33tekfan’s Weblog

So I am JUST NOW in my laundry room (at 8:45PM), which also doubles as our side entry, when I hear a tap, tap, tap at the door.  Great.  The light is on, and just the screen door is open at the moment.  Someone is obviously at home.

It was a kid - maybe 18 or 19.  He is on some sort of scholarship  donation quest - improving his public speaking and finding out what people do for jobs so that he is MOTIVATED for next year - and “oh yeah, would you like to contribute?”.  I practically had to push this kid off my doorstep after I said “no thank you, but good luck” and he continued talking and trying to get me to donate.  Clearly his approach was just to keep talking until I paid him to go away.  Or pushed him off my doorstep.  I didn’t push him, but I DID walk in the house and close the door.  Look, I’m patient ONCE.  Don’t press your luck with me.

I cannot stand people who come to my door to solicit.  Be it scholarships, sales, or churches.  I did not ask you to come here and try to solicit money or anything else from me.  If I want to donate to a cause, I will do so.  One that I’ve researched and feel compelled to give to - not just some random organization that some kid standing on my doorstep - with no documentation - tells me to.  If I want new windows, frozen food, steaks, or a new pool (::snicker:: that makes it seem like we even have an OLD pool)…I will buy it when I want to and when I’m ready - not because someone has appeared on my doorstep to persuade me to do so.

And don’t even get me started on the church thing.  I am not religious, although I was raised Catholic.  I feel I lead a good life and organized religion just doesn’t hold a place in my life right now.  Might that change?  Who knows…never say never.  On average, we get at least one visit a week from members of local (and maybe not so local) churches.  You know what I do?  I hide.  And I let the dogs bark at the door like the little balls of fluff  mad guard dogs that they are.  So I get the little brochures tucked into my door for me to find later.   I am probably on the fast track to hell.

So does that even work?  Really?  How many people drop whatever it is they are doing at the moment said sales/scholarship/religious person show up at their doorstep and proclaim “THANK YOU!  I HAVE JUST BEEN WAITING FOR YOU, OH SWEET STEAK SALESMAN!  How happy I am that you are finally here and I don’t have to trek three miles to that pesky grocery store.  I hope the baked potato salesman shows up soon.”  

I know I may have offended since I threw the religious card in.  Please don’t take it personally.  I am way cool with religion - it’s just not for me at this point in life.  They probably annoy me because of that lingering Catholic guilt that screams in my head “you should go to church (and take your children) you heathen!” - and they give it an external voice when they show up.

There are no facts, only interpretations.  ~Friedrich Nietzsche

RSVP – French for “Repondez s’il vous plait” or, in plain English, “Please reply”. These little letters are the not-so-secret code that you should call or write your host within a day or two of receiving an invitation to let him know if you can attend or not. All invitations have some sort of a reply mechanism – an enclosed card, a phone number, an email address or a mailing address. A prompt reply is a basic courtesy. (Taken from emilypost.com)

Why has it become so hard for us to pick up the phone and respond to a party invitation?  Or write a thank you card?  Or be even a tad courteous of people in general?

I recently had a birthday party for my son (those of you paying attention will recall his birthday is in December.  We don’t do December parties - too much else going on).  The Captain wanted his party at the bowling alley - complete with bowling, mini-golf, arcade, pizza, and soda.  We had to provide only the cake.  So, we needed to know how many children: 1) so the bowling alley knew how much pizza to provide and how many lanes would be needed. 2) so I knew what size cake to buy. (I baked him a cake on his real birthday.  Don’t judge.) 3) so I knew how many favors to put together (I had extra time since I didn’t bake a cake.) 4) so I knew how many quarters to bring so they all could play arcade games.  Let’s just say on the day of his party, I had NO IDEA how many children would be coming.

The first time I experienced this was when  I was sitting in the limo outside the church on my wedding day.  I watched my husband-to-be’s uncle, aunt, 3 cousins and a date for each cousin strolling up the sidewalk toward the church.  Beyond the fact that the dates weren’t even invited, none of them had RSVP’d.  None.  8 extra people.  That was a whole table!  Where were they going to sit? How much more were we going to have to pay the caterer?

Since then, there have been numerous showers, christenings, and birthday parties that I’ve hosted or helped host.  Every single time, we run into the RSVP problem.  We never really know how many people to plan on because so few actually take the time to respond.

It’s a basic courtesy. 

Manners are a sensitive awareness of the feelings of others.  If you have that awareness, you have good manners, no matter which fork you use.  ~Emily Post

Disclaimer:  Although I try to not bitch about my ex-husband here - in case my children ever read the blog - I am straying from that rule for this one post.  Because I am just.that.pissed.off. and the Postman’s ears are beginning to bleed from all the bitching I’ve done.  And while my new BFF, the Whirlpool Duet, will take the blood out of the clothes it won’t do anything for the blood that’s pooling on the floor.

My kids are with their dad this weekend.  Due to baseball, we rearranged visitation and they hadn’t seen him in a couple of weeks.  Which means the Diva hadn’t spent any time with him (and his wife - referred to from here on in as the Nurse) since her declaration of vegetarianism.  The Postman warned me - oh yes he did!  He said “What do you want to bet her dad wants no part of this vegetarian stuff?”.  “Oh, no”, I replied.  “His sister is a vegetarian.  It’s no big deal.  He’ll be fine with it.”

I am so damn naive at times.  The Postman was SO right.

The Diva called me just a couple of hours after we dropped them off last night.  Nearly in tears.

Her:  “Guess what, Mumma?  Guess what I had to eat for dinner?”

Me:  “What?”

Her:  “Fish.  Daddy and the Nurse said I had to eat meat to get protein.  They said I wouldn’t get enough protein if I don’t eat it.”

(In my head:  “WTF???”)

So we had a talk about how she didn’t eat all that much meat to begin with so it’s not like she was getting an abundant amount of protein from that anyway - and that she was probably getting MORE protein now because she actually eats the soy products I prepare for her.  She was so upset that she had eaten the fish.  I asked her if she felt bad that she ate it and she said yes.  I tried to make her feel better by telling her it was no big deal, that she could figure this out over time.  The thing is, she will do ANYTHING to make her father happy.  Truly.  She will sacrifice every ounce of herself for him.  So if he says he wants her to eat meat, she will eat it even if she doesn’t want to.  Then she’ll call me and cry over it. 

I am far more liberal than my ex-husband and that is a big issue between us.  I also believe that he purposely chooses the opposite opinion from mine every single time we need to agree on something…but that’s a whole other issue that I can’t even begin to go into here.  So while I think our daughter is asserting her independence, and making what could be a lifelong decision about her food choices; he thinks she is still a child who needs to be told what to eat.

I know what some of you are probably thinking:  talk to him about it.  I would love to be able to.  I really would.  Unfortunately, he is just not open to that.  I have tried - believe me, I have tried.  The last time was late last spring.  The kids spend a good part of the summer with him and there were some things I wanted to talk about before the summer began.  I spent hours, literally, on an e-mail.  I worded and re-worded it dozens of times so as not to offend.  The reply I got was “I will need time to respond to this, I don’t want to be hasty in my response”.  And I never heard anything again.  He thinks if he ignores me, he can continue to do what he wants.

So, what do I do about this?  I told the Postman what I WANT to do is fill a cooler with soy burgers and soy dogs, and all the soy/veggie products I know she likes and hand it to him when I drop them off next time.  It’s not rocket science - when he throws their beef burgers on the grill, throw on a veggie burger for her.  When they have baked chicken, cook one of her veggie bundles in the oven at the same time.  It takes so little effort and it shows her that we will support her decisions.  Maybe this won’t stick - maybe she will decide she loves double cheeseburgers too much to give in to her belief of ethical treatment of animals.  Only time will tell.  But for something so important to her right now, would it kill him to be a little more supportive and a little less controlling?

For the record, I stocked up on soy at the grocery store today.

One hoodie, one fleece coat, a scarf, gloves, and a fleece blanket.

For baseball outside on the first day of May.

O, wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
~Percy Bysshe Shelley

Here’s what I have for you today.

Miley Cyrus poses for Vanity Fair.

4056 US deaths in Iraq.

Which one have you heard more about in the last 24 hours?

Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime.  ~Ernest Hemingway

Dear Dunkin’ Donuts,

One hour and 5 minutes for 3 bagel sandwiches is highly unreasonable.  I understand you run out of things sometimes - although on a Sunday morning?  Really?  You couldn’t predict you’d be busy on a Sunday morning at 10:00AM?  Ok…I’ll drive to the OTHER Dunkin’ Donuts in town.  Except, well even though they weren’t out of anything, they weren’t especially speedy.  Customer Service doesn’t seem to be a priority for you so as much as I love your product, I think you’ll find me at Tim Horton’s from now on.

Sincerely,

A disgruntled customer

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Dear Target,

I didn’t mean to shop lift.  Truly, I didn’t.  The fact that I’ve spent about $150 at your store in the last several days should indicate that I didn’t mean to walk out without paying for the $1.49 shoelaces.

I must have been holding them in the same hand as my keys, and when I needed both hands to help my son pick out a new baseball glove I put my keys - and the laces - in my pocket.  When we got home, I was mortified to find them when I reached into my pocket.

The thing is?  I live 40 minutes away from you.  At $3.57 a gallon, driving back to pay for the laces seems somewhat absurd.  But I believe in karma, so what I’m going to do is make an extra charitable donation this month.  Deal?  Good.  Thanks for understanding.

Sincerely,

A most apologetic customer (who loves Target WAY more than Wal-hell*)

*Stolen Borrowed from Morgan.

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Dear Postman,

You rock.  Thank you for putting together the Captain’s pitch back, and tightly strapping his new glove.  I spent 5 years doing all of that by myself (not always with great results!) and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it when you help my kids with things like that.  I know they appreciate it, too.

I love you more,

Me

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Dear Captain and Diva,

I missed you!  I am glad you had a nice time with your dad, but I am also glad you are home! 

Love you lots,

Mom

To send a letter is a good way to go somewhere without moving anything but your heart.  ~Phyllis Theroux

Recently I had someone ask me if the woman she had seen me with was my “real mother”. The Postman beat me to the answer with “No, it’s JUST her mother.”

I cannot tell you how much that question pisses.me.off.

First off, my mother and I are NOT bff’s. Never were. Never will be. A lot happened in my childhood and adolescence that I wish never had. Without divulging too much information, I’ll just say that it probably wasn’t intentional and she couldn’t help some of it. It’s still painful even with that knowledge.

HOWEVER:

It was her who stood at the end of the driveway on my first day of school, and many thereafter, waving to me as I was whisked away on the bus. It was her who braided my hair every.single.day. until second grade when I got it cut short like Dorothy Hamill.

It was her who drove me to countless softball practices and games and became a Girl Scout Troop Leader.

It was her who held my hair back the first time I got drunk and sick when I got the flu.

She helped me buy a car when I was 16. She helped pay for college. She adores her grandchildren.

So while she is not my biological mother, she is my REAL mother. So stop asking such stupid questions, mmkay?

It’s not easy being a mother. If it were easy, fathers would do it. ~From the television show The Golden Girls

Have you read about this yet? Have you seen all the pictures?

Admittedly, I have only seen one picture and the headline that accompanied it. It’s a picture of Rosie O’Donnell with her oldest son. She has a stern look on her face and she has a hold on her son - I believe she is holding on to his t-shirt. He is back to, so his face is not visible. The headline reads “Abusive Rosie bullies son, 12.”

Man oh man.

I am guessing these “journalists” are not parents. Because let me just tell you, as the mother of a 12 year old girl, if they are using these pictures as evidence of abuse, I know about 500 parents who “abuse” their children. Fortunately for them, they do not have paparazzi there to capture every.single.moment. of their lives.

My daughter makes me so angry sometimes that I need to leave the room or ask her to leave the room. She can be rude, mean, selfish, and nasty. She is 12. She has hormones raging through her body, and she has no idea that the world doesn’t revolve around her. I remind her, that’s one of my jobs as a parent. Does that make me a bully? No. I think it makes me a great mom. My children are learning respect, self control, and common courtesy. Sometimes I need to be stern to get their attention.

My daughter - in fits of self-absorption - has turned to walk away as I am in the middle of speaking to her. You better believe she does not get away with that. Have I ever grabbed her t-shirt as Rosie appears to be doing in that picture? I don’t know for sure, but I bet I have. I may have even grabbed her arm to stop her from walking away.

For a magazine to publish those pictures with that headline accompanying it is shameful, irresponsible, and more damaging to that boy than anything his parents could do. His friends are going to see and read that. His teachers, community members, and well…the entire free world are also going to see it. One of my children’s fears is that, if necessary, I will reprimand them in front of their friends, my friends, or our family. It is mortifying to them. Now that poor boy has his picture splashed on the front of a magazine so the entire world can see him being reprimanded by his mother.

Bullying? No. Not by his mother anyway - but by a big corporation that will sacrifice the well being of a child in exchange for a few bucks.

I never had a policy; I have just tried to do my very best each and every day. ~Abraham Lincoln

I’ve been kinda in my mid-winter funk lately so I decided to write a few things I’m thankful for to remind myself that it ain’t all so bad. Here we go!

1. My kids
2. The Postman
3. Hot coffee
4. Spaceheaters
5. Tax returns
6. Fleece socks and blankets (anyone see a trend? It’s cold here today!)
7. Vaseline Intensive Care Cocoa Butter Oil Gel
8. Yummy smelling shower gel
9. Washers and dryers
10. Crockpots
11. My friend Jen who “prettifies” me
12. Heart Shaped frosted sugar cookies
13. The library
14. Allergy medication
15. Someone that plows our driveway for us
16. Being able to work from home
17. iPods
18. Freedom
19. Sunny days (even if they are COLD!)
20. Swiffer vacuums

Gratitude is the memory of the heart. ~Jean Baptiste Massieu, translated from French

Santa is bringing a Wii for Christmas this year.

This weekend, my children went to their father’s house to celebrate Christmas with him and his family. They called me yesterday morning to tell me what their father had gotten them. A Wii.

The conversation took place on my cell phone as P-Man and I were out doing errands.

“Hi Mom! Guess what Dad got us for Christmas?!”

“What , honey?”

“A Wii!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“A Wii?” (with slightly less enthusiasm now) as I look over at P-Man who mouths the word FUCK. Yeah, my thoughts exactly.

I love Christmas. I was so excited to give them the Wii. We planned ahead, knowing they might be in short supply again this year, and we’ve had it hidden at P-Man’s mother’s house since late September or so. Excitement? Not so much now. I will probably hear something like “How come Santa didn’t know Dad already got us one?”.

Well, because Santa and Dad don’t communicate well. Oh, we get along ok - we don’t fight. But we don’t go out of our way to keep each other informed either. In my defense, I have tried over the years but it’s rather like banging my head against a brick wall. Since that gets old after a while, I have stopped. So I am mad at myself for not trying harder, and I am mad at him for not trying at all. Both of the kids also want Nintendo DS games systems. If we had communicated better, one of us could have gotten the Wii and one of us could have gotten the Nintendos.

I was pretty upset and P-Man tried so hard to make me feel better. When we got home he immediately got online ato see if there were any available Nintendos - supposedly there are some in stock at our local Walmart. He wanted to go purchase them right away, but I said no. Can you even imagine? Two Wiis, Nintendo’s, AND iPods for each of them? Plus…all the “smaller” gifts and clothes, etc. No way. I wanted to return the Wii and get the Nintendos but he still wants to keep the Wii for all of us here. So we’re leaving it as it is. Two Wiis - one at each house.

Now I know that in the whole scheme of things, this is a pretty good problem to have. We are so very fortunate to have the means to provide these types of things for our kids. There are kids who want a Wii and won’t get one because there aren’t any available. There are kids who won’t get anything for Christmas. There are kids who are cold and hungry, right here in our country as I sit and type this in my warm house with my hot coffee on my desk. I know this.

But I’m still a little disappointed and some of the excitement is gone.

Open your presents at Christmastime but be thankful year round for the gifts you receive. ~Lorinda Ruth Lowen