School, 1958 vs 2008

Scenario: Jack goes quail hunting before school, pulls into school parking lot with shotgun in gun rack.
1957 - Vice Principal comes over, looks at Jack's shotgun, goes to his car and gets his shotgun to show Jack.
2007 - School goes into lock down, FBI called, Jack hauled off to jail and never sees his truck or gun again. Counsellors called in for traumatized students and teachers.

Scenario: Johnny and Mark get into a fistfight after school.
1957 - Crowd gathers. Mark wins. Johnny and Mark shake hands and end up buddies.
2007 - Police called, SWAT team arrives, arrests Johnny and Mark. Charge them with assault, both expelled even though Johnny started it.

Scenario: Jeffrey won't be still in class, disrupts other students.
1957 - Jeffrey sent to office and given a good paddling by the Principal. Returns to class, sits still and does not disrupt class again.
2007 - Jeffrey given huge doses of Ritalin. Becomes a zombie. Tested for ADD. School gets extra money from state because Jeffrey has a disability.

Scenario: Billy breaks a window in his neighbour's car and his Dad gives him a whipping with his belt.
1957 - Billy is more careful next time, grows up normal, goes to college, and becomes a successful businessman.
2007 - Billy's dad is arrested for child abuse. Billy removed to foster care and joins a gang. State psychologist tells Billy's sister that she remembers being abused herself and their dad goes to prison. Billy's mom has affair with psychologist.

Scenario: Mark gets a headache and takes some aspirin to school.
1957 - Mark shares aspirin with Principal out on the smoking dock.
2007 - Police called, Mark expelled from school for drug violations. Car searched for drugs and weapons.

Scenario: Pedro fails high school English.
1957 - Pedro goes to summer school, passes English, goes to college.
2007 - Pedro's cause is taken up by state. Newspaper articles appear nationally explaining that teaching English as a requirement for graduation is racist. ACLU files class action lawsuit against state school system and Pedro's English teacher. English banned from core curriculum. Pedro given diploma anyway but ends up mowing lawns for a living because he cannot speak English.

Scenario: Johnny takes apart leftover firecrackers from 4th of July, puts them in a model airplane, blows up a red ant bed.
1957 - Ants die.
2007 - BATF, Homeland Security, FBI called. Johnny charged with domestic terrorism, FBI investigates parents, siblings removed from home, computers confiscated, Johnny's Dad goes on a terror watch list and is never allowed to fly again.

Scenario: Johnny falls while running during recess and scrapes his knee. He is found crying by his teacher, Mary. Mary hugs him to comfort him.
1957 - In a short time, Johnny feels better and goes on playing.
2007 - Mary is accused of being a sexual predator and loses her job. She faces 3 years in State Prison. Johnny undergoes 5 years of therapy.

Happy freaking birthday

My birthday is tomorrow. I have plans to eat at the Melting Pot with my SIL and invited my mother to go (God knows why.) The first thing out of her mouth was "How late are we going to be there?" She calls today to ask if she can take me to lunch. I remind her my dad is driving up, an hour and a half, to take me to lunch and to look at washers and dryers (for him, his 1970's models finally gave in.) I'm also going to see if I can find something nice to wear to dinner since I've been living in yoga pants and t shirts. Maternity clothes are either expensive or ugly. This is when my mother chooses to have a tantrum. I remind her the deal was that I was going to lunch with Dad and to dinner with her. She says her and her husband need to go mow my grandmothers lawn. Fine. Go mow the damn grass. Never mind that my worthless cousin lives next door and shares the same grass. Lord forbid she have to mow it. Really, I could care less if my mother shows up. I invited her only b/c listening to her bitch about not being invited is somewhat more painful than having flaming toothpicks shoved in my ears. Now she's upset b/c I refuse to change my reservations to an earlier time. I tried to explain that after lunch and shopping that I'd like to come home and shower and get ready before going out to eat. I hate rushing almost as much as I hate being late. Besides, it's my birthday. Then she points out I didn't call her in her birthday last year. I did call. Five times. She never picked up and never called me back. Aside from that she is the mother, I am the child. At some point she stopped caring about that. Every conversation I have with her remindsme how selfish and narcissistic she is. I keep blaming her. Question is, when am I going to learn that I cannot control anyone's actions but my own. I have to find a way to stop caring so much that she doesn't care. I'm having a new baby and raising a very sweet little boy, as well as nurturing a marriage to a wonderful man. I don't need toxic people in my life.

Perfect love

Is when your three year old boy brings you in the most impossibly small purple flower, gives you a kiss, and says "I love you Mommy!" Life is good.

Mixed Religions

was raised Catholic. I was also raised to respect other's views and have, through out my life, formed varying opinions on organized religion. I still go to mass (though we go on Sat nights) and Remi was Christened in a Catholic church.

A few weeks ago MIL took Remi to her church on Wed evening. He's been several times since, and I've always let him go if she asks to take him. I do want him to be exposed to other religions.

Yesterday, for Mother's Day she asked us to go to church with her. I agreed (though DH refused.) It was Mother's Day. The leader (they don't give them titles for some reason) could have spoken about Mary. He could have chosen a topic about a Mother's love, the role of Mother's in raising children. ANY number of topics about Mom's. He chose, instead, to do a sermon about how all of the churches that call themselves non denominational (except of course for their's) is misleading and essentially wrong in all of their beliefs. He referred to the Bible for ONE verse in which James refers to the gathering as The Church and the rest was essentially his opinion. He also spoke about how those who attended churches that proclaimed a certain denomination (mentioning specifically Methodist and Baptist) were "misled" and "misconstruing the word of Christ."

Now, as I said, I don't think any one religion is right or wrong (though I have my issues with some of the more extreme) but I was just appalled at this sermon. I certainly don't want my child going to a church who is telling him his mother is going to h*ll b/c she's Catholic. I don't want to alienate MIL since DH and FIL own a business together and MIL keeps Remi for 2 hours in the morning while I work. I also have very strong feelings on letting him go back to this church. I have no idea how to handle this!

Me too

We tried so hard to make things better for our kids that we made them worse. For my grandchildren, I'd like better.


I'd really like for them to know about hand me down clothes and homemade ice cream and leftover meat loaf sandwiches. I really would.



I hope you learn humility by being humiliated, and that you learn honesty by being cheated.


I hope you learn to make your own bed and mow the lawn and wash the car.
And I really hope nobody gives you a brand new car when you are sixteen.



It will be good if at least one time you can see puppies born and your old dog put to sleep.



I hope you get a black eye fighting for something you believe in.



I hope you have to share a bedroom with your younger brother. And it's all right if you have to draw a line down the middle of the room,but when he wants to crawl under the covers with you because he's scared, I hope you let him.



When you want to see a movie and your little sister wants to tag along, I hope you'll let her.

I hope you have to walk uphill to school with your friends and that you live in a town where you can do it safely.
On rainy days when you have to catch a ride, I hope you don't ask your driver to drop you two blocks away so you won't be seen riding with someone as uncool as your Mom.



If you want a slingshot, I hope your Dad teaches you how to make one instead of buying one.

I hope you learn to dig in the dirt and read books.



When you learn to use computers, I hope you also learn to add and subtract in your head.



I hope you get teased by your friends when you have your first crush on a boy/girl, and when you talk back to your mother that you learn what ivory soap tastes like.



May you skin your knee climbing a mountain, burn your hand on a stove and stick your tongue on a frozen flagpole.



I don't care if you try a beer once, but I hope you don't like it.. And if a friend offers you dope or a joint, I hope you realize he is not your friend.



I sure hope you make time to sit on a porch with your Grandma/Grandpa and go fishing with your Uncle.



May you feel sorrow at a funeral and joy during the holidays.



I hope your mother punishes you when you throw a baseball through your neighbor's window and that she hugs you and kisses you at Hannukah/Christmas time when you give her a plaster mold of your hand.


*The above is from an email and is credited to Paul Harvey

Daddy's Rules for Dating

My dad sent this to me in an email. Ahh flashbacks to high school.....

Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up.

Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them..

Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.

Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a 'Barrier method' of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is: 'early.'

Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process than can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge . Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual themes are to be avoided; movies which feature chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi . When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit the car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.

Is there enough room?

See those boys up there? They are my life. I woke up this morning snuggled between my husband and my son and I thought, "Could this get any more perfect?" And then I starting wondering about the decision we've made to have another. Would there be room? Everything is so perfect. Will another baby double that joy? Or create havoc?

I'm an only child. I have no idea what it's like to have a sibling or to raise two children. The relationship between siblings is an enigma to me. I see how close my cousins are and how close Ed's and his brother are but the depth of that relationship elludes me.

I don't want Remi to be an only child. But part of me wonders if I'm ever going to be able to understand. Will I love Number Two as much as I do Remi? Will Remi accept a new baby? Will they be best friends or enemies?

The love I have for my son takes my breath away. There is nothing I wouldn't do to keep him safe and happy. My world would end with out him. I would be a worthless shell of a person. Is it possible that, with another child, that love will double? Or will it some how take away from my sweet boy?

I never imagined that the love of my life would wear safty goggles and a cape. I certainly hope that when I do get pregnant that he'll be as excited as we will be. And that we all learn that there is no capacity limit of love.

Broken filter

My dad has always told me that God forgot to install the filter bewtween my brain and my mouth. My internal filter is beyond repair. You wnat butt pats you've coem to the wrong palce. Which means if you come to me whining for advice I will give it to you, uncensored and unrrated. If you then shoot down Every. Single. Suggestion I make with some lame excuse be prepared. I will tell you that it isn't your husband's fault your marriage is in the shitter. The man TOLD you exactly what he needed and you continued to ignore him. You made excuses about conflicting schedules and kids that get "upset" about going to bed early and about how you don't want to go outside and do things becasue its cooooooooooold. Guess what? We he leaves your whining excuses to find a woman that will LISTEN to him, you will get no sympathy from me. Men are simple. If you've already had sex, make him a damn sandwich. Put the kid to bed early no matter how pissed she gets. Better to have a slighty mad 2 year old than to be a single mother. You have a husband who cares enough to tell you what he needs changed (and has reasonable requests) and didn't just immediatly try to replace your bitchy ass (I wouldn't have blamed him.)

It comes down to one thing- The best gift you can give your child is to love her father. He is not there only to pay bills and make sperm donations. He has needs and feelings and he's TRYING for God's sake. Try with him!!! And stop whinign to me. I ran out of cheese ages ago.

Past the expiration date

I met my best friend in birthing class. Her daughter is 6 days younger than Remington. He husband is a major in the Air Force and makes excellent money (this will matter in a moment.) She is a stay at home mom. She's a bit of a hippy. He is clean cut, anal retentive military. They fight all the time. They parent differently. No, not differently. They parent like they are from different planets.

They fight. Loudly and frequently. This increased once they had a child. A baby only amplified their differences. Four months ago she had consulted an attorney and was looking for an apartment. Then, later, I told her Ed and I had decided to have another child. Getting pregnant isn't easy for me. It takes time, fertility treatments and lots of face to hoo hoo time with my OB. No really, I'm not bitter.

Recently she she decided to get knocked up. He thinks it was an accident. Financially they are secure so this isn't devastating news to him. He takes it in stride. She thinks if she is pregnant he will be nice to her. She was wrong. A month ago I tell her about the appointment with my reproductive endocrinologist. The next week she tells me she decided to get pregnant. Yesterday she tells me that they are still Fighting and she thinks she should have an abortion. Did you hear my jaw hit the floor? She terminated one pregnancy in her early twenties so I know she's capable of it.

Let's review- Me, trying to have a child while allowing many strangers to invade my reproductive organs. She- aware that I'm fighting to get pregnant. Disregarding my feelings and admitting she got pregnant on purpose to trap her husband and then telling me that it didn't work so now she thinks she should terminate.

I think this friendship is past it's expiration date. Not only am I fiercely pro life getting pregnant to "fix" anything is the most ignorant thing I've heard in a long time. I'm speechless.

You have GOT to be kidding me.

I've always said that if you want to feel better about your parenting, go to Wal Mart. I dislike Wal Mart. Strongly dislike. Really. Hate. Wal Mart. I find it disturbing that in one store I can buy transmission fluid, peanut butter, and a blonde wig. However when you need puff pastry at 7 pm your options are limited. So off I go.

I'm not a big shopper. I don't do nay shopping unless I need something. I'm a get in, get out kinda gal. So I bee line to the pastry and bee line for the check out line. As I'm standing there a woman (dressed to the nines) and her 4ish year old daughter get behind me. I notice this cute little girl is wearing an adorable little purple track suit and as I'm wishing my next baby is of the female variety the little girl turn to her mama. And on her butt the word FLIRT is proudly embroidered. I about choked on my gum.

This country has more than our fair share of child predators. What kind of bubble headed idiot woman with half a brain decides to put her fourfreakingyear old child on display?!? Why for the love of all that is holy would you give anyone any reason to look at your toddler's rear end? I'm 25 years old and I don't even want strange men looking at MY ass. I catch some perv checking out my four year old and he's going to get to meet Mr. Walther up close and freaking personal because I will shoot his ass.

The depths that this society has sunk to baffle me. First some name brand company has the audacity to market thong underwear to 7 year olds. Then a middle school decides to prescribe birth control pills to 11-13 year old. Now toddlers are wearing suggestive phrases on their posterior.

Where are the parents? That little girl certainly didn't purchase that outfit herself. You'd be hard pressed to convince me her grandmother bought it. If I tried to dress my child that way my husband would set me straight in a heart beat. What was that woman thinking? Or was she thinking at all?

My son is almost three. I'm petrified to think about what kind of girls he's going be going to high school with. Hopefully by the grace of God and some good parenting he'll turn out to be a good kid. But it's going to take some seriously hard work to compete with what I'm up against.

Things they are a changin. I hope with everything I'm worth that there are more parents out there who think like my husband and I and that maybe, just maybe, we can hold off the evil forces that surround us for a few more generations.

The first one was easy

Ed and I started trying to get pregnant as soon as we closed on our house. It took several months of trying and fertility treatments to get that way but it (obviously) happened. I had an easy pregnancy and, despite the c section, a pretty easy delivery and recovery. Remington was a pretty easy baby after the fist 6 weeks. He had "colic" which I'm certain is pediatrician speak for "He's crying a lot and we don't know why but we have to tell you something to justify what we're charging you."

Now he'll be 3 in January and is the most amazingly intelligent little boy. Last week, while standing in line to check out, I made him hold my hand because he wouldn't stay with in a comfortable distance from me. He looks at me and says "If you keep making me hold your hand we're going to have serious issues." A few days later he asks if he can use my highlighter. I reminded him that we only draw on paper and he says "We've already had this conversation." This kid has perfect enunciation on top of it which makes it all the more hilarious.


I adore my son and I'd do anything for him. He's just a really cool little man.

I am an only child. It's never bothered me. My husband is the youngest of five, three boys and two girls. He speaks to one of his brothers regularly and they're pretty close. As for his other three siblings, well he doesn't have much use for them.

Lately we've been talking about the possibility of having a second child. I'm afraid that, because I don't know what it's like to have a sibling, that I may choose not to have a second child and be robbing Remi of something really great. But then I look at my husband and his sisters and I think "What if they hate each other?"

The choice to get pregnant the first time was the an easy one. This time I'm struggling. I'm not opposed to another baby but I'm not all gung ho about it either. And that makes me feel guilty. I mean shouldn't I be really excited about it before we start trying?

It will be next summer before any decisions are made. It's not that I'm not ready. Financially and emotionally we're prepared. It just doesn't seem like a pressing matter. I keep thinking that maybe one day I'll just know it's the right time. And I know that having a baby so that Rem has someone to play with is a ridiculous reason. Right?

If we started trying next June, Remi would be at least 4 and maybe 5 by the time I gave birth. Is that a good age difference? Is it too much? Can one of you just tell me what to do so I can stop obsessing?

The joy of discovery

So Stinker is 2 1/2 and is discovering new stuff every second. He's already the size of a 5 year old (literally at 42.5 lbs and 43 inches) and this kid has a vocabulary that will floor you. He uses words like ludicrous and ridiculous and in the correct context even. He also has a look and a tone of voice that makes most grown adults feel stupid. He is my child.
So tonight he's taking his shower. He hates baths so I stand him in the shower and wash him then leave him to his own devices (with everything soap like out of reach and while checking on him often) and that's just what we did this evening. So I'm in the next room checking email and I hear this "Mommy mommy mommmy....." in an alarmed high pitch screech. So up I go into the bathroom and I pull back the curtain to find my son butt naked on his tiptoes, yelping and dancing around the water spray like a rabid dog. He looks at me with the most sincere look and says "That's water's freaking cold!" That's my boy.
I wondered how long it was going to take him to find the Cold and Hot controls. Thankfully he turned off the hot water instead of the other way around.

Girly men

I work with alot of men. Out of 400+ employees there may be three dozen women. Most of the guys I come in direct contact with are under thirty. And I've noticed some disturbing trends- blonde highlights, plucked eyebrows, tanning bed overdose, pink shirts, ankle tattoo's, manicures, enough hair gel to fix the Titanic, not to mention the jewelry in every appendage they can poke a hole in. I've never seen a man over 35 dress this way. At least not one that wasn't getting paid to tour. I could never in a million years date a guy that took longer to get ready than I do.

And can I just mention that a man putting his 28 inch waist into 42 waist pants is as bad as a a woman who tries to squeeze a size 14 butt into a size 6 six pant. For God sakes pull up your damn pants. And what's with the outdated wallet chains? It looks like your dog jumped into your back pocket.

My husband is a jeans and t-shirt guy. For special occasions he may substitute a polo shirt or a button up for the t-shirt but you ain't gettin him outta those jeans. Thankfully this is Oklahoma and no one cares. I think I've seen him in khakis twice in 6 years. He would also die before he let you put gel, mousse or dye in his hair. I think he'd cut his head completely off before you got close. As he puts it "that's women stuff." Manicures and pink shirts are so far out of his realm of reality I'm not even sure he'd know what you were talking about.

So where are all the "real" men? The ones who still change their own oil and can rescue me if I have a flat (yes I CAN change it but I'd rather not.)The ones who would protect my honor in a bar and drink beer instead of something in a hurricane glass. Where are the men who hold doors open and help me with my coat?

I could almost understand these failings from a kid of 18 or 19 (not that I would excuse it but I know how teenagers are) but by the time you hit 26 you should have a basic grasp of how treat a woman.

But that makes me think that maybe it's because women aren't the same. Women my age are mostly promiscuous, not very bright, and far from independent. If they aren't demanding respect from these guys then it's no wonder men have gotten so self absorbed.

I just sincerly hope that this is a trend and that thee are other women out there besides my self who are raising their sons to be respectful men. And who will point out to him that maybe a manacurist's chair isn't the best place to pick up a chick.

Surviving Motherhood

“It is said that only a fool learns from his own mistakes, a wise man from the mistakes of others.” But how are you supposed to learn from the mistakes of others if no one wants to admit to making them? As a mother, you are expected to appear perfect, a sort of Stepford Mother if you will. To always present to the public the image of a well put together woman of an acceptable age, with well behaved children that politely a respond to your every request with, “Yes Mother.” If this sort of world actually exists, it is in some parallel universe far removed from my own.

Realistically you will spend the first four months of your pregnancy vomiting, and the remaining months reading every piece of available published information on how to properly raise a child. Then you give birth and realize that all of those authors couldn’t possibly have had time to write those books if they actually had a child. For those that fall just short of perfect, I offer some tips.

Tip1- There is little reasoning with a toddler. The first year or so isn’t bad. You can put the child down and rest assured that he will be within ten feet or so of where you left him. Sometime in the second year, the Earth tilts on its axis and your sweet cuddly baby turns into a toddler. They gain the ability to say odd things such as “I don’t want to!” or “I don’t have to!” and my favorite, “You can’t make me!” If you’re a normal parent your first reaction is to retort with “You wanna bet?” But in the world of Stepford Mothers, that is utterly unacceptable. To fit into the role of Perfect Mother, you are expected to reason with the child.

You cannot reason with a person who thinks it’s totally acceptable to eat things like gravel or roly-poly’s. If you saw a grown man trying to put mayonnaise on a cat or see how many crayons he could shove down the drain you would assume he was insane. You would not attempt to carry on a polite, reasonable conversation. To attempt to do so with a toddler is right up there with trying to convince Michael Moore that capitalism is the best form of economic system. It just isn’t happening. So the next time your young child tells you that they will not be taking a bath this evening, remember that for the first few years you have two options- stand your ground or give in.

Tip 2- Pick your battles. A wise man once said, “Pick battles big enough to matter, but small enough to win.” Got a kid that insists on eating nothing but spaghetti? It is a phase and I’m certain that spaghetti hasn’t ever killed anyone. In less than a week the novelty will wear off and you’ll realize how much easier it was when they didn’t insist on having nineteen options for dinner. Is your seven year old of the opinion that brushing her teeth is unnecessary? This is one you’re going to want to hold your ground on. If more convincing is needed than a good old “Because I said so,” I’ve found that a quick web search for Periodontal Disease will elicit some pretty convincing photos.

Tip 3- Always write down the more obscure things that you’re forced to say. I assure you that in a month it will be funny. Things like “Daddy’s shotgun press is not a good juicer. Please put the limes back in the fridge,” aren’t nearly as funny when you’re mopping up half a cup of lime juice as they will be in a week when you’re telling the story to your girlfriends over a margarita. If you find yourself uttering things like “We do not put wooden spoons up the dog’s butt!” or ”Ketchup is a condiment, not a lubricant for tricycle wheels!” you are not alone and, more importantly, no matter how much you doubt it you are still mostly sane.

Tip 4- If you did not have a strong stomach before motherhood, you will quickly develop one. If you find something disgusting stuck on odd surfaces do not attempt to discover its true identity. Get one of the new handy, pre moistened germ killing cloths and remove the offending material to the trash can. If you find a mysterious wet spot on the carpet just mop it up and go on with your day. If your sink is clogged and you suddenly remember your child was alone in the bathroom at some point, go buy the strongest chemical known to man intended for unclogging the sink. Pour the desired amount down the drain and pray. Most importantly if one of your young children should ever utter the words, “Mom, I don’t feel good,” don’t stop to ask what’s wrong. Just find the closest bathroom.

Tip 5- You will do things once you become a mother that you never dreamed you would do. You will tell rambling stories about your adorable offspring to complete strangers. You will ignore all of the phone calls and household chores when your toddler falls asleep in your lap because it’s the only time he’s still enough for you to hold him. You will stop watching the news when a story about a missing, murdered, or kidnapped child is on because no matter what that child looks like you only see your daughter’s face. You will start to fear busy parking lots. Jungle gyms will seem much higher and you will learn there are a thousand totally different ways to fall off a bicycle. You will realize you are truly a mother when you catch vomit in your bare hands so it won’t hit the new carpet.

Just remember when you see mothers out in public who look as though they’ve managed to raise the Perfect Family, that you are comparing the outside of their family to the inside of yours. No matter what social pressure is put on you remember that at some point every mother is faced with a situation that makes you want to laugh, cry and strangle your precious child all at the same time. No one tells you that the feeling you’ll have most often after love, is guilt. As long as you remember that their childhood is going to be harder on you than it is on them, you’ll make it through. Someday I promise it will all be funny. Or at the very least will make for a few wonderfully embarrassing stories to tell their future spouse

To all the well meaning people who don't own my uterus

If you, for some g*d forsaken reason, feel the need to discuss with someone you barely know the number of children she's chosen to have the least you can do is respect her decision.
Now that rugrat is almost 2 1/2 that does not mean "it's time for another." And when I reply "Oh no, he's it." do not take that as an invitation to convince me otherwise. First of all having another child so that the one I have will have a playmate is one of the most idiotic reasons to conceive. If he needs someone to play with I'll take him to the playground or buy him a dog.
Second of all don't assume all only children are miserable. I'm an only child and have always been ecstatic about it. Also it's unfair to assume that those with siblings are happy. My husband is the youngest of five (3 boys, 2 girls) and wouldn't spit on his sisters if they were on fire. He only speaks to one of his brothers with any regularity and has only seen his other brother twice in 4 years. So just b/c you're close with your siblings doesn't mean that others are as well.
Also you might want to consider that some of us don't really want more children than we can afford. You aren't doing anyone any favors by forgoing the birth control and letting the rest of us taxpayers support your "gifts." If we had another child my son probably wouldn't wearing the clothes he wears or have a living room that looks like Toys 'R Us threw up. And for those of you who say money can't by happiness I say you've either never been broke or you haven't been in a public high school lately. Kids are mean, besides I'm much happier knowing I can comfortably pay my electric bill. My husband makes decent money and we put a fair amount into savings. I'd like to keep it that way.
Lastly you might want to think twice about broaching the subject of more children until you have the whole story. I spent several thousand dollars and 18 painful months hoping that I could get pregnant and dealing with the awful side effects of fertility drugs. And when I finally did get pregnant I spent the first 12 weeks hoping that this one would stick. Not to mention the months of reflux and the 18 staples it took to close up my emergency cesarean. I'd rather not live through that hell again.
I'd never begrudge anyone children if they really want them. Though I might have some disdain if you have 4 kids with 3 different men and never have any electric to heat the house with. So for the love of Pete have the same respect for those of us who choose to have small families.
The easiest decision I have ever made was only to have one child.

Hung up wet

School is kicking my butt. I'm almost certain I'll never take more than one summer class ever again.
My child will be 2 1/2 on July 6th and he's driving me nuts. Seriously. Maybe saying that makes me the Bad Parent of the Year but at this point I'm too tired to care. In order to get any studying done I have to ship him to his grandma's, which he loves, but makes me feel guilty. Why is it that no one tells you before you have kids that the feeling you get the most after love is guilt?
He's taken to whining. I HATE whining. I can handle screaming better that whining. And I have no idea how to make him knock it off. I don't even know if he knows he's doing it.
My husband is acting like a 2 year old. He has these little tantrums. I don't deal with 35 year old men who throw tantrums. If he wants to have his little hissy fits it's fine, but he can do it on his own time. I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to put up with his crap before I blow my top. I'm starting to think I'm not cut out to be married. I may be too damn independent and not nearly patient enough. And between trying to balance school, my child and the household crap I don't have the desire or the energy to try and change my personality now. Besides I like who I am. The issue is I don't give a damn if anyone else does.
Thanks to my mother and her incessant nitpicking I also feel awful b/c my house isn't spotless. It isn't dirty per say, just cluttered. I'm starting to think if I have to clean my house to have you over, I just don't want you in my house.
Alright I'm done bitching for a minute. But it's only 11 am, still plenty of time for things to go to hell. I also feel guilty for bitching at all when I know there are people out there who have it way worse than I do. But I still get to have bad days right?