble into my closet. 

No.

No.

NO!

I just got rid of all mine.  I worked so hard. I hate bugs.  I don't want cock roaches in my house. 

Now that she is gone I have located and killed 2 cock roaches.  And I am waiting for more to appear.  I can not live with cock roaches.  I will not live with cock roaches.

Mean Mama

sleeping arrangements

My house is plenty big.  Okay, townhouse.  I watch a ton of HGTV.  Sometimes I am amazed at the "required" list of some people who are looking for a house.  A young couple no kids must have 4 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, 2500 square feet, large kitchen, large back yard...etc.

My townhouse is about 900 square feet.  Two bedrooms and 2.5 bathrooms.  When I was cleaning last week I discovered 2.5 bathrooms is too many.  Who wants to clean that many on a regular basis?  The half bathroom is downstairs and the 2 others are upstairs.  It is nice not sharing a bathroom with Ladybug.  She is not the neatest child.  On the other hand since I am not inspecting or using her bathroom on a regular basis it gets really bad without me noticing.  Two bedrooms is necessary... no matter what Ladybug may say or think. 

She needs her own room.   And she goes to bed in it every night.  And yet she wakes up in my bed every morning.  EVERY. MORNING.  Why?  Well, I might have discovered why.

Over the holiday weekend I had to do a little shuffling.  I gave up my bed.  My beloved bed.  No really.  I love my bed.  It was the first real piece of furniture I bought for myself.  An oak sleigh bed.  Queen.  And I bought a fabulous mattress.  Hard.  Apparently I like it hard.  But I gave it up.  I let my parents have my bed over the weekend.   I heard my father crawl into my bed and say to my step mom, "This water bed is hard."  They sleep on a water bed so it must have felt hard to them.  But if they can't appreciate my bed I will gladly take it back.

My sister and niece slept in the living room on the futon.  She is a morning person.  I am not.  At. All.  I think it is silly to get up at the crack of dawn and start drinking coffee.  Why not just sleep later.  No coffee necessary.  But since she was sleeping in the living room that meant that we all had to go to bed early.  Which I guess is not a bad idea -- especially since I was EXHAUSTED by the end of the weekend. 

I moved into Ladybug's room.  She slept on the floor in my room so she could be close to my parents.  A few years ago I bought an Ikea bed off craigslist for her.  I had heard good things about Ikea.  Everybody loves the.  I think the bed is kind of ugly.  But it worked.  This weekend was my first time to sleep on it.  It is NOT comfortable.  At all.  I now know why she crawls in bed with me.  Every night.  I would too if I slept on it every night.  I barely slept all night.  The mattress is too thin.  I tossed.  I turned.  I flipped.  I did not sleep. 

The second night I found a few extra pillows ( I only had one the night before and I normally sleep with 4 -- just for me).  That helped.  Turns out I am a pillow girl.  And now I am just happy to have my bed back.  I LOVE my bed.  Really.

Mean Mama

failing

I have failed. Miserably. I did not get back down to 265 before Thanksgiving. And the holiday food did not help. It actually hurt. So Project Hopeful is about to get some more money I did not plan on.

I am back up to 270. BLECH!!!! 23.8 pounds this year. BLECH!!!!

When I finished the last round at the end of October I felt good about myself. I liked the way things fit. I liked that I fit comfortably into all my winter clothes. I am planning a trip to the mountains over Christmas so I want to feel comfortable. Without needing to buy any clothes. I wore all the clothes last year too. But they were tight. And uncomfortable.

This weekend my step mom took Ladybug and I to the store to find a dress of Ladybug for her birthday. We picked out a few good options and proceeded to the dressing room. Big mistake. The lighting! The mirrors! My fat self! Not a good combination. As I sat on the stool helping Ladybug in and out of the dresses I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The image did not help my self image.

It is no wonder that nobody has noticed my weight loss. Not my sister -- who is also trying to loose weight. Not my step mom -- who is very weight focused. Not my dad -- who for the first time is having his own weight issue. Not my co-workers (okay one has noticed -- and that was really nice to hear). What people know is that I am fat. And they are right.

So tomorrow I start one more round of starvation dieting. Starting tomorrow. Ending on December 21. Leaving for the holidays on December 22.  The goal is .... well.  I am hoping for 15 pounds.  Will be happy with 10 pounds.  I can do this.

I can do this.

I can do this.

Please let me be able to do this.

Mean Mama 
PS - 23.8 down and 120 to go.

Truth Pandemic

Get the truth. Know the truth. Spread the truth.

Scary moments

The weekend before Thanksgiving I was in a cleaning frenzy. I vividly remember that anytime my grandparents would visit my house my parents would make us clean. And as a result I would always tell them that there was no way I was going to clean my house for them when they came to visit me. Take me or leave me.

But it turns out that I don't clean enough. So I cleaned. A lot. Could you eat off the floor? No. But you would be willing to walk barefoot over it.

While I cleaned, Ladybug was allowed to play outside. I left the front door open. I gave her instructions. I checked on her at least every 2 minutes. Which made cleaning more difficult. I would look for her. Verify that she wasn't doing anything wrong and go back to cleaning.

And then I poked my head out of the door and saw... nothing. Nothing. No kids. Where was she? I called her name. Nothing. I called louder. Nothing. My heart began to race. I slipped on my clogs. and walked down the street. Nothing. I got to the end of the street and found a group of kids. I asked if they had seen her. No. Really!!??? Where was she. I looked in the back yard. Nothing.

Panic is really starting to set in. I am having images. Where is she? Is she hurt? Did she get snatched. I am racing back toward my place so I can get my cell phone. I am seriously thinking of calling the police. How do you call the police and tell them that I have lost my child? Just let her be safe.

And as I panicked I remembered what happened 24 hours earlier. She had gone into another kid's house without telling me. Another child playing outside saw this and told me. So I went and got her. I then had the conversation about how that was not allowed. I must know where she is. AT ALL TIMES! She would not be back in a house without permission within 24 hours. Would she?

So I started knocking on doors. And she actually answered the door. She answered the door. And my panic changed from panic to rage in .3 seconds flat. I told her to get home.

The girl had the nerve to look at me and say ... "I don't want to."

You don't WHAT????

I am thankful she is okay. I am thankful I found her without calling the police. I am thankful she is not hurt. But if she thinks she is going to get even 10 seconds of unsupervised time outside of her bedroom anytime soon she is crazy.

I am NOT going through that again.

Mean Mama

Ethiopian Food

Feeding my child healthy food is nearly impossible these days. If it is not a hamburger, pizza, or chocolate she is not interested. Some days she would rather go hungry then eat what I serve. But if I cook Ethiopian food she will eat... and eat... and eat. The girl loves her some Ethiopian food.

The first time I made Ethiopian food I planned it out for weeks. Then the first weekend I made the Ethiopian butter. Everything tastes better made with Ethiopian butter. It took all weekend. Seriously. I just remember thinking cooking was a full time job in Ethiopia. I was never going to be good at it.

This time I made the butter on Saturday night in preparation for the feast on Wednesday. It took 2 hours to complete the process. And I was tipsy on good wine while I did. The smells wafted through the house and I was happy on wine.

And then on Wednesday I threw together my Ethiopian feast. Which not only was enjoyed by all -- but now I have a freezer full of quick, easy microwaveable meals. Fast food that is healthy -- that she will eat.




Mean Mama

Family tree

A few weeks ago Ladybug stated she wanted to make a family tree. I asked her what she meant (just in case I didn't understand) and she told me exactly what I was thinking.

And then I had a (small) burst of creativity. Wouldn't it be nice to have a family tree that actually looks like a tree? We could draw a tree. We could use real leaves. It is fall.

So after several weeks Ladybug finally harassed me enough and we created a family tree today -- just in time for Thanksgiving.



It is hanging above the kitchen table -- it has only crashed to the floor once so far.

You may notice that there is something missing from the family tree. Yep, the family. The idea is to take a picture of each family member ( just the ones coming to Thanksgiving and my brother and sister who can not make it) and paste them in the tree.

She is quite the little artist.

Mean Mama

sometimes it is scary to get what you want

Last night I put Ladybug to bed and she immediately started coughing. That wet productive body wrenching type of cough. I listened for a little while but then I got the meds. I had to wake her up and have her sit up. I don't know how she sleeps through that kind of coughing.

She went back to sleep. For a minute. She got up wanting some cuddle time. She cuddle for a few minutes and the coughing continued. Until I realized that it was getting to the point that she was likely going to puke. I was lucky enough to get her to the bathroom before she spewed. YEAH!!!!

So I settled her back in bed. Crisis averted. She cuddled under the blankets. And promptly puked all over her pillow which dribbled down onto her sheets and blanket. Of course. Sheets changed and back in bed for the night.

I silently told said to myself -- please let her sleep through the night.

When I woke up this morning at 8am I realized I was alone in bed. I was alone all night. And it was 8am. Neither happens. Ever. I stayed in bed for a few minutes listening. To nothing. No coughing. No beds clinking. No singing. Nothing. And then my imagination got the better of me. Why? Why hadn't she crawled in bed with me? She does every night. Why wasn't she up? She never sleeps to 8am. What if something was really wrong? What if she was really ill?

So I got up and checked on her. She was sleeping. Sweetly. So I went back to bed. For about 30 seconds before she came and joined me.

Mean Mama

Any wonder why she is sick

I hopped in the shower this morning. I asked her to clean her room, get dressed and brush her teeth.

I got out of the shower. She was dressed. The room was mostly picked up. I ask her to get a trash bag because I need to get some of the trash out of my house today. I asked if she brushed her teeth. She said yes. She lies about this topic all the time. I ask to see her teeth. There is chocolate packed into her teeth. So I tell her to go back in and brush her teeth.

Chocolate? Where did she get chocolate. It is morning. I would never give her chocolate. She stole it. I need to get rid of the junk food in the house.

Go brush your teeth.

I get dressed. She is brushing her teeth. But I don't hear it. I bought her one that runs on battery and threw away her old one 2 weeks ago.

2 weeks!

I got to the bathroom. She is brushing her teeth. With the tooth brush I threw away 2 weeks ago.

That is what I get for asking her to help with the trash.

Mean Mama

Totally Wine

The holiday frenzy starts. I am having Thanksgiving at my house. In a moment of weakness I made the offer. My first. Well, with family. I have had several with friends.

One of the things that I had to do was buy wine. I don't drink much. I once had to take a lie detector test for a job. They go over the questions with you prior to administering the test. They don't want to register a surprise. They want to register an untruth. When it got to drinking habits he laughed at me. He asked me to categorize my drinking habits. Alcoholic? Heavy drinker? Social drinker? Non drinker? I told him I was a social drinker. He asked me to define social drinker. 3-4 drinks per month? 3-4 drinks per week? 3-4 drinks per day? I told him maybe 6 drinks per year. He laughed. I mean roll on the floor, tears rolling down his cheeks laughing. Once he calmed down he explained that would make me a non-drinker.

I hate beer. Hate. All. Can't even pretend to choke down the stuff. I have tried wines. And people laugh at me about that too. I like sweet wines. Ridiculously sweet. Grape juice with alcohol. Not very sophisticated. But it is what I like. I also love sweet drinks. But for the holiday dinner I need wine. So I headed out to the wine store. With a list.

I need a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc or Pinot Grigio for my step mom. I need a bottle of Cabernet or Malbec for my dad. I can do that. So I go to the wine store. Not a liquor store. Not a grocery store. A wine store. There is a whole aisle devoted to each of those types of wines. A whole aisle. For each. Luckily each one has a description of the taste. Unfortunately that means nothing to me. Do I want oak or citrus or... I don't know.

And apparently I look like I don't know. Because not one but 2 sales people come at me offering help. One backs off and the other one helps me. He is preppy and peppy. I think he needs some of the wine he sells. But he is also 12. NO! I swear. Okay, maybe 13. He definitely hasn't started shaving yet. I am so old. I am taking alcohol advice from a 12 year old. But I swallow my pride and listen to him. He finds me a Sauvignon Blanc and a Malbec. You will have to wait a week to see if they are any good.

I then decide that I need a bottle of wine for myself too. I can at least play sophisticated for a day. So I tell him I need a ridiculously sweet wine. He takes me back to the tasting station. Who knew! I can have samples of wine before I make a decision. He pours a red. I taste. It is good. He drinks it too. Maybe he isn't 12? He pours me a second wine. White. Oh my!! Talk about ridiculously sweet. It is like drinking syrup. It is good. But a little too sweet. Even for me. I opt for wine number..... 1.

And right before I leave my preteen wine genius I remember that my bottle opener is in storage...at my mom's...700 miles away. So I ask my boy genius where I can find a bottle opener that does not require a college degree to use. I figure he must know that since he is 12. He hands me one and tells me... "I have been using this one since I was 11." No joke. Direct quote. Must be good. He has been using it for an entire year. So I bought it.

One holiday errand done -- too many to count left to do.

Mean Mama

My first child

I know I am a single mom of an only child. But Ladybug wasn't my first child.

When I was in college I decided to major in social work. When I did my internship I immediately picked a group home for teenagers. No hesitation. I could not have been more excited.

It was TERRIBLE! I hated it. I dreaded every single moment I had to be there. Until I quit. I couldn't believe how wrong I had been. And I was left with wondering what to do with my life.

About 6 years after graduating from college a friend of mine (who is no longer my friend -- but that is another story) came to me glowing about her job. She loved it. She worked for a group home for teenage boys. Juvenile delinquents. Sex offenders. Drug users. Aggressive and violent. And she told me I had to apply for a job there. I had to. I didn't want to. I could not go back to doing that work. Six years was not enough time to make me forget how miserable I was during my internship. She convinced me that I had to go for an interview. I could do that. It didn't mean I needed to take the job.

But I took the job. And I loved it. I loved going to work. I looked forward to talking with the boys. I felt competent. I had a purpose back. It was like I had found where I was suppose to be.

There was a 15 year old boy in my unit. He was quiet and shy. He rarely talked. He was tall and gangly. He made friends with the other boys. He did what he needed to do to work the program. He didn't make waves. He didn't get attached to the staff. But he decided he liked me. I didn't know this was significant because I was new. The other staff understood. Maybe I was the person who was going to get through to him.

He became my first child. I fell in love. And I do not mean that inappropriately. We developed a tight bond. Parental. He blossomed. He came out of his shell. It turned out he was a really funny kid. He got a job. He did well in school. He committed to his therapy. I could not have loved that kid more if he had actually been my child.

In the year and half I worked with him I met his parents twice. I took him home for a visit. For an hour. And his parents stopped by the unit once for about 20 minutes. I was really his only parent. They didn't call him. They didn't visit. They didn't know him. I didn't know his parents. I know he was in the unit because of his actions. But he was such a fabulous kid that I didn't understand how they stayed away.

Eventually all of the staff and treatment team decided he was ready to move into independent living. He was ready to graduate from the program. I disagreed. He was doing great. But he was young. He had come a long way but it didn't mean he was ready to fly the coop. The team disagreed with me. I knew him better. But it didn't matter. He was going to move on. And it was my job to make him believe he could do it. I never told him he wasn't ready. I never told him I was scared for him. I never let him see my doubt that the team was wrong. I encouraged him. I told him he was ready. And I let him go.

For a year he called me. For a year he leaned on me. For a year I continued to do my job with this kid. I was right. The team was wrong. But I would not let him fail. He stumbled. He failed. He struggled. And each phone call I helped him figure out how to pick himself up. For a year I watched him question himself. For a year I watched my boy slip. And at about a year after leaving the program, he got it. He got stronger. He made better decisions. He made life work for him. And I lost him. He left his new program. I left my job. My boy had grown up and left me. Because it was what was right for him. But I still loved him.

Now I silently stalk him on facebook. He doesn't know it. He joined the military. He married his high school sweetheart. And he recently found out he is going to be a dad. It has been 10 years since I have had contact with him. He did it. He made a success of his life. He beat the odds. And I am a proud mama. But he doesn't know it.

Mean Mama

Pity me

Will you please take pity on me? I am a single woman. With an only child. Who sits at a computer desk all day. Dealing with clients whose lives are falling apart. I have no social life. I need a change.

When you visit my blog -- and I know at least one or two people are -- will you leave me a comment so I know that I am not alone?

Fix my problems.

Laugh at me.

Commiserate.

Ask me questions.

Give me blog ideas.

Let me know that you are out there.

Anybody....

Bueller???

Mean Mama

Too funny

If you need a good laugh check out one of my favorite blogs. She cracks me up. She has been gagged on certain topics but you can still read the adventures she has not been gagged for.

Snarky Mom


I really like her most recent blog.

Mean Mama

Murphy's Law

I pulled up to Ladybug's after school program today with my fingers crossed. Please please please let her have had a good day. I know it is not good that I get emotionally involved with her behaviors. But she has had a few hard weeks and I want it to be better. Please

And it was! 11 out of 11 points. Yes, that means she is back on the other chart. But it works. I know most parents want their children off the bad behavioral chart. I want her on it -- she does better on it. And she is happy to see me.

The school is having another fundraiser. This time it is at our favorite pizza place. And it is healthy pizza. If she was good today I was willing to forgo cooking dinner (HA!) and go out for pizza. So we drive across town and get pizza. We apparently go here a little too often because all the waitresses say hello to Ladybug and notice that she has a new hairstyle this week.

She starts to get a little frantic. She is shoveling pizza in. She can't sit still. She is touching everything -- with her greasy, dirty hands. She is picking her food apart. She is talking and not listening. I am just hoping she holds it together long enough to get home.

We leave the pizza joint and we are crossing the parking lot heading to our car. She is singing and dancing. And I am vividly aware that the car parked next to ours is about to back up. I start talking to her. Asking her to wait. Asking her to stop. She is ignoring me. I know she won't listen and I reach out for her to stop her but she is a little to far away from me and I can only grab her hoodie and yank her back to me. At which point she spins on me with all the attitude she can possibly muster and yells at me to stop. I yell right back as I am pointing at the mini van that has now backed out and would have hit her. But she doesn't back down. She yells that I could have just told her. And I lose it. I did! She didn't listen. She would have been hit. Now get in the car.

She gets in and buckles up and promptly falls asleep. I know she is tired. She has been sleeping like crap this week. But I know she has fallen asleep because she is shutting down because I yelled. But I use the ride home to calm down. We are about 3 minutes from home when she starts coughing in her sleep. She has been fighting a cold for a couple of weeks. Not really sick but coughing in her sleep. She has grabbed my shawl and is holding it up to her face as she coughs. I tell her not to hold it in. Cough -- clear it out.

I pull into our parking lot as she coughs into my shawl. I turn and look. Oooooh! I know that look. Nooooo! Don't throw up. Not into my shawl. NO!

She does. Of course.

I park. I tell her not to move. I unlock the front door. I unlatch the car seat. When I had an older car unhooking the car seat was easy. One button. Now that I have a newer car it is more complicated. I have to crawl into the hatch back and dig under the bedding to unhook it. Then I have to crawl into the back seat and unhook it. It is safer. But not nearly as easy at the end of a hard day in the dark to deal with.

It is all unhooked. But I don't want her to stand up and walk out of the car. I don't want puke all over the car. I don't want to clear the car. I don't even want to clean the car seat. So I make the decision to remove the now unlatched car seat from the car with her still in it. I mean, how difficult could it be? To remove a large car seat with a 56 pound child covered with puke from the back seat without hurting the child or getting puke on me. Sometimes I hate being single.

But I managed to do it. Not gracefully. Then she unbuckles herself. Of course she has puked right down the front -- covering the buckles. She wants me to do it. I don't want to do it. She does it. Yeah, I know ... Mean Mama. I drag the car seat to the front door and leave it outside. I let her jut inside the front door. Standing on the linoleum. I ask her to strip. She starts to. But she starts to follow me. Dripping puke on the carpet. I walk her back to the front door. She strips. I send her upstairs to shower. I start grabbing the pukey clothes and taking them to washer.

She is in the shower singing and giggling. I am outside trying to yank the cloth off the car seat. It requires that I take the whole seat apart. I am trying to do this without getting puke on me. I get puke on me. It starts to rain. Of course. The good news is that it will wash away the trail of puke from the car to the front door. She sounds happy. I am not.

I get the cloth in the washer. Now I must wash the car seat. But I don't want to do it outside. It is raining. So I decide to put down my down blanket on the carpet and place the car seat on it. It can be washed. And I have been thinking it needs to be washed. Really. It could use a washing. I try not to breathe too deeply. The smell of pizza, doritos, and stomach acid is not good. Luckily most of the puke is on the cloth part of the car seat. Which is in the washer.

When the washer is done I realize that one piece of the car seat had too many folds in it to get really clean. So I send it back through the wash. With the blanket. At the end of the cycle I pull it out. The 2 have tangle into each other. Probably because of the hooks in the car seat. I untwist. I rotate. It is not coming free. They are now one. So I get the scissors. And cut my blanket. I need the car seat parts.

I am waiting for the parts to finish drying and then I would put it back together. And then tomorrow morning I get the joy of latching the car seat back into the car. And I am not a morning person. I just hope the car doesn't smell like puke in the morning.

Mean Mama
PS. I should add that the blanket shed all over the cloth car seat parts and I had to use a lint roller on it before putting them together. Luckily I had a lint roller. And I could find it. Unfortunately I apparently had the bright idea of storing the sticky lint roller in a plastic bag.

Frustration

I would just like to express a moment of frustration.

Back in August I had an interview. Of a job I wanted. And for the most part I would be good at. There are parts of the job that I would need to learn. I have my worries about the job. But I can deal with them. I also realize that since I am hoping to be moving into a small town that my job options are limited.

The interview went well. I hate phone interviews. I mean, I have a lot of experience working on phones and I can get the information I need over the phone. But so much of communication is non verbal. I like seeing people. The little facial expressions. The twinkle in the eye. The nod. It helps me read the person. But without all that I still felt like the interview went well.

In September I got an email from the HR department saying that I had been selected for a second interview. See, I was right. The interview went well. I was excited. They said the second interview would be another phone interview and that they would be scheduling soon.

In October I began to get worried. I still had not heard anything and I was beginning to get worried. So I took the bold move and contacted HR again and asked for a status update on the interview process. I got a very nice email back saying that they had just met with the board the day before and were beginning to start the process for scheduling the second interviews. So I relaxed. And waited.

It is now November. NOVEMBER! Still no word. No interview. Nothing scheduled. Nothing. I know they haven't hired anybody. Yet. But it raises questions. My options for employment are limited. But all they need to do is schedule a telephone interview. And that has taken about 3 months. Maybe they aren't sure they want to hire? Maybe they are having budget issues? Maybe they just operate slowly?

I just want a new job. So I can move. Start fresh. Buy a house. Change my life. But I guess that is not their focus. It is mine.

Mean Mama

795 pounds!

No not me! I am down to 267.8. I had hoped to be down to 265 (again) by Thanksgiving. That is only 1.5 weeks away. Time is flying. I don't think I will be there by then. But I will keep my fingers crossed.

A few weeks ago I got sucked into a show on Discovery Health about a man who weighed 795 pounds. It followed him in preparation for his weight loss surgery. The show ended just weeks before his surgery. He had spent about 6 weeks in the hospital waiting for his surgery and he lost about 60 pounds prior to his surgery. I was so sucked into the show that I stayed up way past my bedtime -- not that that is rare. I wanted to know what happened. Actually -- to be honest -- I wanted to know that he succeeded. I wanted to know he lost a ton of weight and made a difference in his life. But it just ended. I have no idea what happened. I tried researching on the internet but I have had no luck.

There are days when I don't understand. I mean how do you get that big? And then I realize that there must be people who look at me and wonder the same thing. And then there are other days when I realize I could just keep eating and get to that size in no time at all. I do realize that is not a good option.

Once I hit 265 again I promise to update with body measurements.

Mean Mama

Drawn from water

When I first adopted Ladybug I decided to make the commitment to do something charitable in Ethiopia each year. The first year I helped a preschool to raise money for the orphanage Ladybug stayed in before her adoption. Since then I have sponsored a child in Ethiopia to attend school. I pay her tuition.

I continually look for other options to support. And I read a lot of blogs -- not something I had planned on. So as a result I have learned about some things that I otherwise would not have heard about. A few years ago I heard about the Mingi. Please visit this website to learn more .... http://www.drawnfromwater.org/

I would never have thought that this mentality exists before learning about it. I am so impressed with the people who read and learn and then get involved. These people make a difference in lives. The least we can do is read and learn. And maybe someone will also get involved.

Mean Mama

You don't have to tell me

That is one of the most commonly used phrases in our house these days.

It is not that I am trying to micromanage her. It is that I hate mornings. I get up when I have to. I don't get up an hour early to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee before Ladybug gets up. Partly this is because I hate coffee. I mean really hate coffee. Not regular coffee. Not flavored coffee. Not even ice cream coffee. I actually worried about my trip to Ethiopia because I didn't want to do anything offensive but I knew I would never make it through a coffee ceremony. Luckily I was never faced with a coffee ceremony while I was there. The other part is that Ladybug gets up so early. I would have to get up at 4am in order to beat her. And that is so not happening.

Ladybug gets up early. She has learned to stay in her room and play. Well, unless she has crawled into my bed for cuddle time. When I get up -- after hitting the snooze several times each morning -- we begin the day.

Please go potty, brush your teeth and get dressed.
Please pick up your room.
Please pack your backpack.
Please get your shoes on.
Please find a jacket.
Please get a wipey and clean your face.
Please get in the car.
Please buckle up.

Incidentally, "please" is Ladybug's least favorite word and actively refuses to use it.

Recently she looked at me one morning and said...

I know. I know.

Completely exasperated. I know she knows. She knows that I know she knows. And yet she doesn't do it.

Why? If she knows (and she does) why not do it? It is not like our morning routine changes. It is very routine. If she has to do the same thing every morning why not do it every morning? Why does she wait until I tell her before she does it?

So I stopped telling her. And then she complained that I didn't tell her what to do.

Ladybug 1
Mean Mama 0

Mean Mama

raised by an atheist

I have been mulling this post over for a while. I fear that it could be offensive to some. Please understand it is not intended to be offensive. It is just a reality.

I was born into a Presbyterian home. I have no idea what that means. I was removed from that home when I was 5 years old. I don't ever remember going to church. I don't remember a religious upbringing. I spent 1 year in a foster home where the parents were Baptist. They had me baptized while I was with them. They got in trouble for that. My understanding is that they believed they were saving my soul. But you are not allowed to change the religion of a foster child.

Eventually I was placed in my adoptive family. The religious aspects of my life did not get easier.

My Maternal Grandmother was raised Catholic but converted to the Episcopal church as an adult when she married my grandfather. My mother was raised Episcopal. Not really religious but they were church goers. And believers. During my childhood my Grandmother insisted on 2 religious things. We had to go to Christmas Eve service and we must celebrate Jesus' birthday after the service with a birthday cake. I went to the Christmas Eve service and tried to stay awake. But that birthday cake was a different issue. It is a raisin, date, carrot type thing with a heavy cream cheese type icing. I hated it. But I ate it every year -- until recently.

My Paternal side of the family is Jewish. My cousins all had Bar Mitzvahs. They attended the temple on a regular basis. The weddings are traditional Jewish weddings and my Grandmother's funeral was performed by a Rabbi. They lived in a community that was largely Jewish and all of their friends were Jewish.

When my parents married -- which was short lived -- they decided that the kids would be raised Jewish. We started attending temple soon after we moved in with them. But I wasn't buying it. And I was 7. And I was a trouble maker (any idea where Ladybug gets it from?). After about 1 year my parent's marriage was in serious trouble and I started refusing to go to Temple. We celebrated Passover and Easter. We celebrated Christmas and Hanukkah. We lit the Sabbath candles every Friday night and I learned the prayer in Hebrew.

But I wasn't buying it. Any of it. All of my family is a believer. In something. I wasn't. I tried. I struggled to believe. But I didn't. I just didn't. Sometime in my teen years I started to identify myself as an agnostic. My parents did not push religions. And they did not really teach religion either. But I am not sure it would have made a difference. There are several times in my life that I wanted to believe but ultimately I did not. Eventually I began to identify myself as an atheist. Many friends have told me they know I believe even if I don't know it.

When I decided to adopt I did worry if this would become an issue. Briefly. But what I did notice as I entered the world of adoptive parents is how many of them are religious. I had never been surrounded by so many people where religion was such a focus in their lives. Even in reading blogs so many of them focus on God and Jesus and their belief. The religion varies but so many of them talk about religion on a regular basis.

When I received Ladybug's referral her religion was listed as Orthodox Christian. This is a common religion in Ethiopia. I worried. Really. She was not going to get a religious upbringing with me. I was not going to start doing nightly prayers or going to church. I had no intention of raising her to be an atheist but how can an atheist teach religion?

About a year ago my mom started attending a church on a regular basis. She asked if she could take Ladybug with her. Sure. I was fine with that. I got Sunday mornings to myself and Ladybug liked it. She liked Sunday school. She liked church. She came home raving about what she learned. I listened. I encouraged. It was hard. Because I don't believe. But it became obvious that she was enjoying it. But when my moved away. So did church. I can not go. I just can't. When we move closer to my mom again she can go with her again. I have no investment in raising her to be an atheist.

This year I enrolled Ladybug in the YMCA after school program. I know there is a religious aspect to the program. But I also know it is a good program. And it was in my budget. She has earned her first bandanna -- purple, which is faith in God. That is the first thing she has learned?

About a month ago I was putting her to bed. I crawled in bed with her to read a book. I looked over at her. She had her eyes closed and and was mumbling to herself. I asked her what she was doing. "Praying." That's what I thought.

A few weeks ago I was talking to Ladybug. She told me about her dream the night before so I told her about mine. Unfortunately mine had been a dream where someone had taken Ladybug away from me. When I told her she just looked at me and said...

Ladybug: God would never let that happen.
Me: Really?
Ladybug: No.
Me: How do you know? Do you talk to him?
Ladybug: Of course. And God told me you were meant to be my mama.
Me: God talks to you?
Ladybug: Of course.

So I may not be a believer but she certainly is. I guess it is possible to be raised by an atheist and still believe.

Mean Mama