end of another month

I really need to have a shorter new years resolution list.

1.  Lose 123 50 pounds.  Progress!  In the right direction this time. 
2.  Read at least 1 book a month.  At least one of them must be a self help book but not all can be self help.  Jackdaws by Ken Follett.  I love Ken Follett.  A little gruesome but worth it.
3.  Write the next great American novel a short story.  I am having a hard enough time writing the necessary legal documents I am required to write for my job.
4.  Find a new job.  Nothing!  Seriously.  Expanded my search area.  Five states.  And nothing.  
5.  Move.  Still on square one on this one.
6.  Buy my first home.  Again, this one has to wait until 4 & 5 are done.
7.  Pay off all credit cards FIA credit card.  On July 6th I will be writing a check to pay off the balance.  And my school loan and my car loan and my other credit cards.  Seriously.  Debt free is one week.
8.  Make at least one pair of earrings a week.  Removed.
9.  Get at least 8 hours of sleep at least 4 times per week.  Not so successful on this one. 
10. Blog at least 15 times per month.  Another successful month.  At least I have one thing I am successful at.
11.  Get child enrolled in a sport. Summer camp.  She has access to swimming, basketball, tennis, soccer, archery, running, etc.  She opts for swimming and fossil hunting.  I try.  We did start walking but then I got shin splints.  I will be walking soon again.
12.  Get involved with a charity. Done.
13.  Refinish the new kitchen table.  Haven't started yet.  But I want to.
14.  Enroll in a creative class -- writing, jewelry making, pottery...  Removed.
15.  Start a 529 account.  I will open this account in September.  Seriously.
16.  Clean the house once a month.  Did good.  But my child has decided to wreck her room every single day.  And then she is stunned when I ask her to clean it.
17.  Eat out no more then 2 times per month.  I have no idea.  But I will guess that I failed.
18.  Call my friends and family more often -- rely on the internet less.  Removed -- because it is too simple.
19.  Start training for the Boston Marathon.  I know this seems out of the blue for most but it has been a long term dream of mine.  Started.  But had to stop.  Will start again soon.  I promise.
20.  Fold and put away the laundry within 24 hours of washing it each week.  Removed.  And I refuse to feel bad about my complete inability to do this.
21.  Buy a new camera and take more photos of Ladybug.  I promise to be better next month.
22.  Pay all bills on time. Terrible.  Really.  I think the only one paid on time this month was rent.
23.  Become caffeine free.  Overall good on this one.  I mean, I had some sodas but not because I was trying to pour caffeine into my body (most days).

So some success and some failure.  Check in again next month.

Mean Mama

seeing the future

Yesterday was the 5 year anniversary of being woken up in the middle of the night by my agency to let me know that I had a referral -- they were so excited that they could not wait for morning to tell me.

A few nights before I got my referral I had a dream.  I had a dream that I received my referral of a little girl from Ethiopia (unlike previous dreams where I would get a referral of a blond girl from Hawaii -- hey, dreams don't always make sense).  She was a beautiful little girl named Magdalina.

I woke up and ran to my computer.  I pulled up a map of Ethiopia. For some reason I knew it would tell me something.  I looked at the map.  I was drawn to the north part of Ethiopia.  And I knew that meant my daughter was from the north.  I have a dream about a girl named Magdalina and that means my child is from the north???  Doesn't make sense.  And on top of it, none of the children my agency had referred up to that point was from the north part of Ethiopia.  But I was sure of it.  And the dream stuck with me.

Soon after getting my referral (because it came in bits and pieces) I found out that my daughter was from Gondar -- the north part of Ethiopia.  Her name, however, was not Magdalina.

After Ladybug had been home from about a year or so I decided to search for more information on her.  I found that she was taken to a orphanage in Gondar before she was transferred to the orphanage in Addis Ababa.  Upon further research of the orphanage in Gondar, I discovered that the woman who ran the program was named Magdalina.

Sometimes our dreams can tell us things, if we know how to listen to them.

Mean Mama

Weight update

Just a quick update (in an effort to avoid doing any real work) about the weight progress.

I admit...I did not keep my food diary.  I did not count every Weight Watcher point.  I knew I could be doing better.  I did not exercise.  All this put together was a recipe (yes, another reference to food) for disaster.

So as of last night, I was down... yes I said DOWN ... another .4 of a pound.

That is not the impressive 3.8 I lost the week before.  But given my effort (mentioned above) I am happy.  I am back on track this morning.  I am a good girl.  The program works -- but only if you follow it. 

So I will keep my food diary.  I will count every Weight Watcher point.  I will do better.  I will exercise.

Oh, and, I will go on vacation to my parents house where they eat like little birds and think they are stuffing themselves.

Hoping for better committment and more progress next week.

Mean Mama

I am

I am a good employee. 

Okay, I understand that I am known as the "oppositional" employee in the office.  I question things.  I debate things.  I am nobody's "yes" woman.  But I also understand that I am not the boss.  I will always do what I am told in the end. 

I am at work when I should be.  I leave work when I should.  I am professional in my attitude -- at least in dealing with clients.  I work.  It gets done.

I have been working full time for 20 years.  I had part time jobs for 6 years before that.  I have been many things...staff, supervisor, boss.  I get it.  I know what needs to be done and I do it. 

So stop treating me like a kid!  I am older than you.  I have more work experience than you.  I worked my way up at jobs I worked to get -- I did not get handed my first job as a boss from my daddy.  Heck, I am even in the office more than you.  I do not need to be micromanaged.  I do not need to be reprimanded.  Work WITH me.

And, Honey, if you want to get passive aggressive please remember that I have years more experience than you do at it. 

Okay, back to work...just needed to vent and keep my job at the same time.

Mean Mama

I want

I want a house.  I am 40+ year old professional single mother.  I am well educated.  How do I not own a home yet?  I have friends who keep telling me it is better to rent.  I don't believe them.  I give a bunch of money to some stranger every month and they put it away as their investment.  And I have nothing at the end of it.  I want to own.  I want a place that feels permanent.  I want to own a house. 

Just not here.

I have been looking at the housing market in 5 states now.  I want to live in one of those 5 states.  I prefer 1 state, feel good about 2 other states, and have family in the remaining 2 states.  All are neighboring states.  I want to buy there. 

I found a cute little historic house in one town.  The back yard is a brick patio with a little patch of dirt.  No mowing for me but a little dirt for Ladybug to create a little garden.  I would paint the kitchen and change the hardware.  The red stairs would need some serious work.  But it could be a home.

I found a condo in a town I use to live in.  I love that town.  No seriously, you have no idea.  I LOVE that town.  I don't understand why I left.  What was I thinking?  I could live with a condo -- again, no yard work. 

My favorite 2 houses in my mom's town have sold.  Sweet little places. 

Some things I have learned about my desire for a house:
I prefer old places.  I know it means work but new places just seem sterile to me.
I would like 2 bathrooms because I don't want to share one with Ladybug (seriously disgusting) but I don't like cleaning bathrooms so no need to have a lot.  Right now we have 2.5 bathrooms and that is at least .5 bathrooms too many.
I can live in about 1000 square feet.  I don't need a lot of space.  And again, it is less to clean.
I don't like galley kitchens. 
I like the open concept.  I think I would use all of my rooms more if I didn't feel cut off from them. 
I like hardwood floors.

Okay tantrum over...just hoping I can make it a reality soon.

Mean Mama

Sun protection

Some people have been discussing sunblock for their children of African descent.  Some questioned if their skin could burn.  Some talked about vitamin D.

I am of German and English descent.  I am white white white.  I do not tan.  Correction...I can not tan.  Even as a kid people would ask me if I ever got sun and then I would show them my belly (which never got sun) and they would realize I am just really really white.  I burn...and peel...and burn again.  And even though Ladybug has dark skin, I protect hers the same way I protect mine.

Ladybug started camp last week.  Being the good mama, I bought sunscreen for her.  I sprayed her down in the morning.  And then worried all day.  She was going to be outside all day.  She was going to be sweating.  She was going to be swimming.  On Tuesday she informed me that all the other kids brought their sunscreen with them.  Great!  Happy to hear.  So I packed it in her backpack and off she went. But she lost it.  Because she looses everything.  The girl can't keep track of anything.  Ever. 

On Wednesday and Thursday she went off to camp with no sunscreen.  Saturday she was getting ready to go to the pool with me.  She was wondering around naked and I could clearly see tan lines already forming on her body.  Two days of no protection and she is already tanning.  This is not good.

So this weekend I went out and bought another bottle.  I explained the importance of her using it.  I told her I was not buying more -- although I really would have -- so she could not lose it.  On Monday she came home smelling like coppertone so I knew she used it.  Same for Tuesday and Wednesday.  I was wondering why she smelled so strongly of coppertone so late in the day but decided not to complain.  I mean, she was using it.

This morning I was packing her lunch and bag and discovered the sunscreen bottle sitting on the counter.  I grabbed it to throw it in her bag.  I lifted it.  And stopped.  I shook the can.  It was empty.  EMPTY!  In three days she used an entire bottle of sunscreen.  No wonder she always smelled like coppertone.  It should have lasted weeks.  Three days!  She needs a little vitamin D.

Mean Mama

Down!

Just a quick update...and staying positive.

Tonight was my first weigh in with Weight Watchers.  I have been on the plan for 1 week.  I have read and learned and eaten.  I have cheated but always stayed within my point range.  I planned on starting to walk again this week -- after resting my shin splints.  But I didn't.  No excuses.  Just didn't.  It has been hard to get out of bed in the morning.  So I haven't fought it.

Tonight I went to my meeting.  On the way there I decided I would be happy if I was down 2 pounds.  I could deal with 2 pounds.  That is all I needed.  Oh please don't let me be disappointed with 2 pounds.  Or even better, please don't let me have lost less that 2 pounds.

So I held my breath and stepped on the scale (with happy southern belle boy reading the scale) and discovered that I was down ...3.8 pounds.  3.8!  Really.  Let me say that again.  3.8 pounds.  In one week.  While eating some ice cream (not Ben and Jerry's).  Oh please let this work for me. 

I can do better with the diet.  I can start exercising.  It is still being successful without perfection and without exercise.  I am still being successful. 

Goal for next week...2 pounds.  Really.  I can will be happy with 2 pounds.  Check in next week to see how I do.

Mean Mama

Collecting Beads

The summer camp Ladybug is attending has a "bead" reward system.  Little tiny pony beads.  The kind I use to put in her hair.  Different colors for different behaviors. 

At the end of last week she had earned .... zero beads.  As a matter of fact, I didn't even know of the reward system. 

Yesterday I picked her up and as she climbed into my car with a huge smile on her face she told me she got beads.  She gave me a quick explanation of the system. 

So yesterday she earned a yellow bead -- the bead of respect. Respect????  My child was respectful?  So respectful that she earned a bead?  "Mama, are you proud of me?"  "YES!"  And she earned the purple bead -- the bead of faith in god.  Yeah, my child (the child of an atheist) is the first child in the camp this summer to earn the purple bead. 

Today I picked her up and she had earned 2 more beads.  TWO!  Another yellow.  Another day of being respectful.  Is it too much to ask for?  And she earned a red bead -- the bead of caring.  My child?  She was respectful and caring?  "Mama, are you proud of me?"  "Absolutely!" 

She is a little upset because she hasn't yet earned the "sweetheart of the day" bead.  But I am thrilled that she has 4 beads!

Mean Mama

some things are hard to admit

As I have mentioned before, I do not like mornings.  But even given that, I can't understand how this morning happened.

I got up and went to the kitchen to make breakfast for Ladybug.  I went back upstairs and hopped in the shower while she ate.  When I was almost ready (because I tend to run around in my bra and panties while getting things ready in the morning - I know this is not an image most people want to have) I went back downstairs and started getting lunches and snacks ready for the 2 of us.  As I was running around the kitchen (barefoot) Ladybug came down to help.  She walked into the kitchen and bent down to look at the floor.

My kitchen floor is a white and tan linoleum.  Nothing fancy.  She spoke to me without taking her eyes off the floor.

Ladybug: Mama, we have a bug in the kitchen.
Mama:  What is new.

Very casual and unconcerned.  Why?  Because in the the year I have been here I have battled ants, cockroaches, centipedes, and spiders.  Another day.  Another bug.  But just for fun I went to look at the bug.

I knew instantly what it was.  Maggot!  Gross.  Really.  Just gross.  I had dealt with maggots only once before.  I went with my roommate to her boyfriend's house about 20 years ago.  I didn't like him so I didn't want to go.  As I was sitting in his apartment I kept hearing a noise.  They didn't hear it.  But I followed the noise.  Into the kitchen.  And found his juicemaker filled with maggots.  Filled.  He had no idea.  I never went back to his place.

So this morning I sat staring down at this maggot on my floor and worried.  Where there was one -- there was likely more.  So I started cleaning.  And I found more.  Scooping them up with wipies.  Did you know that maggots make a popping sound when you squeeze them?

Not to completely disgust anybody but I found hundreds.  HUNDREDS.  All over the kitchen floor.  In corners.  Under chairs.  In the laundry room.  I cleaned and cleaned until I found no more.  It was puke-worthy.  And then I went off to work.

When I came home I inspected the kitchen again.  I found 4.  Only four.  Every inch of my kitchen and laundry room have been cleaned tonight.  Every nook and cranny.  I am taking a little break.  Then I am going back in to clean again.  With bleach.

I do not know where they came from but I can promise you they are not welcome and they will not be staying a minute longer.

Mean Mama

some days are hard

Last Friday was one of those days.  I probably should have known it was going to be a hard day.  But I didn't.  We had gone to an outdoor movie the night before and we got home really late.  So she was going to be tired.  And that is never a good thing.

But I woke up late and started rushing around getting ready for work.  I did not pay attention to her.  Not in the way I needed to to understand what was going on for her.  I made her breakfast.  I showered and dressed.  I made my breakfast.  I made her lunch and snacks.  I did the dishes.  I made tea.  She got dressed.  She hadn't finished breakfast.  I threw her in the car and told her to finish it in the car.  We drove to summer camp.  She didn't eat.  I began to panic.  She was tired.  She couldn't be hungry too.  She needed to eat.  Or she would blow out of camp. 

I couldn't have her blowing out of camp.  Not that day.  There are 5 people in my office.  Two attorneys, two paralegals, and a secretary.  The secretary and the other paralegal had been on vacation all week.  I did not have the ability to miss work to go pick her up because of a blow out. 

Just eat. 

I was getting pissed.  And she just sat there.  Doing nothing.  A big bite in her mouth.  But not chewing.  Not smiling.  Not getting mad.  Nothing.  Just sitting there.  And it was getting later and later.  After half hour I gave up.

Let me define "gave up" for you.  I left the camp with Ladybug.  She was going to work with me.  She was going to be bored.  But I couldn't deal with a blow out.

She came to the office with me and sat on the phone.  She did nothing.  I gave her no entertainment.  This was not there for fun. 

But she was determined to win.  She didn't complain.  She didn't test.  She was going to sit there and wait me out.  But at about 10 she looked at me and said...

Mama, I am hungry.

And I thought...please don't let me head explode.

Then "mini" boss came in.  He is not a parent.  He has no social skills.  He is a self absorbed brat.  He asked Ladybug why she was there and she said because she refused to eat her breakfast.  Then he turned to me and asked -- in front of her -- "That is it?  You bring her to work because she refuses breakfast."  Like I hadn't been beating myself up all morning.  I was not at all sure I was doing the right thing.  I just didn't know what I should be doing.  But either way, don't question my parenting in front of my child.

At about 11 she looked at me and apologized.  I asked her what she was apologizing for.  She gave me a song and dance at the same time she was dismissive and rude to me.  I took about 30 seconds of that.  Then shut her down again.

At about 11:30 she really apologized.  She as sorry.  From head to toe.  With her words and her actions.  And then everything changed.  She turned it all around.  She tried.  All afternoon.  All day.  All weekend. 

I don't know if I did the right thing on Friday.  I don't know if there was a better way of handling things.  But something worked in her.  She told me tonight that I am the boss.  Yes.  I am the boss.

This parenting thing is all a crap shoot.

Mean Mama

The next option in weight loss

Obviously my "starvation" diet is not working for me.  I have no self discipline...or at least not what is required of that diet.  As a matter of fact I have given up hope so much that I am not only not losing weight...I am rapidly putting it back on.  Not a good thing.

Two of my friends are struggling with weight too and both of them decided to join Weight Watchers.  What?  A sensible diet?  I am way too fat for a sensible diet.  And I am poor.  I can't afford to pay money to have someone tell me I am fat.  But they convinced me that it was worth a try.  Actually they would share the information with me.  All I needed to do was buy the pointplus calculator.  So I ventured out to the Weight Watchers store last week.

Ladybug had a dinner date so I had some time to relax and get some things done.  So I headed there first.  And then I felt bad.  Go in, get a calculator, and leave.  Does that mean I am stealing?  I mean I am taking from my friends what others are paying for.  And maybe it was worth paying for.  So I asked if they had any literature I could look through to see if I could make a decision about joining.  They don't.  You join first and then they share the information.  I get it -- trade secrets.  I don't like it.  And I wasn't ready to join without the information.  So they told me I could sit through a meeting first and then make a decision.

Fine.  I stayed for the meeting.  I was early for the meeting so I waited.  Finally the meeting started.  Is was run by a happy New Jersey divorcee.  She had a kids magic wand which she waved over the member's head as she announced their successes for the week.  And as she waved the wand it would make noises.  Oh my!

There was very little said in the meeting that I did not know the answer to.  Knowing and applying are apparently 2 different things.  I am knowledgeable...I just don't like to apply it.

Then after the general member meeting was the new member meeting.  Oh that pissed me off.  It was me and 2 other people.  A mother/daughter team.  Each one weighed about 140 pounds and they were at least 5'9".  Really.  I weigh twice you and I am 5 inches shorter.  How can we both need the same program.  Here is a hint...if you can show up to a Weight Watcher's meeting wearing a mini summer dress - and looking good in it -- you don't need Weight Watchers.

But I decided to join.  Really.  In the end I thought that accountability might help me to lose weight.  If I have to step onto the scale in front of someone other than Ladybug maybe I will work hard to lose weight.  So I joined.  And got weighed for the first time.  By a very happy southern belle man. 

I walked out with enough literature to be for an entire semester long class.  I am slowly working my way through it all.  Please let this work.

Mean Mama

cleaning

On Sunday I decided to clean.  I cleaned the kitchen.  I asked Ladybug to pick up her stuff from the living room.  I cleaned the bathroom.  I begged Ladybug to pick up her stuff from the living room.  I mopped floors.  I pleaded with Ladybug to pick up her stuff from the living room.  I really wanted to vacuum the living room.  But then I sent her to bed really early and her stuff was all over the living room.

So I picked it up.  And I put it all on the stairs.  I asked Ladybug to take up at least one item when she goes upstairs.  She forgets at least 50% of the time.  I am not sure how she forgets since she has to step over it.  After 3 days -- this is still what is on the stairs waiting for the journey up the stairs.

Obviously she still has some work to do.  I noticed it as I was walking down the stairs this morning.  She had already been down and up once today.  So I turned around to ask her if she had brought something up with her.  And this is what I saw.

Obviously I have been neglecting some of my responsibilities too or I would have never let her room get in that condition.  She will be cleaning tomorrow.

Mean Mama

one step back

Today went well.

I cleaned -- because it had to be done.  She colored.  Started a journal for her summer vacation (which I was going to suggest but she thought up all on her own).  She watched a little TV.  She played dress up.  She was cooperative with photos.

Then we headed out to Target to get a few things she needed for summer camp.  She was sure she had everything she needed.  I was not so sure.  I asked her to just trust me.  She shut up but I could see the doubt written all over her face.  When we arrived I asked her to work with me in the store.  We were there to get things for her -- please cooperate.  And she did.  For the most part.  She got pissy with me when I told her we would not be going to the pool today (she lost that yesterday when she would not listen to me at the pool).  But she got over it.

The we headed out to go grocery shopping.  She danced every where -- typical.  She wanted anything that is junk food -- typical.  She wanted to go stare at the cakes -- typical.  She sang along with the radio playing on the loud speaker -- then got stuck on a song -- annoying.  But overall it was one of our best food shopping trips in a long while.

We were driving home.  We were almost home.  When this conversation happened:

Ladybug: You know Mom, I don't really care about you. (said deadpan and serious)
Mama: (ignore -- do not engage)
Ladybug: Mom, I don't love you.
Mama: (keep ignoring -- do not engage)
Ladybug: I just want you to know that I do not care for you.
Mama: How do you want me to react to that?
Ladybug: I don't care if you react.
Mama: So what should I say?
Ladybug: I don't care.
Mama: (by this time we have arrive home) Well I am going to put the food away and I think maybe you need to think about what you are hoping for by saying that.

She sits down at the kitchen table as I put away the food.  When I am almost done, I continue the conversation.

Mama: So have you thought about it?
Ladybug: What?
Mama: What were you hoping for when you said that?
Ladybug: It was an accident.  I didn't mean to say it.
Mama: You can not accidentally say something 3 times.  You said it.  You meant it.  It was not an accident.
Ladybug: If that is what you want to believe.
Mama: Go to bed.

I didn't care that it was only 6pm.  I didn't care that she hadn't had dinner.  She didn't fight it.  She just went.  And stayed.  It is nearly 4 hours later.  She is asleep.  I have a feeling she was asleep soon after she got to her room.

It makes me scared for tomorrow.  She starts summer camp tomorrow.  She might blow out.  But the other 2 women in my office are on vacation all week.  I have no ability to leave the office during the day.  I must stay in the office.  I hope she doesn't blow out.  Please don't let her blow out. 

I guess that depends how I handle the morning.

Mean Mama

braids or locs

I finished her micro braids yesterday.  I didn't actually do much during the week.  There is just not enough time in the day to work and do braids.  But she was beginning to look a little funny.  She had 10 of the 12 sections done and the other 2 sections were in bantu knots.  Which made her look like she had 2 horns growing out of the front of her head.  Not at all attractive but she didn't seem to care.

So here is the final product.

The good news is that she loves it.  The bad news is that she has not bought into the idea of locs.  And she forgets all previous conversations about it so we start from scratch.  I am not at all excited about the idea of taking out all of these braids in 4-6 weeks.  And the final question appears to be -- will her hair actually loc.  I am having my doubts.

Mean Mama

Twins!

My new babies.  They are not identical...more like mirror images of each other.  See for yourself.

In anticipation of running a marathon, I have started walking.  Baby steps.  So I walked for a few days.  I got up early (which we all know I hate doing) and went for a walk.  Ladybug goes with me too.  The first few days were hard for her.  I told her she is Ethiopian and therefore born to run.  She got on board after a few days.  I mapped out a 1 mile route.

The problem is -- after a few days I developed shin splints.  In both legs.  As a former  runner (and wanna be runner) I recognized it.  So I decided if I was going to be serious about this I needed the right shoes.  The wrong shoes can destroy your feet and legs and hips.  And for me, who already has an old foot injury and knee injury, I really need the right shoes.  And since my current pair of sneakers is old they are beginning to break down.  Shoes have a shelf life -- who knew?

So I went to a special shoe store.  All the sales people are specially trained.  They make you walk.  They make you stand on one foot.  They watch your feet and legs.  They diagnose your walk.  And then recommend the right shoes for you. This is a vast improvement to how I did it when I was a runner.  I would buy the runner's magazine the reviewed the new shoes and read every word.  I would study my feet and walk -- and I have no knowledge in anatomy or physiology.  Then I would go to the store and try on every good possibility.  It would take hours.  I would try one and run around the store.  The try the next one and run around the store. Over and over.  And then as a narrowed them down I would try them over and over.  Until I could tell which one I loved and which ones I did not.  It took hours.  And I am sure it drove the sales person insane.  But this place does all of that for me.  After a 5 minute review of my feet and legs he pulled out 3 shoes that deal with my issues -- I over pronate and I have high arches. 

I tried on the first pair -- Brooks.  They felt good.  The toe box seemed really roomy to me.  Almost too roomy.  I guess I like a snugger feel then they provided.  Then I tried on pair number 2 -- Saucony.  I felt nothing wrong about them.  They felt snug without cramped.  The arch hit me right.  This might be the one but I needed to try number 3 -- Asic.  The moment I tried them on I knew the were not the right ones.  The heel was wrong, the arch was wrong, nothing felt good about them.  And it the end the Sacony won.

I was happy.  But my shin splints were too severe to be resolved by just a new pair of shoes.  I am on huge amounts of anti-inflammatory and I have stopped walking.  In 7-10 days I should be able to try again.

Mean Mama

Cooking

I seem to have finally managed to rid my place of ants.  No matter what I did the little buggers would just keep marching in.  I became a mass murderer and they still had no fear.  So I finally bought ant death traps and that seems to have solved the problem.  CELEBRATE!

Only problem is the roaches have come home.  Can I have the ants back?

I have killed a few.  I am always amazed that when I start spraying them with the killer death spray that they first start running toward me.  Attack of the killer roaches.  But they do die.  But one little bugger has eluded me.  If I see him upstairs then my spray is downstairs and by the time I get it he has disappeared.  If I see him downstairs then my spray is upstairs and by the time I get it he has disappeared.  The easy solution would be to have 2 cans.  Apparently I don't like easy solutions.  And I have no idea if it is the same roach or many roaches but I feel better thinking that there is only one haunting my house -- so I let myself believe it.  So we have done this dance for a few weeks now.

Yesterday morning I came down in the morning and threw the tea kettle on the stove to make my tea.  I then proceeded to do some other things around the kitchen.  Have I mentioned that I am not a morning person?  I am not.  So everything I do is out of habit.  I do not look, think, or pay attention to anything in the mornings.  And apparently that was true yesterday.  As I was putzing around the kitchen I began to smell something burning.  I look over at the stove and see a small stream of smoke coming from under my tea kettle.  I try to remember if I spilled something the night before but I can think of nothing (mornings).  So I lift the tea kettle and look.  The stream of smoke continues to rise. So I look closer.

Apparently the little bugger had tried to crawl between the coils of my electric stove burners and gotten stuck.  I didn't notice him -- as I am sure my eyes were not opened yet -- and proceeded to fry him.  He was blackened by the time I figured this out.

Fried cock roach for breakfast, anyone?

Mean Mama

One last school rant

... at least until next fall.

I don't understand the school system of rewards.  Luckily Ladybug seems to understand it.  It escapes me.  They have a system of "compliments."  Not that it has been explained to me in a way that I understand.   My understanding is that the kids can earn compliments.  How?  No idea.  What does it mean to have a compliment?  No idea.

Of course, Ladybug has a hard time earning them.  Let's face it, if she gets through the day without beating the crap out of a classmate I am proud.  Avoid the bad and I am happy.  Doing something good?  Well that is a bonus but not expected and not earned often.  So I was not surprised that she has not earned a lot of compliments.

What do you use the compliments for?  No real idea there either.  Really, I am an involved parent.  When we get home from school/work the first thing we do is homework.  We go through everything she has brought home in her backpack.  We do homework.  We study for spelling tests.  We go over her behavioral contract.  We talk about the "special" class of the day.  I ask what she had for lunch.  I find out what happened at recess.  I am involved.  Apparently I am also clueless -- at least about this compliment thing.

So the rant...

Ladybug came home one day this week and announced that her class had a special treat that day.  They had a magician come in to the 4 kindergarten classes and do a performance.  I was excited.  I bet she would have enjoyed it.  WOULD HAVE.  Because in the next breath she told me she was not allowed to go.  Why?  Because she didn't earn enough compliments.  Of the nearly 100 kindergarteners in the school 4 kids were not allowed to attend the special show.  She was one of them. 

Really?  You have a special performer coming to class and you exclude kids?  Oh and keep in mind that Ladybug was having a great day.  Perfect contract.  Compliments are earned and lost.  So the fact that she was too low in compliments meant to she missed out on a performance -- despite the fact that she was having a good day that day.  So she stayed behind in the classroom.  Colored. Worked on the computer. Read. Played a game with the other 3 kids who missed out.

Luckily she was okay with it.  And I tried to hide my outrage -- with her. 

Mean Mama

One of those days

I am having one of those days.  I am annoyed.  I woke up annoyed.  I have tried to change my attitude.  But nothing that has happened has helped.  And Ladybug has not helped at all.  I don't know how to deal with it.

She let me sleep.  But it was not a good sleep.  I woke up feeling exhausted and groggy.  She was raring to go. 

Pool
Pool!
POOL!

We can't go to the pool until we get a few things done.  And by few I mean 20.  I made a list.  Basic things like dishes, laundry, grocery shopping.  I want to get her to the pool but my list is looking impossible.

I asked her to clean up the living room.  I mean all the crap in it is hers.  She has hauled it down to the living room.  She can take it back.  She moans, she complains, she whines, and she finally takes it back upstairs.  And dumps it into her room.  At which point I ask her to clean her room, not surprising.  Well, actually apparently it was a surprise.  She cleans it.  Kind of.  She cleans it several times.

Then it is off to do some chores outside the house.  Trash.  Recycling. Library.  Grocery shopping.  We get in a fight before we even get in the car.  Well more like in the process of getting in the car.  She just keeps twisting her seat belt.  I get it latched and I start to pull out of the parking space and I look back.  That was the problem -- I shouldn't have looked back.  She is twisting it again.  Back in the parking space.  Out of the car.  Fix the seat belt.  And try again.

The trash is dumped off.  Over to recycling...which apparently isn't opened yet.  So I detour to the library.  We need to turn in books -- yesterday -- and get new ones.  It is closed.  Who knew?  Apparently we always went on Saturday.  So I leave the books in the drop and head back to recycling.  Where, apparently, everyone is in such a hurry to get in and out that they are willing to cause chaos.  Just let the person in front do their thing and wait your turn.  But no.  Annoyed!

Off to grocery shopping.  I pull into the lot -- still annoyed.  Ladybug is sleeping.  Maybe food will help.  I need food.  No, not McDonald's.  No, not Wendy's.  No, not Chinese.  We stop at our favorite pizza place.  She gets pizza.  I get a Greek salad.  My mood is improving.  Maybe we can do this.  We play a game with lunch (they have a lot of old picked through games but we find an almost complete deck of cards).

At the end of the meal -- before heading back to shopping -- she asks to go to the bathroom.  I don't understand her love of public bathrooms.  I don't normally let her go alone.  But I do this time.  There are only a few people in the place.  I can see the bathroom door from where I sit.  So I let her do.  I wait...and wait...and wait.  I clean up the table.  And I wait some more.  Seriously, what is she doing in there?  I am getting annoyed again.  Eventually I go check.  And I find her squirting soap all over the walls and wiping them down. 

Why?
Why?!
WHY?


I ask.  She has no answer.  Or more accurately, she refuses to answer.  Mute.  Which pisses me off.  We leave.  In a huff.  I am so not doing anything right, right now.  I am not a good mama of an attachment child.  I try improving the situation.  It is not working.  I don't have the right look.  Or the right posture.  Or the right tone.  So she doesn't respond in the right way.  It goes from bad to worse.  We didn't even make it out of the car at the grocery store. 

She is upstairs in her bed NOT taking a nap right now.  I am pissy and annoyed.  I need to get things done.  But I really just want to throw a fit.

Mean Mama

Ice Age 3

If you wanted to know anything about Ice Age 3 --- feel free to ask me.  I have watched it about 1 billion times since yesterday.  And that is only a slight exaggeration.  It arrived via Netflix yesterday.  We watched it 3 times yesterday.  And I think another 3 times today.  And yet she continues to ask questions about it each time we watch it.

So why are we watching Ice Age 3 so many times?  She refuses any other movie.  Oh, and we are doing hair.  Lots and lots of hair.  We started with this...

Well... kind of.  Last weekend during our all day swimming activity the bottom section of the braid came out and I just let it puff out.  Which of course made it very tangled by last night when we started the process. 


I have been struggling with what to do with her hair for the summer.  Her summer camp gives her an opportunity to swim every day.  In a pool.  That is a lot of chlorine.  She has a swim cap but I willing to bet that she will not wear it most days.  So I need something that will allow me to rinse her hair.  A lot.  And spray condition it.  A lot.

I have been struggling with what to do with her hair in general for about a year.  She asked for sisterlocks a year ago.  I seriously considered it.  I worried about the cost.  But I was serious enough about it that I went to see a consultant. The consultant suggestion that we not do it.  But hair has become a serious issue in our house.  She won't let me cut it.  She says cornrows hurts too much.  She screams when I comb it.  She hates having it washed. 

I struggle because... well... I am proud of my ability to do hair.  My hair takes 5 seconds.  Mostly because I do nothing with it.  I have spent a lot of time learning hair.  Washing.  Conditioning.  Beading.  Braiding.  Twisting.  Even though the process has not been a great thing lately.  If I did locks then there would be a significant drop in hair time.  Is that good or bad?  Maybe both.

So decided to install locks.  Braid locks.  And I started them last night.  It is simple.  Braids.  That I never take out.  So I used a gel that is extra mega hold.  And I made the braids small.  Really small.  Because since I am not taking them out I don't have to worry about how small they are. 

I divided her head into 12 sections.  We stuck in the movie.  And I started braiding.  I was excited.  I was happy.  I finished 2 sections (1/6 of the way done) when Ladybug had a meltdown.  She doesn't want locks.  She doesn't want them to be permanent.  She wants them to come out.  Really?  I don't even know if that is possible.  They are small. 

So I continued.  And after 6 viewings of Ice Age 3 I have 6 of the sections done.  Half way done.  Luckily the sections are not all equal in size so I may be more then half way done.

And this is what we have so far...

I will post pictures once they are all done.

Mean Mama

Going back to Ethiopia

I would love to go back to Ethiopia.  Anybody who knows me might find that statement strange.  When Ladybug was adopted I traveled to Ethiopia.  Only once.  Now parents are required to travel twice.  I spent 1 week there.  I was focused on my child.  I was there to be a mother.  And I think I missed something.  Maybe many somethings.

I flew 17 hours.  I hate to fly.  Seriously hate flying.  Which is why I drive 18 hours to visit my parents.  I don't understand how a big hunk of metal stays in the air.  And turbulence freaks me out.  But I didn't have a choice that time.  I couldn't exactly take a slow boat to Ethiopia.  So I flew.  And survived.  I went during the rainy season.  So I saw lots of mud.  And not the beauty of the country.

And my trip was not good.  I hear all these new adoptive families coming home and talking about the amazing wonderful trips they had.  I didn't have any of that.  I stayed at my agency guesthouse.  Before we went they asked about dietary restrictions.  I told them I don't each fish or seafood.  Which is all they served the first 3 days there.  Seriously, I can't not even pretend to choke down the stuff.  I was starving.  The mattress was about 1/2 thick.  I am not exaggerating.  And I am a spoiled American.  I love my bed.  And then there was the fact that my child was sick.  Ear infection, bronchitis, ring worm, scabies, lactose intolerant...am I missing anything?  And by the time we arrived home she had been kind of enough to share all of it with me -- except the lactose intolerance.  And then there was the grief.  She would sit on my lap and scream "Amaye" for hours.  She would scream if I passed her off to my mother -- so I could shower or pee.  She wanted to go to any Ethiopian male we ran across.  It was an exhausting trip.

So maybe because of it, I want to go back.  I want to experience Ethiopia in a way that I was unable to on the first trip.  Ii want Ladybug to go back.  And enjoy her birth country.  I want her to have some concrete memories -- and not just fantasies.  So I am thinking about it.  Maybe next summer.  If I can figure out how to pay for it.  Here is the option I am considering. 

Mean Mama

Unthinkable with unmentionables

Bedtime tonight was something I never could have dreamed up.

I sent her up to get into her pjs and brush her teeth.  She didn't want to.  She stalled.  But she went.

I followed.  And did what I shouldn't do -- I started picking up her room.  The mess bothers me and not her.

When she was done brushing her teeth she came into her bedroom and grabbed her pjs.  Then she looked at me and...

Ladybug: Can I change in the bathroom?
Mama: What?  Why? (did she all of a sudden get shy?)
Ladybug: I made a mess in my panties.
Mama: (do I want to know?)  What kind of mess?
Ladybug: You are going to get mad.
Mama: (sitting down)  I am only going to get mad if you don't tell me (I hope).
Ladybug: No you are going to be mad.
Mama: Just tell me how you made a mess.
Ladybug: Well, I took some M&M's out of the cabinet this morning and I hid them in my panties.

I can't make this stuff up.  I just hope she didn't eat them after they were hiding in her panties.  But I didn't dare ask.

Mean Mama

Unpopular opinion

Take the title seriously.  What I am about to write will define me as a bad mama -- not just a mean mama.  And specifically I am a bad adoptive mama.

Oh and one more warning... spoilers for Kung Fu Panda 2.  Do not read if you like being surprised by animated movies.

We went to King Fu Panda 2 this weekend.  Ladybug was looking forward to it.  We enjoyed the first one.  She wanted to see the second one.  For the record...we liked this one too.  She can't wait for 3 to come out.  And I do think there will be a 3 because of how the movie ends.

And somehow that makes me a bad mama.  At least in the adoption world.  My groups, boards, and list serves have exploded in outrage over this movie.  The implication is that the adoption language and ideas are so bad that no adoptive mom would take their child to this movie.  It will, after all, scar the child for life.

So what is so bad about the movie? 

Well, Po is a Panda.  Adopted by his dad who is a goose.  Only apparently he doesn't know he is adopted.  Really?  Panda...goose...panda...goose.  How did he miss it?  Trans species adoption.  There is a part in the movie when Tigress says something like, "You didn't know you were adopted??" dripping with sarcasm.  The implication is...how did he miss it?  I laughed.  And Ladybug looked at me with a quizzical look and said, "How did he not know he was adopted."  Duh!  Even my 6 year old understood he had to have been adopted. 

It reminded me of just before Ladybug came home and I was out to breakfast with friends.  One of my friends brought her daughter -- who was about 13 at the time.  The daughter looked at me and said, "Do plan on telling her that she is adopted?"  I paused and thought -- do not say something sarcastic, she is just a kid.  So I pulled myself together and said something more like, "Well, given the difference in our races I think it will be obvious but adoption will be an open topic in the house."  And then all of my friends laughed. 

And then there is the scene where his dad tells Po how he came to him.  Okay, he is not really adopted.  He showed up on the back stoop and the goose raised him.  Close enough to adoption.  The complaint I have heard from adoptive moms this week?  As the goose is telling the story of how he got Po, the goose is clearly uncomfortable and afraid.  And tender and caring.  The complaint?  How could the dad be ashamed to tell Po the story?  Really?  We are parents.  Not robots.  We get uncomfortable.  I got uncomfortable telling Ladybug about giving birth the other day.  Maybe the goose was not ashamed of the adoption story.  Maybe he was ashamed that he hadn't told the story sooner.  Maybe he was scared how his beloved child would react.  Maybe he was scared Po would leave him.  I saw no problem with this scene.

If you think you can handle any conversation with someone you love, try it.  Try explaining tampons to you kindergartener.  Try talking about oral sex with your grandmother.   Or maybe those things only happen in my life?

One more scene that has been criticized by several adoptive moms...the ending.  After all is said and done the movie ends (presumably as a lead to movie number 3), you see Po's biological father say, "My son is alive."  Throw up your arms in disgrace.  How dare a movie suggest that the fantasy that a birth parent is out there looking for the child they gave up.  Okay, first a spoiler.  Po was not given up for adoption.  He was lost.  There was no adoption plan.  This is a parent who would have raised his son, if given the chance.  So maybe it is realistic that a bio parent is searching for the child?  And guess what...welcome to reality...some bio parents do search for their bio children.

When Tangled came out (another story connected to adoption because Rapunzel is stolen from her parents and raised by a quasi-adoptive mom -- evil as she may be), I read all these bad adoptive mom reviews if we dared to take our children.  Now we have it again. 

Chill out.  Relax.  It is a kid's movie.

Remember that adoption is not THE thing that has happened to your child... it is ONE of the things that has happened in your child's life.  Adoption doesn't have to be serious - all the time.  I mean, it was a process that I took seriously.  But it doesn't have to be a heavy topic.  Lighten up.  I annoy my aunt when I say in one breath that it must be genetic when I do something similar to my adoptive mom and in the next breath I say that I am so glad I am adopted when she does something crazy.  My aunt says I can't have it both ways but that is one of the beautiful things about adoption -- I can have it both ways.  Sometimes when Ladybug is really silly I will say to her, "Where did you come from?"  And she will say with all the exasperation of a teenager, "Mom! You know.  Africa!" like she is really saying -- how many times do I have to tell her this before she remembers it.  Am I scarring my child?  Well...maybe.  I mean, she is in therapy for attachment issues.

Whatever!  It is a movie.  A kid's movie.  Lighten up!  Enjoy the movie.  Be happy.  And stop complaining about everything adoption if it is not said, done or portrayed in a perfect manner.

Just my opinion.

Mean Mama