On "hipster" parents

I admit, I fall into the description of "hipster" parents.

I've read all sorts of things about the topic lately, but Mom101 says it best.

The Final Word on Hipster Parenting. (Oh, Who am I Kidding.)

This will give you a taste of the piece. She quotes an article that slams the idea and gives her own insight:

So I'd hate to think that when I hit the streets of Brooklyn (who knew we were making such a hipster move when we got there; and here I was thinking we had simply gotten priced out of Manhattan) with my new baby in her Doc Maarten booties, that it will lead David Brooks and his ilk to leap to make value judgments about me. Especially when those value judgments are that I'm self-absorbed, emotionally stunted, and unfit to breed. Or, as it was expressed in the column: "Parents who refuse to face that their days of chaotic, unscheduled moshing are over."

Oh, how I mourn my days of unscheduled moshing, truly I do. Why, an impromptu mosh would really hit the spot right now. You got me there, David.

Random link Tuesday

I forgot to post yesterday with a random link, so you'll get one today.

Anyone who would frequent this place has WAY too much money and free time.

Oy!

waving the white flag

That's it. I give up. I can't take any more of the disappointment, the drama, the mess, the vomiting or the screaming and crying. I'm done.

I surrender.

Silver lining

When The Boy woke up from his nap (2 hours early), I brought him into bed with me. He only stopped screaming when the sisters came in. So they went, grabbed a toy for him and played with him to keep him quiet. When he, further investigating this new fangled technology we like to call "Gravity," kept throwing the toy, his sisters happily played fetch with him.

I've never been close with one of my sisters (emotionally or physically). She was 17 when I was born and didn't have much room for a baby sister. We plan on moving out her way in about 2 years. She sent me a card today. It reads,

I wish you where here, so that we could have done something together on your birthday. But I know that it will be soon that we are together and we can spend many more birthdays together. Have a great day.
Love Your Big Sis,

That made me smile. She's not one for sharing emotions or getting sappy, so that really meant a lot to me.

Dh went out and got me Starbucks. Granted, I forgot to ask for the decaf variety and I didn't get it until 8:30 at night, so chances are I'll be up all night, but hey, Girl2 is still throwing up, so I suppose that could be useful.

I vote to move my birthday. A friend thought it was the 28th. Maybe I should celebrate it then instead. Although, when shit like this happened a few years ago and I tried the same thing, I just wound up being disappointed twice because nothing happened on the Unbirthday day either. :::sigh:::

And the hits just keep on comin'.

Girl2 is throwing up. There will be no going out for my birthday. There will, however, be lots and lots of cleaning up, rubbing backs and filling the tub for her.

The little old man no longer smacks my hand. He now chases me with a cattle prod yelling, "No restaurant for YOUUUUUUU."

The rest of the day absolutely sucked. Dh has yet to wish me a, "Happy birthday." None of my friends have called. No one on my board made any mention of the day. That includes one board where mine is the first birthday they've missed. They even keep a birthday list up on top that has today listed as my birthday.

Lots of other stuff has happened to tick me off. I am NOT a happy camper.

Blah

So, guess what I am? I believe the technical term for this feeling would be, "Blah."

I'm just feeling down lately for a number of reasons.

Restaurants hate me. I never get to go to them. I love them dearly, but they apparently have some sort of force field that keeps me away. About this fact, I am greatly displeased.

Yesterday, plans to go out to eat with friends got nixed which ticked me off more than I realized. So I hit the phone and called a bunch of friends trying to find someone I could meet up with for a change of lunch plans. Everyone was either sick, busy or at work.

So I told dh we'd go out for dinner. He was fine with that (which is odd because he hates going out to eat), but then that got nixed because my kids headed for Pestville at warpspeed and I refuse to reward bad behavior with a trip to any place that they adore. So yet another chance at going out was nixed. Can't you just see some little old man smacking my hand away screeching, "No restaurant for YOUUUUUU?"

I wanted Starbucks tonight after the Nutless Wonder's training class which is conveniently right across from a Starbucks, but that didn't happen for a number of reasons. My fault because I didn't say I wanted it, but I'm getting annoyed with dh's ability to get huffy lately. I didn't want to deal with the passive aggressive sighing, so I didn't say anything.

I adore Starbucks. Anyone who knows anything about me knows I love my iced coffee drinks with a frightening passion. So any time one is within 100 or so feet of a Starbucks, one should know to ask. One should make absolutely certain he/she offers me coffee when it is just hours before my birthday, there is a Starbucks right there and one is well aware that not only is said Starbucks within reach, but it can actually be on the way home if you just make one simple left turn. But, alas, no Starbucks.

I'm sensing this is going to be yet another in a LONG line of sucky birthdays. Last year, for the first time in a long time, I actually had a good day. The previous year had been a tough one, so I threw myself a birthday party. I needed it. I had a blast. This year, no party and no definite plans for anything. Every year, I hope for something, but that never happens.

Grrrrr. I love my birthday. I just hate that it gets screwed up year after year. There's so much potential, but it usually gets squashed.

Let's see how many people forget it completely. Let's see how many people stumble across this entry and say, "Oh shit! It was her birthday?"

Screw this. I'm going to bed.

In the eternal words of Eric Cartman: "Screw you guys. I'm going home." That and, "Mooooom. Kitty's being a dildo," but that last one really has nothing to do with this entry. Except, maybe that last word.

FTR, after about 12:30 pm tomorrow, I'll be home. If you have any clue where I live and you're in my metro area, feel free to show up at my door with coffee. Just don't expect me to invite you in. I have 3 kids, a dog, 2 cats, a husband who zones out with a book (when he's not sighing about granola bars), way too much junk of which I'm trying to dispose and a nice heaping case of malaise. Plus until just a few hours ago, it was Shabbat and G-d expressly said, "Dude, it's MY day. Step away from the mop!" Really, it's in there. Just bust out your copy of the Tanakh and you'll find it there. I promise.

The granola bar martyr

And now let me introduce you to the bane of my existence: granola bars. These are yummy, chewy, happy granola bars that are cheap and are only 2 points for those doing Weight Watchers. Every week, dh buys a big box of them. And every week, he bitches about the fact that I eat them all and he doesn't get any. Yet every week, he doesn't EVEN TRY TO EAT ANY. WTF? I grabbed two after we went food shopping last week. That prompted the damn passive aggressive sigh. It was lunch time, I hadn't eaten, and we still had to sit there and wait for the kids to get out of Sunday school. Shut up. Sit down. And give me my freaking granola bars!

The other day, he reached in for a granola bar (which is a shock because he never does until the day before we go shopping). He saw there were only 2 left and declared (with a heavy sigh), that he wasn't going to have one because there were only two left. I told him to eat one. He didn't. I then told him he doesn't get to play that game. You can't bitch just to bitch. You can't bitch when there aren't any and then bitch when there are. None left? "Oh woe is me, by the time I got there, you had eaten them all and there was nothing left for me." A few left? "There were only two left, so I couldn't have any. Doesn't matter that you told me to have one. I can't play the freaking martyr if I actually eat a granola bar. So I'll just stand here and whine instead." My husband, the granola bar martyr.

This is getting really old. I've taken to hiding when I eat the damn granola bars because I don't want to hear it. That pisses me off because I'm an adult. I shouldn't have to hide to eat my own damn food.

Oy. I'm just not in a good mood lately (more on that later) and this shit is pissing me off big time. Keep it up. Let's see how granola bars work as projectiles.

Reason to love homeschooling #372

Dh has been reading the Emma books to the girls at bedtime. Emma is an 8-year-old living with her mother. They have a friend's 4-year-old little boy staying with them.

In the story, Emma doesn't like the little boy. They don't get along. Dh tried to explain to the girls that it's because Emma is older, so she'd rather play with kids her age and she finds the little boy obnoxious. The girls don't understand. They're homeschooled. They play with kids of all ages and kids of all ages willingly play with them.

Here's the gist of the reply dh got to his attempt to explain the age thing:

But Cecilia is 8. We're little, but she plays with us. She likes to play with us. Her sister is 9 and she plays with us too. We like playing with them. They have beads. We play dress up with them. We put on fashion shows with them.

At a field trip in October, the mom of the aforementioned sisters summed it up nicely. The kids were all playing on a haystack and a boy of about 12 called for another little boy to play with him. This friend of mine asked, "In what public school would you find a pre-teen willing to play with a 4-year-old?"

Civilians

When you're Jewish, you have the word "Goy." It basically means "non-Jews," but it's usually used when someone is completely clueless.

In military life, civilians are our goyim. When someone makes a stupid comment or makes it clear that they have no concept of how the military works, you shrug your shoulders and say, "You can't blame him. He's a civlian." If they say something particularly stupid, you usually pepper that with a few expletives.

Dh has started interviewing for civilian jobs. He starts his terminal leave in less than a month. His separation date is the end of May.

The prospect of being a civlian family frightens me. I've been a military wife for so long now. Our kids have always been military "brats." This isn't just a job, it's a way of life. I'm glad dh is abandoning his military career (never thought I'd say that) because it's obvious that it's not the best place for him (which sucks because he has gotten all kinds of honors and awards, but the current administration has screwed up royally and that directly affects the military). Still, everything we know is about to change and that's scary as hell.

Operation Get This Crap Out Of My House: Day 1

Inspired by Kamrin's quest to simplify her life towards the end of last year, I decided to do the same. That whole ordeal started today. When you're a pack rat, that is not an easy task. Oy!

After dh and I folded and put away a few loads of laundry last week, we were left with the realization that we have more clothes for the kids than we have room. Mind you, the girls have a closet and an armoire, the latter of which they now have to share with their brother because his clothes no longer fit in his dresser.

That's it! Not only am I going to stop buying all this crap, I'm also going to sort through the clothes and get rid of a bunch. Those that we borrowed from friends will go back to their rightful home. Anything anyone else gave us will be given away (I'm not comfortable selling things that other folks have given us). Some items will be passed to my sister. Everything else will be sold either at an upcoming consignment sale or at one of the local kids' consignment stores.

I sorted clothes today. Oh my word! My kids have more clothes than any 5 or 6 kids could need. And mind you, that's only what we had out. There are boxes and boxes in the attic. I'll sort through them when I'm feeling a bit more ambitious. Right now, I'm far too tired.

We're not just forcing the kids to simplify. Dh and I sorted through old magazines today. A huge stack went to the recycling dumpster type thing at a local church (not sure what the official title is). That left us with two empty plastic storage boxes. Woo hoo. After sorting through the kids' clothes, I got another one emptied. Yay to getting rid of crap and freeing up some space.

Next step, consolidate the two giant plastic boxes of diapers into just one. Then donate all the extra liners/covers. Sure, I cloth diapered twins, but thanks to generous friends, I actually have enough liners/covers to diaper 4 babies. That's AFTER I gave some away to a foster mom two years ago. So some of this has got to go.

I'm exhausted and a bit overwhelmed (to be honest, WAY more than just a bit), but it's also so freeing. I'm just beginning to realize how much having all this stuff around weighs me down. It leaves the place cluttered. It means we're constantly cleaning or moving things around. I'm really looking forward to pairing down to only what we need and use.

On the agenda: stop obsessively checking the super cheap jewelry website & definitely stop buying more pretty shiny useless crap from there.

What a doll (with a penis)!

For a while there, I went on a rampage--the type of rampage where, when one is finished, one has bunches of plastic babies with bits. Yes, I went on an anatomically correct doll buying rampage.

When dh came home last time, I had 2-year-olds who could accurately and without hesitation tell you about their girl bits. When they saw their daddy naked, though, they were a bit baffled. "Vulva," they asked questioningly when they saw him in the shower (and yes, it was complete with pointing). Hey, there hadn't been a penis in this house in months until dh came home. What do ya expect? Daddy didn't like that at all. He tried to explain the concept of the penis, but alas, they didn't understand.

So I scoured the stores, the internet and the ebay. There were none in the stores (what's up with that? Is Toys R Us afraid of the power of a tiny plastic penis?). I got a bunch of plastic dolls from E-bay, but most of them broke. Then I found these. Three years later, we still have the Hispanic boy doll (which the girls named NoDoubt. Don't ask because even I don't know). I love that doll. It's adorable.

So when I saw them featured at Cool Mom Picks, I had to say a hearty, "ITA."

FTR, they now understand the whole boy/girl thing and are no longer baffled by the penis. In fact, when changing their little brother (yes, they change him too), they're very likely to announce in a sing-songy voice, "Oh look, he found his penis. Do you like your penis?"

I love my kids. They have cute toys and they crack me up.

I love my husband.

We have always boycotted Valentine's Day. We think it's a stupid Halmark holiday. Although, now the girls are old enough to really appreciate it. So we opted to celebrate it for them. We had agreed to just buy/do something for/with them, but dh surprised me.

First off, on his lunch break, he went to the store and bought them Valentine's gifts. What did my tough military husband get? Two blinking tiaras that come complete with matching clip-on earrings and rings. Oh and a pack of bracelets too. The kids adore them. I love that dh isn't afraid to be seen buying tiaras and even more than that, I'm thrilled that he's the type of dad who knows what his kids like.

Then he surprised me. He got me a gift. He warned me, "It's not your standard Valentine's Day gift."

What was it? Strawberry Daiquiri mix and tequila. The man is GOOD.

Mother knows best

The doctor "poo-poo-ed" us when we called about the kids' fevers. He insisted it was nothing and would take care of itself. I decided if they still had fevers today (a full week later), I would make an appointment. I had a feeling they had a secondary infection. The nasal congestion started in full-force just today.

Sure enough, after an exam, the doctor agrees. I don't like to take/give drugs when not necessary, but when needed, I want 'em and I want 'em now (or a week after the onset of the illness, whichever comes first). All the kids' got prescriptions. Oddly, he wrote one for the girls and a different one (Amoxicillin) for The Boy. I asked him to switch it and he did without a question. Dh and I are allergic to Penicillin as is Girl2. We don't know about Girl1 because this very same doctor won't let her try it. He said we're better off just assuming she is allergic since chances are she is. So it was strange when he prescribed it for The Boy.

Anyway, the kids have been dosed and are now on their way to feeling better. Yay. Maybe I can save my sanity after all.

And I must point out that I WAS RIGHT. I do so love that phrase. :-)

Random link Monday

Okay, I need a break from the sick kids (yes, they're STILL sick. The doctor finally agreed to see us later today), so here are a few links from my "funny" folder:

A collection of interesting and fun links
You can waste lots of time here. From building your own action figure to a warning sign generator, there's something for everyone.

Bald Guy Greetings
Funny cards. I particularly like this first birthday one and this multi-occasion one as well.

Postcards
A friend of a friend made these. They crack me up.

The Rudy Letters
Here's the official discription:
A man, a computer, and too much free time on his hands. Prepare to enter the complex and oddly alluring world of Rudy.

Now go forth and enjoy the linky goodness.

This is how you know it’s love.

I don't know what initially brought dh and me together. He was not at all what I thought I wanted. He thought I was cute, but I don't believe he had any serious plans of asking me out. Yet 10 years ago, we met, started dating, and made our way to this time and place.

I adore my husband for many reasons--far too many to list, but I want to write about one of them.

After a conversation the other evening, though, I came to a realization. We started this journey as a couple because we were in love. Contrary to what the Beatles would have us believe (even if the song is oh so wonderful), love is not all you need. Love is the foundation, but you need trust, you need security, you need to compliment one another, you need to have a similar vision of the future, you need to be willing to work through the rough spots, you need sensitivity.

You need a huge helping of fun. You need to be able to have fun together, not at the other one's expense.

Dh and I had the strangest conversation the other night that left me giggling, shaking my head, and realizing just how much I love my husband (and how lucky we are to have that). I swear this is the dumbest thing and it won't translate well, but follow me anyhow.

We had a discussion the other evening about whether or not Oprah would feature a levitating cat on her show. We never did come to an agreement (he says, "Yes," I say, "Not unless it also starts spouting off something about honoring your spirit,"), but we cracked up laughing. In the same conversation, we covered topics from Batman to _Jane Eyre_.

The fact that we can have these discussions (serious and absolutely freaking insane) and can still laugh together is one of the reasons we're still together today.

For that, I am very thankful. For him, I'm more grateful than I could ever say (and trust me, I talk A LOT, so for me to be left speechless is a huge deal).

Random linky goodness

A friend sent me this and I must share:

Barbie as you've never seen her before.

I don't like Barbie. I have huge issues with Barbie dolls and the roles they play in female gender identity and body image. That being said, I LOVE that link and I love Margaux Lange's designs. She's SO creative and she definitely works outside the box.

the strangest thing (finding peace)

I had the strangest realizations today.

So, you'll remember that I've been bitching for months about some baby-related things.

Today, a whole host of things happened that should have ticked me off. Not only did they not in the least, but I actually realized I'm grateful for where I am at this point in time.

I went to a homebirth meeting. We discussed what typical homebirths are like and how even with most hospital transfers, the baby's are born vaginally with no drugs. That was very much not my experience.

I keep thinking that should have bothered me, but it didn't. Even when my very favorite midwife mentioned how physical abnormalities that make it impossible for babies to fit through the pelvis are very rare, I didn't get all "Woe is me," about it.

I know things could have gone very differently with my first pregnancy when I saw an OB (long story short, but the OB didn't do her job and I got very sick and had an emergency c-section 2 months too soon as a direct result), but I'm beginning to let that go. I learned from that experience and it has made all the difference. Maya Angelou had it right, "When you know better, you do better." I made a mistake in seeking Obstetric care. I have since learned the difference between the midwifery model of care and Obstetric care. I am blessed to have been fortunate enough to experience midwifery care with my second pregnancy rather than just clinging to what was familiar.

I was shocked to find that I think I have forgiven everything surrounding The Boy's birth. I know now that there is no way my son would have been born vaginally. It wasn't anyone's fault--not mine, not the doctor, not G-d's. No one could have done anything any differently.

At the meeting, a friend asked, "What if you transfer to the hospital and you refuse a c-section." It occured to me, "Wait, I did just that." Granted, I eventually signed the damn consent and had him sliced out of me because I'm one of the rare few cases that really needed one, but I went down fighting. I refused until I had a chance to exhaust my options. I didn't give up. I didn't buckle under pressure. It wasn't a waste because I proved my own strength. I find a lot of strength in that fact.

I find I'm not villifying my second c-section any longer. I still think the rates are WAY too high in the States and all this bull with not allowing VBACs in some states has got to stop, but I'm actually grateful that the procedure exists. We need to cut this shit out when we reach for the scalpel just because the doctor wants to make more money ($2,000 for a vaginal birth vs. $5-10,000 for a c-section), their "Chicken Little mentality" has them insisting there "could" be a danger when it's actually not likely, the hospital staff is tired of waiting for mom to labor on her own, or just because it happens to be a day ending in Y (a nod to Giselle for using one of her catch phrases); but when used effectively (and only when there's a true physical need), c-sections save lives. Twins are typically smaller than singletons, so with better care, there's a chance that I could have birthed my twins vaginally, but there's no chance that The Boy would have been born that way. Without a c-section, I would have died as would my son. I am the rare case (2% vs. the 30-some-odd % currect c-section rate in the U.S.) that truly needed that surgery. Words cannot express how thrilled I am that I had the option.

At the end of the meeting, it occured to me that I was the only woman present who wasn't pregnant. And you know what? That didn't bother me at all.

I'm actually grateful to NOT be pregnant right now. Dh is about to end his military career (well, the active duty part at least). He has only just begun to interview for new jobs. The Boy is still young (I like at least a 3 year age difference between my kids, not counting those that come as a matched set). My body will have a much better chance for a successful VBAC if we wait at least 2 full years after The Boy was born to start trying. There are things I'll need to do/avoid next time around and I'm just not ready to go there yet. I like that I'm giving myself time to adjust first.

This has been my biggest issue for a long time. It has torn my heart out and made me absolutely miserable. So it's very strange to, all of a sudden, find such peace with it. I am imensely thankful for that. I am just in awe of it all.

The silver lining

The girls are still sick. The Boy is apparently done with it all after just one day and no meds. G-d bless breastfeeding!

There was a really cute bright spot today. The girls huddled together on the couch this morning and Girl1 started singing to her sister to make her feel better.

Nothing brightens your day quite like hearing the deep congested voice of your sick little one singing "The Brave Old Duke of York" to her equally sick sister all while they're hugging each other cuddled up under the blankets.

Quite possibly the most inappropriate survey question I have ever answered:

"What places, if any, have you or anyone in your household purchased a glazed, spiral-cut ham from in the past 12 months?"

Bwa ha ha ha ha.

Unfortunately there's no box that reads, "I'm a Jew. I don't eat pig corpse, but I do have this* hanging on my fridge."

*

Thank you, sir, may I have another?

And the hits just keep on coming.

More kids are sick. We almost took Girl1 to the ER. I planned a dinner with friends only to have to cancel.

I called the sister and made plans to go out to eat with her. We were going to invite along the newly pregnant friend that I missed at lunch. I was leaving the kids with dh, shopping with the sister, then dinner.

When I came home, Girl1 was feeling much better. Then Girl2 got sick. She had a fever, but she put herself to bed. That NEVER happens. My girls stopped napping right after their second birthday.

The bright spot of the day was that without prompting, Girl1 colored a picture, brought it in to her sister, gave it to her and said, "I made this. It's a card for you to make you feel better."

Then Girl1 crashed on the couch. I know Christians believe in signs of the Apocolypse. I'm telling you, my girls willingly putting themselves down for a nap should be on that list. You know that if that happens, the news is not good.

Girl1 woke from her nap hours later still with a fever, but feeling much better. Girl1 woke crying. She had a fever of 104.7. I tried desperately to keep my calm while I called the doctor's after hours number. I waited and didn't hear anything. I gave her some more Motrin and a hot bath (I've heard cold baths can be dangerous with a fever). She came down to 103. An hour later, the doctor called back and told dh not to worry. Unless she absolutely refuses to eat or drink, don't be concerned even if her fever goes as high as 106 or 107.

Wait. Wait. Wait. I adore my doctor, but that's bull. I know kids can survive higher fevers than adults, but when they're that high, there's a risk of brain damage. A call to a friend who is a nurse as well as a checking in with a friend who is an Occupational Therapist and whose husband is a physician confirmed my fears and told us that should her fever get above 103, to get her to the hospital.

The doctor suspects we have the Flu. He says we'll probably all get it. Yet he didn't offer to call in a prescription for Tamiflu and he's now completely unreachable. Grrr. I like to avoid pills whenever possible, but I'm all for a medication that keeps my entire famly from suffering and possible trips to the ER.

I left our plans up to the sister and she bailed. I completely understand. She's awfully pregnant and the last thing she needs is to get the Flu. Still, it sucks. I wanted to hang out. I wanted yummy food. I wanted to spend some time with friends. Not gonna happen.

This also means no gym for me tomorrow. The gym is what keeps my sanity. Plus I'm in a contest there for the most inches lost. This is the last week of the contest. Missing 2 days (remember, I missed today because of my meeting) is not going to help. GAH.

This sucks. See that corner over there? I'm gonna go sit there and pout now. Wait, first I'll treat myself to some of that wine. I do have a whole gallon after all.

It's been one of those days all week.

I'm just in a mood today.

I'm dealing with my own issues and now lots of drama has risen up around me. I soak up other people's emotions. That combined with the fact that I'm usually willing to put myself out there and a career where it's my job to listen to people's problems makes for lots of stress. When people around me are mad/sad/stressed, I tend to pick that up in spades. Lately, everyone wants to whine to me about their situation. It doesn't seem that they want solutions. Apparently, they just want to heap their drama on top of my overflowing cup and I really can't take too much more of it. I just want to shake them all and yell, "DEAL WITH IT!" I'm more than willing to help you try to find the solution that works best for you, but I'm not in a position to take on more stress.

Couldn't sleep last night. Too much running around in my head. Then Girl1 woke up sick. So she came to bed with us. Then I REALLY didn't sleep.

That kid spent her first 8 months beside me in bed. Her sister spent her first 15 months in bed with us. So why is it that now I can't sleep at all with just one of them in bed with me?

I got maybe 2 hours of sleep last night--not consecutive. Then I had a meeting this morning. We were locked out of the building in the cold for a while. Not fun. Had to coordinate schedules so dh could get home to watch the sick one. Then I didn't have time after the meeting to go to lunch.

I got to see a good friend today who I never get to see any more. She purposely came today and announced to the group that she's pregnant (I already knew, but shhhh, it was a secret). I really wanted to go to lunch with her and do some catching up, but t'was not to be. Dh needed to get back to the office, so I had to come right home. I LOVE lunch after meetings. I hate missing that.

Add to this all that it appears dh is showing symptoms of PTSD again. It's delayed, so I really wasn't expecting it, but I've had a really difficult time with this situation lately and he just shuts down. He ignores me completely. Time to make another appointment with the therapist (strange coincidence, I found out that another military wife friend with whom I have WAY too much in common also sees the same therapist). Not sure what good it'll do since it'll only be for me and the kids have to come with me, but I need to do SOMETHING to prevent myself from climbing out of my own skin.

I realize that none of this is the end of the world, but I'm just kind of fed up lately. It's not any one or anything inparticular. It's just all of it rolled into one big stinking screaming ball of suckage.

I'm just annoyed at the world right now.

"I can't stand my life. I can't stand myself. I can't stand in these six inch heels anymore."

Well, maybe not exactly, but I thought it was appropriate for this moment in time. I'm in a mood. Come back tomorrow when I'll be more entertaining, I promise. I'll tell you how this little Jew now has a gallon of wine intended for mass given to her by a former nun. Good times, I tell ya. Much better than this shit!

tie for first place

Whoops, I forgot one commercial. This one cracked me up. It actually ties the Bud Light one for my top pick:

Chevy Strip

Super Bowl Commercials: My top picks

Went to a Super Bowl party this evening. We had lots of fun and lots of yummy snacky foods.

I didn't give a damn who won. All I was there for was the food, friends, and commercials.

Here are my very favorites:

This is my top pick:
Bud Light as a second language

I also liked these:

Click A Mouse (Blockbuster)

Sierra Karate

Nutty Goulet (Emerald Nuts)

Promotion Pit (careerbuilder.com)

Rock, Paper, Bud Light

Honorable mention goes to:

Taco Bell Safari

Think happy thoughts.

Need more happy? I know I do. And so, I'll share some kid news.

At services on Friday, the kids were absolutely wonderful. Dh held The Boy during it and at one point, the baby pointed to me, then pointed to the door and announced "Out." "Out? He wants me to leave," I said in a shocked and amused tone. Dh laughed. The Boy really did say, "Out." Dh heard it too.

While trying to decide what item from our Jewish home to bring to Sunday school, Girl2 insisted she wanted to bring me. When I said I couldn't do that, she insisted, "You're in my house and you're Jewish. What's the problem?"

This "Bring something Jewish from home" assignment has lead to lots and lots of fun with my kids. Yesterday, Girl1 told me she wanted to bring a toy. I reminded her it had to be something Jewish. She told me, "All my toys are Jewish. I'm their mom and I'm Jewish. If your mom is Jewish, you are too. So all my toys are Jewish." I couldn't argue with that. I could, however, laugh.

Because I really need a positive spin right now...

we return to the Gratitude game.

I got the letter D.

1. Daughters: I adore my girls. I consider myself very lucky to have not only my girls, but kids of both sexes. I have friends who desperately wanted a child of one sex, but wound up with 3, 4, or even 5 of the opposite. I'm blessed to know both sides of the coin. Although, I consider the opportunity to raise girls to be a great one. Aside from the stereotypical cute girl stuff, I get the chance to teach our girls that they can make a difference in the world. Granted, I plan to teach our son the same thing, but it's a whole different ball game with girls. I have been given the huge responsibility and privilege of raising daughters in a way where they hopefully feel confident in their own skin and can excel in whatever they choose.

2. Diary: This thing helps me sort things out. It forces me to continue writing. It allows me to look back and see things in a different light.

3. Dance: It was my escape for so many years. It lead me to some of the most wonderful people in the world. I was raised believing that everyone is a dancer at heart. Then I met my husband who has no sense of rhythm. So now I can better appreciate all those long hours and hard work I put into dancing. The ability to do that really is extraordinary. I will never be able to explain how much magic dance brought into my life.

4. Darkroom: My grandfather was a photographer. He had very little formal education, but he taught himself so much about his photography. His pictures of family members are some of the only portraits we have. Without his pictures, I would never have known what many of them looked like. His touching candid portraits of my grandmother (for whom I'm named, but who died long before I was born) introduced me to her long after she was gone. We had the remnants of his darkroom in my basement when I was a child. When I was in high school, I set foot in a working darkroom for the first time and I was in love. Not only was I better able to realize a life-long passion (I got my first camera at 6-year-old and never looked back), but in that darkroom, I found a connection to that grandfather.

5. Deodorant: I work out for 2 hours every day. 'Nuff said. :-)

6. Dessert: Chocolate. :::drool::: Once again, 'nuff said.

7. Determination: I'm not the type who believes people when they tell me I can't do something. I'm stubborn as hell which can be a problem sometimes, but once I make up my mind about something, it's gonna happen. "Don't start with me. You will not win." That about sums it up. :-)

8. Dictonary: I was voted the top student in my AP English class by my peers. My award was a penny (long story) and the biggest dictionary I had ever seen. That award meant SO much to me. I still have the penny (framed) and I still have that dictionary.

9. Dreams: I'm thankful for dreams for two reasons. #1. You can always have a goal. XY and Z may be wrong with your life, but if you have a dream to become something, you have something to work for. You have a light at the end of the tunnel. #2. I'm a daydreamer, so I love flight of fancy dreams. While my body may actually be stuck in the car behind a long line of other cars moving at roughly 3 miles per hour, my mind could be wandering damn near anywhere and I assure you it's much warmer and picturesque there plus it smells a lot better too.

10. Drinks: of the alcoholic variety. Not only the drinks, but the friends with whom you go drinking. Don't worry, I'm responsible about it, but I just love having a drink (or an entire bottle of wine) with friends. It's so nice to get out with friends, have a few drinks and chat.

How the hell do I deal with this one?

Someone in my family is having a baby. This is AWFUL news. This child is unplanned. The parents are not married (which I realize isn't the end of the world, but from what I hear, they're not even all that stable), only one of them is working and one of them is a pedophile.

I know he is, but my family is in utter denial. They have been for years. So family members have taken to happily e-mailing/calling to tell me about this baby. I yelled at my mother when I spoke to her today. Now I don't do that. I do not yell at my mom. I do not curse around my mom. Yet today, when she acted out-right giddy about the whole disaster, I went off. She then insisted it was no business of mine what they decide to do (they're keeping the baby). I yelled, "When they're introducing a new little fuck-up into the world, it's all of our business." I apologized as soon as the word was out of my mouth, but I meant it.

This guy's grandfather abused his father, so his father abused him and waged war against my whole family (tried to kill us all and almost succeeded more than once), and then, of course, he went on to be abusive.

A family member sent me a happy e-mail saying she predicted a boy. My first thought was, "I sure as hell hope so." This guy likes little girls. I'm talking LITTLE. I refused to leave him alone with my 4-year-old cousin when I saw how he reacted to her. But then I started thinking about the cycle. If it is a boy, chances are we'll just be releasing another psychopath into the world who will abuse more people.

I cannot put into words how much I hate this person. I try desperately not to hate anyone, but I realized long ago that if he was to die, I would not only be relieved, but absolutely ecstatic. I know that sounds awful, but I won't apologize for it. If he was dead, he couldn't hurt anyone else. If he was dead, I wouldn't have to worry about him reproducing. His mother got pregnant with him when she was young and unmarried. She got married, had the baby and kept him. I know I have some readers who would never ever agree with me on this, but I wish with all my heart that she had had an abortion. The cycle could have ended there.

I'm at such a loss right now. I have so many emotions that they're leaving me numb. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to run the hell away. I spent a portion of the night in bed with the girls last night. How the hell do I protect them? Not only do these evil people exist, but they keep reproducing either biologically or through the people they abuse (often, those people are one in the same). We can't run away from it. How can I protect my kids from it?

And now we have this latest disaster. What am I supposed to feel? How the hell can I deal with these emotions? Do I even want to? It just seems like it would be so much easier to be numb. How the hell do I get my husband to understand that I need him right now? How can I tell the family to STOP FREAKING E-MAILING ME SONOGRAM PICTURES? How do I get my mom to understand that this is NOT good news and I don't want to happily chat about it? If I just jump in the car and drive, how far will I get before it all hits me?

And the cape goes to...

My niece. She is my new hero. Want to know why? Because she has lost 117 lbs since May.

Once I pick my jaw up off the floor, I will be applauding loudly.

Warning: Cape does not enable wearer to fly

FTR, yes, the subject was an actual warning included with a Halloween costume. What on earth is this world coming to?

Okay, now back to the story:

First the backstory:

The girls have Superman sheets. The pillowcase has his big face on one side. You can clearly see a cleft in his chin. Dh also has a cleft in his chin. This lead to the girls' belief that their father is a superhero. Girl1 inherited that cleft chin. So it's clear that she too must be a super hero. Her super power has yet to be determined, but she knows she's a superhero.

Today, she proudly told me how she found a broken light on the floor in the gym nursery, so she turned it over to the staff there. I thanked her and told her she may have saved the babies because they may have choked on it or gotten cut. She then insisted saving babies is her super power, but she paused and added in a baffled voice,

"I'm a superhero, but I wasn't born wearing a cape."

Have I mentioned lately how much I love my kids? That cracked me up.