Hi, February! I've 15 minutes before class begins, so I'm gonna make this super snappy.
SUPER SNAPPY!! SNAP SNAP!
News: We're having a baby! In October! Totally excited to the max.
Also, school is NUTS! I'm afraid I won't get it all done, and that is what I have been doing with my time, between vomiting every meal I eat and sleeping more than I've ever slept in my life. Writing papers and more papers. I still have four to go, two due next month and two the month after, but then GRADUATION IN MAY! WOOOOOOOOO HOOOO!
Ok, for real, someone remind me to bliggity blog a little more, yeah? Yeah. Gotta go to class.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
The Morning of Hilarity and Love
Sometimes I wake up in the morning after a bout of insomnia and feel overwhelming love and affection for my family. This is one of those days, and it's only gotten better since. Except the part where I walked 15 minutes in the rain from the parking lot to my class building this morning only to find, the instant that I stepped on the wet pavement, that my shoe has a hole in the bottom. I wish it had a whole bottom. You see what I did there? Hello, Wet Sock! You are the bane of my existence, and I will now have to tolerate you for the next 8 hours!
So, I woke up this morning full of love for my wonderful husband and my two little stepdudes, and today...it was POAS day! The day when I find out if I get to have THREE little dudes or two dudes and a little lady? chick? girlfriend? (If I have a girl, I will need an equally awesome nickname to call her on this blog. Be thinking on that, loyal readers.) Anyway, I peed on the stick, and it was negative. Boo hoo for me, but totally whatever because we will keep trying again Dori style.
Great. Now I'm going to have Ellen DeGeneres stuck in my head the whole time we are trying next time. At least she swings my way, so it's not a total loss. Tricia Kincaid, the creator of my current Mary Kay skin care regime, once told me that I should not forget to moisturize my throat, or else I will look like Ellen forever. Now I can't look at her without thinking "throat of destruction" and then thinking about Tricia. Now I will add babymaking to my ever growing list of DeGeneres association. Sweet.
The Little Man was INFINITELY hilarious in the car this morning.
Driving in the rain: "Stop, rain, or I will punch you in the face!"
Big Man (matter of fact): "Please. Rain doesn't have a face."
Little Man: "Pfffffft! Yes. It does! It's right there on the side of the drop. I'll punch it there."
He gets the "punch inanimate objects in the face" gene from me. It's not genetic. It's sponge-etic.
"Karen, are we going to a different school next year?"
Me: "Yes, buddy. You won't have to get up so early, and you can get on the bus at our house instead of having to drive an hour to and from school."
Little Man (clearly alarmed): "But! I won't ever see Jackie S ever again ever! How will I ever find a wife?!?!?!? WHO IS GOING TO BE MY WIFE!!!???"
Apparently we've ruined his marriage.
Lastly, a car on the highway was speeding like crazy, cut me off in the pouring rain, and squeezed himself between two cars to take an exit at the last minute.
Me: "Holy mackerel! That guy almost caused a big accident with his crazy driving!"
Little Man: "If he knows he is breaking the speed limit, then it's a big on purpose."
These days are the best part of my family.
Oh! Also, my brother, Russ, had an interview in the Nuvo yesterday. Pretty flipping cool. You can read it here. CLICK ME AND YOU CAN READ THIS SUPER ARTICLE OF AWESOMESAUCE!
Ya'll should go see him at the Ugly Monkey for the TEN days before the Super Bowl. I'm a proud sister, oh yes.
I have stalled almost long enough to head to class!
So, I woke up this morning full of love for my wonderful husband and my two little stepdudes, and today...it was POAS day! The day when I find out if I get to have THREE little dudes or two dudes and a little lady? chick? girlfriend? (If I have a girl, I will need an equally awesome nickname to call her on this blog. Be thinking on that, loyal readers.) Anyway, I peed on the stick, and it was negative. Boo hoo for me, but totally whatever because we will keep trying again Dori style.
Great. Now I'm going to have Ellen DeGeneres stuck in my head the whole time we are trying next time. At least she swings my way, so it's not a total loss. Tricia Kincaid, the creator of my current Mary Kay skin care regime, once told me that I should not forget to moisturize my throat, or else I will look like Ellen forever. Now I can't look at her without thinking "throat of destruction" and then thinking about Tricia. Now I will add babymaking to my ever growing list of DeGeneres association. Sweet.
The Little Man was INFINITELY hilarious in the car this morning.
Driving in the rain: "Stop, rain, or I will punch you in the face!"
Big Man (matter of fact): "Please. Rain doesn't have a face."
Little Man: "Pfffffft! Yes. It does! It's right there on the side of the drop. I'll punch it there."
He gets the "punch inanimate objects in the face" gene from me. It's not genetic. It's sponge-etic.
"Karen, are we going to a different school next year?"
Me: "Yes, buddy. You won't have to get up so early, and you can get on the bus at our house instead of having to drive an hour to and from school."
Little Man (clearly alarmed): "But! I won't ever see Jackie S ever again ever! How will I ever find a wife?!?!?!? WHO IS GOING TO BE MY WIFE!!!???"
Apparently we've ruined his marriage.
Lastly, a car on the highway was speeding like crazy, cut me off in the pouring rain, and squeezed himself between two cars to take an exit at the last minute.
Me: "Holy mackerel! That guy almost caused a big accident with his crazy driving!"
Little Man: "If he knows he is breaking the speed limit, then it's a big on purpose."
These days are the best part of my family.
Oh! Also, my brother, Russ, had an interview in the Nuvo yesterday. Pretty flipping cool. You can read it here. CLICK ME AND YOU CAN READ THIS SUPER ARTICLE OF AWESOMESAUCE!
Ya'll should go see him at the Ugly Monkey for the TEN days before the Super Bowl. I'm a proud sister, oh yes.
I have stalled almost long enough to head to class!
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
An Open Letter to Parents of Autistic Children
An Open Letter to Parents of Autistic Children:
I've been ruminating on this post for quite some time, so bear with me. Like most of my posts, this one will likely be long, rambling, and not as funny as I think it should be. However, I think it is important.
This blog gets a lot more traffic than the "following" widget shows. While some of my readers land here looking for porn (seriously? nude Aspie?), most people use search terms such as "what to do with my autistic child?" and "will my autistic child be ok?" or variations thereof. I do, invariably, get a little bit of e-mail from people that land here. Some of it is rather rude, but most of it is sent from a place of desperation and a need to feel that everything is going to be all right. This letter is for those parents who feel as though they have an endless struggle on their hands, and they are looking for a little encouragement.
I would like to apologize to you. I cannot tell you that your child is going to be okay. I cannot tell you that he is going to be high functioning. I cannot tell you that your child is a genius inside his silent shell. I can't promise you she will ever speak to you or hug you or be able to wear jeans without melting down. In short, I cannot lie to you. Some of your children will never say "I love you, Mommy." Some of them will never look you in the eyes. Some of them will never move out of your basements. I'm very sorry. On the other side of the coin, some of your children will learn affection, and some of them will soon talk your ears off and some of them will get married and have children of their own and tell stories at Christmas like, "Remember that time that I stood on the kitchen counter and shouted 'Bebo! Bebo!' over and over again because it was the only sound that I used to be able to make?" Some of your children are Albert Einstein or Temple Grandin inside. I wish I could tell you that your little Bert or Gertrude was that person, but I can't. I cannot lie to you, even if you are desperate to hear it.
All I can do here is tell you how I function and how I feel about things and ideas that work for me to keep me functioning on a day-to-day basis. I am but one person with autism, and I'm different from all of the others. Therapy and social training worked for me in ways that it has not worked for others, as we are not all the same.
What I can do is give you a little shimmer of hope. All is not lost. I consider my story a success, and there are many other successes out there as well. Your kid's may be one of them.
I know that a lot of you feel as though your child's diagnosis is a death sentence for your hopes and dreams for your little one. I also know that you can't say that out loud without judgment. If you need to say that, you can say that to me with zero judgment at all, and I can promise you that. That feeling is perfectly ok, and it is perfectly normal, and, for some of you, it is perfectly valid. For others, new dreams will emerge, and for others still, all of the original dreams will still come true.
To conclude, I want you to know that I am here for you, and you can vent to me, but please don't ask me to lie to you. I can't. I respect you and your unique child too much to do so.
With as Much Love as I've Learned to Give,
Karen
I've been ruminating on this post for quite some time, so bear with me. Like most of my posts, this one will likely be long, rambling, and not as funny as I think it should be. However, I think it is important.
This blog gets a lot more traffic than the "following" widget shows. While some of my readers land here looking for porn (seriously? nude Aspie?), most people use search terms such as "what to do with my autistic child?" and "will my autistic child be ok?" or variations thereof. I do, invariably, get a little bit of e-mail from people that land here. Some of it is rather rude, but most of it is sent from a place of desperation and a need to feel that everything is going to be all right. This letter is for those parents who feel as though they have an endless struggle on their hands, and they are looking for a little encouragement.
I would like to apologize to you. I cannot tell you that your child is going to be okay. I cannot tell you that he is going to be high functioning. I cannot tell you that your child is a genius inside his silent shell. I can't promise you she will ever speak to you or hug you or be able to wear jeans without melting down. In short, I cannot lie to you. Some of your children will never say "I love you, Mommy." Some of them will never look you in the eyes. Some of them will never move out of your basements. I'm very sorry. On the other side of the coin, some of your children will learn affection, and some of them will soon talk your ears off and some of them will get married and have children of their own and tell stories at Christmas like, "Remember that time that I stood on the kitchen counter and shouted 'Bebo! Bebo!' over and over again because it was the only sound that I used to be able to make?" Some of your children are Albert Einstein or Temple Grandin inside. I wish I could tell you that your little Bert or Gertrude was that person, but I can't. I cannot lie to you, even if you are desperate to hear it.
All I can do here is tell you how I function and how I feel about things and ideas that work for me to keep me functioning on a day-to-day basis. I am but one person with autism, and I'm different from all of the others. Therapy and social training worked for me in ways that it has not worked for others, as we are not all the same.
What I can do is give you a little shimmer of hope. All is not lost. I consider my story a success, and there are many other successes out there as well. Your kid's may be one of them.
I know that a lot of you feel as though your child's diagnosis is a death sentence for your hopes and dreams for your little one. I also know that you can't say that out loud without judgment. If you need to say that, you can say that to me with zero judgment at all, and I can promise you that. That feeling is perfectly ok, and it is perfectly normal, and, for some of you, it is perfectly valid. For others, new dreams will emerge, and for others still, all of the original dreams will still come true.
To conclude, I want you to know that I am here for you, and you can vent to me, but please don't ask me to lie to you. I can't. I respect you and your unique child too much to do so.
With as Much Love as I've Learned to Give,
Karen
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
I was born a ramblin maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan...
Listenin to the ITunes on this fine, rainy Wednesday morning, oh, yes indeedy. I've been running through the house singing at the top of my lungs. NEVERMIND I'LL FIND...SOMEONE LIKE YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!! My luck, the tech from DirecTV that's supposed to be here by noon will show up unannounced and listen for a while. I hope he brought industrial-strength ear plugs.
So, this blog was prompted by my awesome friend from way back when in the high school days. She posted an Aspie fact sheet, which you can find HERE. Anyway, I posted all confident that I think we autists are the more evolved of the species and that we are the future (mostly joking). Another of her friends mentioned on the post that when he comes across folks whose family members or children have been diagnosed, he generally recommends they watch Temple Grandin and purchase a copy of the film for others to check out. So, this little paragraph is in response to that.
I think a lot of people watch Temple, though, and expect that we are all like her. It's kinda the same as if they watch any movie about autists or read a book about autists or even know an autist, and then expect to know about all autists. We've gotta saying, "If you've met one person with autism, you've met one person with autism." haha I wish we all did fit into one mold. Then it might be easier to figure out where the autism comes from. Is there a gene that we haven't found, yet? We don't know because we're all different, some autists have a gene, and some autists don't, and some neurotypicals have the damn gene, too, so it's not the right gene, and we just keep going through this vein over and over. I sure would like a lot of questions answered. Hell, I'd like a cure, and by me saying that, the autist community would like to punch me in the knees. I can go around on my high horse all I want (like I did above) saying we are the wave of the future blah, blah, blah, but the fact of the matter is, I cannot keep a job, and I don't provide for my family, and I'm lucky I'm not rotting in my parents' basement for the rest of my life, and all of those things would be possible for me if I didn't have this...thing. We're trying to have a baby right now. It sure would be nice to know HOW genetic this is. I am high functioning. Is my baby more likely to be low functioning? Am I doing the baby and the world a huge disservice by even attempting to procreate? I'd like to know. If we were all the same, I bet we could figure it out.
To go back to the original point, it's not that I don't think Temple Grandin is a great movie or that Claire Danes isn't awesome, because I totally do think it's a great movie, and I've loved Claire Danes since she tried to hook up with Jordan Catalano, but I really don't think Ms. Grandin should be considered the norm for the autistic community, KWIM? I'm sure she's a really amazing human being and all that. Ah, heck, I think I'm just making excuses for my douchebaggary at this point.
In other news: I had this horrid nightmare last night that there was a tornado, and the house collapsed. The kids and I were stuck in the glitter potty in the basement. My phone had no bars to make calls, but my 3G was up and running, so I had to post on IndyMoms and ask them to call 911 because we were buried in the basement and we had water and a toilet and plenty of glitter, but no food. I was calm in the dream, and then it suddenly turned all nutso crazy. Suddenly, it was more than, "Please call 911 to dig us out of the basement." It was, "The house collapsed, and the kids and I are stuck in the basement, but Eric was upstairs, and I'm calling to him, and he isn't answering." And then tons of people came to the house to start digging us out, and we could hear their machines, so I was keeping everyone updated on our progress online, and then someone shared a news story with a picture of our house on it and the news that they had found my husband's body. I was sitting in the basement knowing my husband had been killed but trying not to grieve in order to not scare the dudes even more than they already were being in a basement surrounded by toilets and glitter and silently plotting my revenge on the news station that had reported the death before the next of kin was notified. As soon as we were dug out, I rushed out to the news fan and beat the reporter up who had done the story and had to be carried away by the police. I was then carted off in a police car with Eric's ex-wife's mom (a very nice person in real life) screaming at me that now that Eric was gone, I have no rights, and I can expect to never see the dudes again and hahaha! I woke up with a pillow soaked with tears and my heart about to explode.
This is a very real problem for stepparents, of course. If something happens to our husbands, we have zero rights to ever see the children again. Even if their home is with us for years and years. There is no recourse. We are at the mercy of ex-wives to allow us to continue to be a part of their children's lives while dealing with the grief of losing a spouse at the same time. It's just the way of the world and the way of the law. It's one of those things where you just hope and pray you don't come to that bridge and have to try to cross it.
Check out how I depressed every one of my readers in one fell swoop. That's pretty awesome. I had another thought running through my head, too, but it's as equally not funny, so I'll leave it for another day. I'm sure I won't forget it, as I get a reminder of it every time I leave the house.
So, this blog was prompted by my awesome friend from way back when in the high school days. She posted an Aspie fact sheet, which you can find HERE. Anyway, I posted all confident that I think we autists are the more evolved of the species and that we are the future (mostly joking). Another of her friends mentioned on the post that when he comes across folks whose family members or children have been diagnosed, he generally recommends they watch Temple Grandin and purchase a copy of the film for others to check out. So, this little paragraph is in response to that.
I think a lot of people watch Temple, though, and expect that we are all like her. It's kinda the same as if they watch any movie about autists or read a book about autists or even know an autist, and then expect to know about all autists. We've gotta saying, "If you've met one person with autism, you've met one person with autism." haha I wish we all did fit into one mold. Then it might be easier to figure out where the autism comes from. Is there a gene that we haven't found, yet? We don't know because we're all different, some autists have a gene, and some autists don't, and some neurotypicals have the damn gene, too, so it's not the right gene, and we just keep going through this vein over and over. I sure would like a lot of questions answered. Hell, I'd like a cure, and by me saying that, the autist community would like to punch me in the knees. I can go around on my high horse all I want (like I did above) saying we are the wave of the future blah, blah, blah, but the fact of the matter is, I cannot keep a job, and I don't provide for my family, and I'm lucky I'm not rotting in my parents' basement for the rest of my life, and all of those things would be possible for me if I didn't have this...thing. We're trying to have a baby right now. It sure would be nice to know HOW genetic this is. I am high functioning. Is my baby more likely to be low functioning? Am I doing the baby and the world a huge disservice by even attempting to procreate? I'd like to know. If we were all the same, I bet we could figure it out.
To go back to the original point, it's not that I don't think Temple Grandin is a great movie or that Claire Danes isn't awesome, because I totally do think it's a great movie, and I've loved Claire Danes since she tried to hook up with Jordan Catalano, but I really don't think Ms. Grandin should be considered the norm for the autistic community, KWIM? I'm sure she's a really amazing human being and all that. Ah, heck, I think I'm just making excuses for my douchebaggary at this point.
In other news: I had this horrid nightmare last night that there was a tornado, and the house collapsed. The kids and I were stuck in the glitter potty in the basement. My phone had no bars to make calls, but my 3G was up and running, so I had to post on IndyMoms and ask them to call 911 because we were buried in the basement and we had water and a toilet and plenty of glitter, but no food. I was calm in the dream, and then it suddenly turned all nutso crazy. Suddenly, it was more than, "Please call 911 to dig us out of the basement." It was, "The house collapsed, and the kids and I are stuck in the basement, but Eric was upstairs, and I'm calling to him, and he isn't answering." And then tons of people came to the house to start digging us out, and we could hear their machines, so I was keeping everyone updated on our progress online, and then someone shared a news story with a picture of our house on it and the news that they had found my husband's body. I was sitting in the basement knowing my husband had been killed but trying not to grieve in order to not scare the dudes even more than they already were being in a basement surrounded by toilets and glitter and silently plotting my revenge on the news station that had reported the death before the next of kin was notified. As soon as we were dug out, I rushed out to the news fan and beat the reporter up who had done the story and had to be carried away by the police. I was then carted off in a police car with Eric's ex-wife's mom (a very nice person in real life) screaming at me that now that Eric was gone, I have no rights, and I can expect to never see the dudes again and hahaha! I woke up with a pillow soaked with tears and my heart about to explode.
This is a very real problem for stepparents, of course. If something happens to our husbands, we have zero rights to ever see the children again. Even if their home is with us for years and years. There is no recourse. We are at the mercy of ex-wives to allow us to continue to be a part of their children's lives while dealing with the grief of losing a spouse at the same time. It's just the way of the world and the way of the law. It's one of those things where you just hope and pray you don't come to that bridge and have to try to cross it.
Check out how I depressed every one of my readers in one fell swoop. That's pretty awesome. I had another thought running through my head, too, but it's as equally not funny, so I'll leave it for another day. I'm sure I won't forget it, as I get a reminder of it every time I leave the house.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
WHAT IS THIS?!
OMFG, IT'S A BLOG!! FROM ME!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!?
Me, neither. I totally forgot my password and had to jump through hoops to log in today. Weak sauce.
Anyway, we bought the house, we cleaned the house, we decorated the house, we now live in the house, we love the house, house house house housey house house house. Love it.
Also, trying to have a baby. I won't go into details because, you know, gross.
Couple of little changes. Gonna remove The Mompetition from the blog roll because she's gone outta business, as they say. Sad days. She's moved on to greener pastures, given up tenure, etc. etc. other cliches. Adding People I Want To Punch In The Throat for super hilarity. You know I love me some hilarious bloggity bliggity blog blogs.
Speaking of hoops and throats, I'm pretty sure I knocked my throat on one of them there hoops, because dudes, I am SICK! Sore throat of imminent doom and destruction has settled on me, and I'm pretty sure death is near. Of course it is. I'm having the BEST.WEEK.EVAR!!!
BTW, read that "evar" how it is spelled, please, as that is how I pronounce it. Some duder on my Facebook made fun of my "misspelling" of this word, only IT IS NOT MISSPELLED UNINTENTIONALLY! I am seriously not a moron. I know how to spell the word "ever" properly. I have since I was around 4 years old, promise. I often type things out the way I would speak them, which means getting creative with the spelling and making it look like I'm an idiot in print. Perhaps I should change this characteristic about myself. I bet there would be a lot less red squiggly lines under my writing, and mayhaps people would not think I was a completely uneducated idiot of the first degree.
I am not uneducated, of course, and part of the best.week.evar! proves it. I got all A's again this semester, so suck it, detractors. Well A's in the two classes that have posted, which were hard as shit. War and Conflict and US/Middle East Foreign Policy. My guitar class hasn't posted, yet, but...uh...it's beginning guitar. The hardest thing I had to do was keep my fingernails short while simultaneously taking prenatal vitamins. Pretty sure I can predict an A in that one. Oh, wait, I just checked, it just posted. A in the face! YEAH! Take that, prenatals!
Also, Eric traded in his awesome and manly BMW for a less sexy and more family SUV, and I love it to pieces.
Too, Big Man had his first ever holiday program last night, and it was the cutest thing I've ever seen ever. I've been looking forward to a holiday program from one of the dudes for, like, 4 years now. AND I think Little Man has a spring program later in the year, which will be aweeeesome. Big Man got to play the bells, and although he looked nervous and uncomfortable as crap through the first seven or eight songs, by the last two, he was dancing around like a crazy person with huge genuine smiles on his face.
Thirdly, if I can get over this death-bringing illness by tomorrow, I have volunteered for the first time to work a booth at the kids' end-of-semester Golden Celebration at their school. I'm terrified for this. The last time I volunteered (Little Man's field trip) it was NOT good. Little Man showed off how horrible his behavior could be that day. Hopefully it's not a repeat offense. He's matured since then (in the two months) I'm sure of it! I'm looking forward to it now. Ask me again tomorrow around 3 when it's over.
Last, FRIDAY!!! The kids have Friday off school, and I'm baking cookies with them, which means me upstairs with Betty Crocker while the kids run wild in the basement until it's time for frosting because I am more excited about this than they are. THEN, THEN!!! CHRISTMAS AT THE ZOO!! I have always wanted to go to Christmas at the Zoo, and we get to go this year!! Then, Saturday morning with the boys Christmas, which they are very concerned about because how will Santa know to come on Christmas Eve Eve instead of Christmas Eve? I hate Santa, but that's another blog entirely. I just unconvincingly said, "Don't worry about it."
I have more to write, but sitting up is becoming increasingly difficult. I'm goin back to Cali, to Cali, to Cali....if Cali is my bed.
Me, neither. I totally forgot my password and had to jump through hoops to log in today. Weak sauce.
Anyway, we bought the house, we cleaned the house, we decorated the house, we now live in the house, we love the house, house house house housey house house house. Love it.
Also, trying to have a baby. I won't go into details because, you know, gross.
Couple of little changes. Gonna remove The Mompetition from the blog roll because she's gone outta business, as they say. Sad days. She's moved on to greener pastures, given up tenure, etc. etc. other cliches. Adding People I Want To Punch In The Throat for super hilarity. You know I love me some hilarious bloggity bliggity blog blogs.
Speaking of hoops and throats, I'm pretty sure I knocked my throat on one of them there hoops, because dudes, I am SICK! Sore throat of imminent doom and destruction has settled on me, and I'm pretty sure death is near. Of course it is. I'm having the BEST.WEEK.EVAR!!!
BTW, read that "evar" how it is spelled, please, as that is how I pronounce it. Some duder on my Facebook made fun of my "misspelling" of this word, only IT IS NOT MISSPELLED UNINTENTIONALLY! I am seriously not a moron. I know how to spell the word "ever" properly. I have since I was around 4 years old, promise. I often type things out the way I would speak them, which means getting creative with the spelling and making it look like I'm an idiot in print. Perhaps I should change this characteristic about myself. I bet there would be a lot less red squiggly lines under my writing, and mayhaps people would not think I was a completely uneducated idiot of the first degree.
I am not uneducated, of course, and part of the best.week.evar! proves it. I got all A's again this semester, so suck it, detractors. Well A's in the two classes that have posted, which were hard as shit. War and Conflict and US/Middle East Foreign Policy. My guitar class hasn't posted, yet, but...uh...it's beginning guitar. The hardest thing I had to do was keep my fingernails short while simultaneously taking prenatal vitamins. Pretty sure I can predict an A in that one. Oh, wait, I just checked, it just posted. A in the face! YEAH! Take that, prenatals!
Also, Eric traded in his awesome and manly BMW for a less sexy and more family SUV, and I love it to pieces.
Too, Big Man had his first ever holiday program last night, and it was the cutest thing I've ever seen ever. I've been looking forward to a holiday program from one of the dudes for, like, 4 years now. AND I think Little Man has a spring program later in the year, which will be aweeeesome. Big Man got to play the bells, and although he looked nervous and uncomfortable as crap through the first seven or eight songs, by the last two, he was dancing around like a crazy person with huge genuine smiles on his face.
Thirdly, if I can get over this death-bringing illness by tomorrow, I have volunteered for the first time to work a booth at the kids' end-of-semester Golden Celebration at their school. I'm terrified for this. The last time I volunteered (Little Man's field trip) it was NOT good. Little Man showed off how horrible his behavior could be that day. Hopefully it's not a repeat offense. He's matured since then (in the two months) I'm sure of it! I'm looking forward to it now. Ask me again tomorrow around 3 when it's over.
Last, FRIDAY!!! The kids have Friday off school, and I'm baking cookies with them, which means me upstairs with Betty Crocker while the kids run wild in the basement until it's time for frosting because I am more excited about this than they are. THEN, THEN!!! CHRISTMAS AT THE ZOO!! I have always wanted to go to Christmas at the Zoo, and we get to go this year!! Then, Saturday morning with the boys Christmas, which they are very concerned about because how will Santa know to come on Christmas Eve Eve instead of Christmas Eve? I hate Santa, but that's another blog entirely. I just unconvincingly said, "Don't worry about it."
I have more to write, but sitting up is becoming increasingly difficult. I'm goin back to Cali, to Cali, to Cali....if Cali is my bed.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
My chest aches
It is no secret that my past is not a pretty thing. From the age of about 17 to around 27 my life was a mess, to put it mildly. Things that happened during that time tend to come back to haunt me, especially at bedtime. I believe it's a major source of my insomnia. I spend a lot of nights crying into my pillow.
A lot of this rethinking showed up with my counseling for my Asperger's diagnosis. Social training not only taught me how to interact and read others, it also taught me the cruelty of others, cruelty that I did not have the capacity to understand before my training. I have a tendency to review past interactions, interactions that meant nothing to me at the time, and feel immensely hurt now that I understand them. Boyfriends who I thought I loved at tender ages cheated, and it didn't hurt for more than a second, or even at all. Donny's abuse really didn't have much affect on me until much later, and once I figured it out, there was no pain at all. I was able to walk away from a years'-long relationship without a drop of hurt or care. I'd moved on emotionally before I'd even moved out of the house. Within hours of the boot flying at my face, actually. I remember it being a huge problem in the break up. He would cry and yell and scream about how angry and hurt he was and that he loved me and needed me, and we had to make this work, and all I could muster was a bored stare. There was a common complaint of, "How can you be so cold?" He's not the only one who has ever said that. There are people in my life that I should be intensely angry with. This is what keeps me up at night. The coldness is gone, and now my emotions, or at least my thoughts, seem to understand what happened around me, and it hurts. I'm pretty sure my emotions were intact before, but they weren't connecting with my brain. My behavior acted accordingly, that's for sure. With each hurt, I got a bit more reckless, but my noodle never connected it with the emotional "pain". I suppose that's because emotions don't have a mental reaction, really. They're not connected to anything. To me, emotions are just words, or a fleeting physical reaction. My chest aches now, though, so that's something.
OK, I am interrupting this pensive whine-fest for a little WTF. I am trying to earn Swagbucks, and I'm watching SBTV, and one of the food videos is seriously, "Spatchcocking a chicken, how to". W.T.F? Spatchcocking?!?!?!? What in the heck is that? I suppose, if I actually WATCHED the video, then I would know, but I don't actually watch the videos. I turn them on, and then do other things while they earn Swagbucks for me. That way I can get a free HDTV for Christmas. http://www.swagbucks.com/refer/kbaum1608 You see what I did there?
Also, I was poking through my stats, and there's a way to see what people search to find my blog. I gotta say, some of y'all are SICK, dudes. Well, probably not my regular reading dudes, but some of y'all who land on my page. There are my homies, who find me via Googling my blog or clicking through from FB or the blogs we all share as IndyMoms, and then, there are the strangers. Some of them are looking for help, mostly parenting an autistic stepkid. Sorry, can't help you there. Some of them are looking for an outlet for anger, "my stepmom sucks". Then, there's the sickos looking for porn. I promise to you, several of my "readers" have found me by searching for adult websites featuring stepmothers. I'm happy to say you will find none of that here, sirs.
Though you might have ten years ago.
A lot of this rethinking showed up with my counseling for my Asperger's diagnosis. Social training not only taught me how to interact and read others, it also taught me the cruelty of others, cruelty that I did not have the capacity to understand before my training. I have a tendency to review past interactions, interactions that meant nothing to me at the time, and feel immensely hurt now that I understand them. Boyfriends who I thought I loved at tender ages cheated, and it didn't hurt for more than a second, or even at all. Donny's abuse really didn't have much affect on me until much later, and once I figured it out, there was no pain at all. I was able to walk away from a years'-long relationship without a drop of hurt or care. I'd moved on emotionally before I'd even moved out of the house. Within hours of the boot flying at my face, actually. I remember it being a huge problem in the break up. He would cry and yell and scream about how angry and hurt he was and that he loved me and needed me, and we had to make this work, and all I could muster was a bored stare. There was a common complaint of, "How can you be so cold?" He's not the only one who has ever said that. There are people in my life that I should be intensely angry with. This is what keeps me up at night. The coldness is gone, and now my emotions, or at least my thoughts, seem to understand what happened around me, and it hurts. I'm pretty sure my emotions were intact before, but they weren't connecting with my brain. My behavior acted accordingly, that's for sure. With each hurt, I got a bit more reckless, but my noodle never connected it with the emotional "pain". I suppose that's because emotions don't have a mental reaction, really. They're not connected to anything. To me, emotions are just words, or a fleeting physical reaction. My chest aches now, though, so that's something.
OK, I am interrupting this pensive whine-fest for a little WTF. I am trying to earn Swagbucks, and I'm watching SBTV, and one of the food videos is seriously, "Spatchcocking a chicken, how to". W.T.F? Spatchcocking?!?!?!? What in the heck is that? I suppose, if I actually WATCHED the video, then I would know, but I don't actually watch the videos. I turn them on, and then do other things while they earn Swagbucks for me. That way I can get a free HDTV for Christmas. http://www.swagbucks.com/refer/kbaum1608 You see what I did there?
Also, I was poking through my stats, and there's a way to see what people search to find my blog. I gotta say, some of y'all are SICK, dudes. Well, probably not my regular reading dudes, but some of y'all who land on my page. There are my homies, who find me via Googling my blog or clicking through from FB or the blogs we all share as IndyMoms, and then, there are the strangers. Some of them are looking for help, mostly parenting an autistic stepkid. Sorry, can't help you there. Some of them are looking for an outlet for anger, "my stepmom sucks". Then, there's the sickos looking for porn. I promise to you, several of my "readers" have found me by searching for adult websites featuring stepmothers. I'm happy to say you will find none of that here, sirs.
Though you might have ten years ago.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
For the sake of Pete!
Who is this Pete person, and why are we always worried for his sake?
Have we, as a people, forgotten the fine art of the apology? I ask this because of an instance I witnessed in the halls of my established educational facility (IUPUI). The incident triggered in my mind several other incidents that were of the same ilk. What happened was this: A girl was sitting in a busy hallway. Classes had just let out, and the hallway was filling with walkers. Sitting girl is quite tall, and decided she needed to stretch. To do so, she stuck her legs out into the middle of the hallway, tripping someone. She was tall enough that her legs went almost to the other side of the narrow hallway, blocking nearly the entire path in which people were trying to walk. The person she tripped got upset and said, "Hey, you probably shouldn't stick your legs out into the hallway. People will trip." At this point, shouldn't the response from sitting (and now tripping) girl be, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to trip you." Shouldn't it? Instead, her response was, "Pay attention to where you are going. You could have stepped over my legs." I don't understand the response, but I see it a lot. Instead of apologizing to the person who has been offended, hurt, etc., the offender blames the offended for being offended, as though the offender's offensive action is the offended's fault. Offend. Just for good measure because I hadn't typed it enough.
Moreso, even if it is an accident, aren't you supposed to apologize? The girl accidentally tripped the other person. Had she said, "Sorry, it was an accident" then the tripped girl likely would not have walked off disgustedly shaking her head. Also, I'd not be writing this blog, so there's that. Thanks, tripping girl! Anyway, this links to another incident that happened a few weeks ago. Two groups of friends were out at separate bars. One person in one of the groups and one person in the other group don't like one another. Mutual friends of these two were out at separate locations. One such person posts on Facebook that they are at such and such bar with such and such people, including the one person from one group that the other person from the other group doesn't like. You following? No? Me neither. So, the OTHER person that doesn't like the one person posts to the mutual friend that, "I guarantee you'd be having more fun with us at this other bar." Rude, right? The implication is, "Oh, I see you're at that bar I hate with that person I don't like. You'd be having more fun at the bar I like with me instead of with those other horrible people." The people she doesn't like were linked to the post, so they could read the rude remark.
In this situation, a few people pointed out the rudeness of this statement. The offender, instead of saying something like, "Oh, that came out wrong. I'm sorry" said something to the effect of, "Lighten up. You all read it wrong." That's not an apology. You were rude. You possibly hurt someone's feelings. If you really didn't mean to be rude, and it was an accident, then apologize! If you don't apologize, and then say something along the lines of, "It's not what I said, it was what you heard" then you are blaming the person you hurt, making it all the more likely that you really hurt them on purpose and didn't think you'd be called out on it.
Same thing happened in a relationship I was in once. Boyfriend was in the living room with his friends and thought I was asleep. They got in some sort of testicle fight, where one of them didn't want to go see some nerd movie and one of them did, so they needed to prove that nerd dudes are not as good as not nerd dudes or something. My boyfriend needed his nerd friend to know that nerds are virgins and that he was not going to that movie or whatever because, "I get pussy whenever I want." I heard this. I was pissed. I do not give up the vagina just because some dude demands it, and it makes me look like a total hoebag in front of these friends to say that I do. It also made it seem like he had no feelings for me (not the case at the time) and that all I was good for was a piece of ass. I was not happy with this. So, I came out of the bedroom and demanded an explanation. Whose pussy WAS he getting into whenever he wanted, because it sure as hell wasn't mine. What explanation did I get? Not an, "I'm sorry, current love of my life. I was trying to prove to my buddy that I had more testosterone than he has." Oh, no! The "explanation" I got was to blame me. "I didn't say that. You must have heard me wrong."
There are many other witnessed incidences of this same thing, but I'm not going to recount them all to you, because my blogs are already too long as it is. Back to the main question, do we not apologize anymore? Seriously? Can no one admit when they are wrong? Because, dudes, I am telling this to you in all sincerity. THESE ARE SITUATIONS IN WHICH YOU APOLOGIZE!
You should listen to me, too, and I will presently tell you why. Because I have had social training, and if there's one thing torture taught me, it's how to be polite. I'm, like, a manners expert.
Have we, as a people, forgotten the fine art of the apology? I ask this because of an instance I witnessed in the halls of my established educational facility (IUPUI). The incident triggered in my mind several other incidents that were of the same ilk. What happened was this: A girl was sitting in a busy hallway. Classes had just let out, and the hallway was filling with walkers. Sitting girl is quite tall, and decided she needed to stretch. To do so, she stuck her legs out into the middle of the hallway, tripping someone. She was tall enough that her legs went almost to the other side of the narrow hallway, blocking nearly the entire path in which people were trying to walk. The person she tripped got upset and said, "Hey, you probably shouldn't stick your legs out into the hallway. People will trip." At this point, shouldn't the response from sitting (and now tripping) girl be, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to trip you." Shouldn't it? Instead, her response was, "Pay attention to where you are going. You could have stepped over my legs." I don't understand the response, but I see it a lot. Instead of apologizing to the person who has been offended, hurt, etc., the offender blames the offended for being offended, as though the offender's offensive action is the offended's fault. Offend. Just for good measure because I hadn't typed it enough.
Moreso, even if it is an accident, aren't you supposed to apologize? The girl accidentally tripped the other person. Had she said, "Sorry, it was an accident" then the tripped girl likely would not have walked off disgustedly shaking her head. Also, I'd not be writing this blog, so there's that. Thanks, tripping girl! Anyway, this links to another incident that happened a few weeks ago. Two groups of friends were out at separate bars. One person in one of the groups and one person in the other group don't like one another. Mutual friends of these two were out at separate locations. One such person posts on Facebook that they are at such and such bar with such and such people, including the one person from one group that the other person from the other group doesn't like. You following? No? Me neither. So, the OTHER person that doesn't like the one person posts to the mutual friend that, "I guarantee you'd be having more fun with us at this other bar." Rude, right? The implication is, "Oh, I see you're at that bar I hate with that person I don't like. You'd be having more fun at the bar I like with me instead of with those other horrible people." The people she doesn't like were linked to the post, so they could read the rude remark.
In this situation, a few people pointed out the rudeness of this statement. The offender, instead of saying something like, "Oh, that came out wrong. I'm sorry" said something to the effect of, "Lighten up. You all read it wrong." That's not an apology. You were rude. You possibly hurt someone's feelings. If you really didn't mean to be rude, and it was an accident, then apologize! If you don't apologize, and then say something along the lines of, "It's not what I said, it was what you heard" then you are blaming the person you hurt, making it all the more likely that you really hurt them on purpose and didn't think you'd be called out on it.
Same thing happened in a relationship I was in once. Boyfriend was in the living room with his friends and thought I was asleep. They got in some sort of testicle fight, where one of them didn't want to go see some nerd movie and one of them did, so they needed to prove that nerd dudes are not as good as not nerd dudes or something. My boyfriend needed his nerd friend to know that nerds are virgins and that he was not going to that movie or whatever because, "I get pussy whenever I want." I heard this. I was pissed. I do not give up the vagina just because some dude demands it, and it makes me look like a total hoebag in front of these friends to say that I do. It also made it seem like he had no feelings for me (not the case at the time) and that all I was good for was a piece of ass. I was not happy with this. So, I came out of the bedroom and demanded an explanation. Whose pussy WAS he getting into whenever he wanted, because it sure as hell wasn't mine. What explanation did I get? Not an, "I'm sorry, current love of my life. I was trying to prove to my buddy that I had more testosterone than he has." Oh, no! The "explanation" I got was to blame me. "I didn't say that. You must have heard me wrong."
There are many other witnessed incidences of this same thing, but I'm not going to recount them all to you, because my blogs are already too long as it is. Back to the main question, do we not apologize anymore? Seriously? Can no one admit when they are wrong? Because, dudes, I am telling this to you in all sincerity. THESE ARE SITUATIONS IN WHICH YOU APOLOGIZE!
You should listen to me, too, and I will presently tell you why. Because I have had social training, and if there's one thing torture taught me, it's how to be polite. I'm, like, a manners expert.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Yay! A Blog!
I've been meaning to update this thing for the longest darn time. I have so much to say. Unfortunately, the blog crashed my browser every time I tried to update for the last month or so. So, I downloaded Google Chrome. I pinky swear it was because I wanted to update my blog and NOT because I wanted to play Angry Birds. Promise.
That. That is a lie. The Dudes have become obsessed with Angry Birds, and I wanted to see what all of the fuss was. I downloaded the Chrome version and beat it in a day. Meh. What I DO love about it, though. The sounds! SO FUN! I love the music and the little noises the birds make.
Ok, ok, I'm watching Supernanny. Sometimes, I watch this for tips. I do the Supernanny time outs for the Little Man. I do them with Big Man, too, but rarely. Little Man does what they do on TV. Scream and run, scream and run, though not all of the time. Depends on his mood swings. Big Man sulks to the corner, stands there for a few minutes, and goes about his way. Sometimes I watch Supernanny to say, "Oh, goodness, at least the dudes aren't THAT bad!" Then, sometimes I watch and go, "OMG, Little Man is TOTALLY that bad." Either way, it makes me feel better that I'm not alone, or that I'm not "that mom". This show also makes me realize that "that mom" is a stressed out messball. I feel for her in public. I find myself smiling and making faces at screaming babies and toddlers in the grocery store instead of disrupting my shop to go to a different section of the store until they're gone. THANKS, SUPERNANNY!
Aaaaanyway. WE BOUGHT A HOUSE! We closed on it yesterday and get to move in TWO WEEKS! It's a little bit stressful, though I think it's more stressful for the rest of the family than it is for me. Little Man is having a rough time of it, I think. We're trying to prepare him as much as possible for the new schedule, which is going to be CRAZY! We aren't comfortable changing him schools in the middle of the school year. We want to disrupt his schedule as little as possible. Plus, he's started counseling at his current school. Then, once we found out that the new school doesn't even offer full-day kindergarten, the deal was sealed. We'll be driving the dudes an hour to and from school every day. It's gonna be super nutso MaGoo until the middle-ish of June when they get out.
ALSO! OMGOMGOMG!! I GRADUATE IN MAY! I am all signed up for my final three classes: African Politics (my senior seminar), The Politics of Terrorism, and The Politics of Human Consumption. Gonna be loooads of research. I'm excited. I'm writing one huge super paper on the Iraqi conflict this semester, and it's been a really enjoyable project.
The most stress actually hasn't come from the dudes or the new house for me. It's come from the baby. Yes, baby. We are actively trying to conceive! It's very exciting for us. We've been planning it for a while. The stress for me, though, is kinda horrible. I am ready to get back to work, especially after I graduate, and I'm not sure that I can do that if I have a baby. My main goal after graduation is to start working on LuLunacy ASAP. However, I'd like to have a part-time money making job as well. I don't like not providing financially. If we have a baby, it wouldn't work with the daycare situation. As it is, we've got a while to figure it out. We aren't even pregnant, yet, and who knows if we will be. Yet to be seen.
Holy Mcbobbysocks, this Glam Fairy show is the worst thing I've ever seen. Time to shut off the electronics and practice guitar :D
That. That is a lie. The Dudes have become obsessed with Angry Birds, and I wanted to see what all of the fuss was. I downloaded the Chrome version and beat it in a day. Meh. What I DO love about it, though. The sounds! SO FUN! I love the music and the little noises the birds make.
Ok, ok, I'm watching Supernanny. Sometimes, I watch this for tips. I do the Supernanny time outs for the Little Man. I do them with Big Man, too, but rarely. Little Man does what they do on TV. Scream and run, scream and run, though not all of the time. Depends on his mood swings. Big Man sulks to the corner, stands there for a few minutes, and goes about his way. Sometimes I watch Supernanny to say, "Oh, goodness, at least the dudes aren't THAT bad!" Then, sometimes I watch and go, "OMG, Little Man is TOTALLY that bad." Either way, it makes me feel better that I'm not alone, or that I'm not "that mom". This show also makes me realize that "that mom" is a stressed out messball. I feel for her in public. I find myself smiling and making faces at screaming babies and toddlers in the grocery store instead of disrupting my shop to go to a different section of the store until they're gone. THANKS, SUPERNANNY!
Aaaaanyway. WE BOUGHT A HOUSE! We closed on it yesterday and get to move in TWO WEEKS! It's a little bit stressful, though I think it's more stressful for the rest of the family than it is for me. Little Man is having a rough time of it, I think. We're trying to prepare him as much as possible for the new schedule, which is going to be CRAZY! We aren't comfortable changing him schools in the middle of the school year. We want to disrupt his schedule as little as possible. Plus, he's started counseling at his current school. Then, once we found out that the new school doesn't even offer full-day kindergarten, the deal was sealed. We'll be driving the dudes an hour to and from school every day. It's gonna be super nutso MaGoo until the middle-ish of June when they get out.
ALSO! OMGOMGOMG!! I GRADUATE IN MAY! I am all signed up for my final three classes: African Politics (my senior seminar), The Politics of Terrorism, and The Politics of Human Consumption. Gonna be loooads of research. I'm excited. I'm writing one huge super paper on the Iraqi conflict this semester, and it's been a really enjoyable project.
The most stress actually hasn't come from the dudes or the new house for me. It's come from the baby. Yes, baby. We are actively trying to conceive! It's very exciting for us. We've been planning it for a while. The stress for me, though, is kinda horrible. I am ready to get back to work, especially after I graduate, and I'm not sure that I can do that if I have a baby. My main goal after graduation is to start working on LuLunacy ASAP. However, I'd like to have a part-time money making job as well. I don't like not providing financially. If we have a baby, it wouldn't work with the daycare situation. As it is, we've got a while to figure it out. We aren't even pregnant, yet, and who knows if we will be. Yet to be seen.
Holy Mcbobbysocks, this Glam Fairy show is the worst thing I've ever seen. Time to shut off the electronics and practice guitar :D
Monday, September 26, 2011
JACKIE CHAN ESTATES
WE BOUGHT A HOUSE!!! I didn't wanna say anything until it was official because I didn't want to jinx it like I did last time. But, IT'S OFFICIAL! We move in the weekend before Thanksgiving and close on November 2. WOO HOO!!! It is the most beautiful house I have ever seen ever. I was getting so frustrated. I felt like I was doing just so much work to find us the perfect place to live. We had to have driven over 1000 miles to go view all of them, and we probably walked through a good 25 different homes that didn't "feel" right. Then, we put an offer in on one, but it already had a contingency offer on it, and their house sold, so they bought it. Then, we put an offer in on a second one, and someone else's offer was accepted on that one, too. It was SO discouraging! In the end, I'm glad all of that happened, because THIS house is so much better than those!
Oh, pictures!
This is the front of the house. The landscaping is really gorgeous.
This is the living room. This is the only room in the house that I feel like it doesn't have much personality. It needs a pretty wall color. We do love how big the windows are and that they go almost to the floor.
The dining room goes onto the back deck, also with a gorgeous view. That wall back there is a textured wallpaper that has been painted red. I stood there for a while just feeling up the wall. Like Get Him To The Greek.
This is where the magic happens! It is also red. And big. The closet in here is as big as a room!
MY VERY OWN SPACE!!! This is the loft upstairs. My books and my reading couch and my pretty cedar chest go here, and also my sewing stuff! I can get back to sewing pretty things, and it will be fabulous!
I love this enormous window. Two-story entry way.
The deck off the dining room. THIS IS WHERE I WILL HAVE MY COFFEE! Looking at this amazing view and listening to the birds.
Front porch! Quick, get thee to Cracker Barrel and purchase some rocking chairs! Sometimes, I will have my coffee here instead, to break up the monotony.
This little barn is where we would like to put chickens. Szechuan Farms, we will call it. I will make a tiny sign to go above the tiny door. Technically, it's against covenants, but we're gonna try to work around it. We want eggs.
GIANT GARAGE OF DOOM!! Has a big upstairs loft thingie, too, for things like storage or an apartment.
We're on the lake!!! This is my coffee-drinking view every morning.
It's awesome, amiright? The day we bought it, we were too excited to sleep, so we decided to name it. At 5:30 a.m. It had to be something badass and actiony, since that's what we are. Ninja House eventually turned into Jackie Chan Estates and Szechuan Chicken Farms. You can't go wrong, really. I mean, the place has to be awesome with a name like that.
OMG TOO EXCITED BUT I HAVE TO GO TO SCHOOL!
Oh, pictures!
This is the front of the house. The landscaping is really gorgeous.
This is the living room. This is the only room in the house that I feel like it doesn't have much personality. It needs a pretty wall color. We do love how big the windows are and that they go almost to the floor.
THIS IS THE MOST WONDERFUL KITCHEN EVAAAAR!! The counters are gorgeous, and the appliances stay, and I LOVE that built-in desk for the kids to do homework, and the VIEW out that sink window is to.die.to.death.for.
The dining room goes onto the back deck, also with a gorgeous view. That wall back there is a textured wallpaper that has been painted red. I stood there for a while just feeling up the wall. Like Get Him To The Greek.
This is where the magic happens! It is also red. And big. The closet in here is as big as a room!
MY VERY OWN SPACE!!! This is the loft upstairs. My books and my reading couch and my pretty cedar chest go here, and also my sewing stuff! I can get back to sewing pretty things, and it will be fabulous!
I love this enormous window. Two-story entry way.
The deck off the dining room. THIS IS WHERE I WILL HAVE MY COFFEE! Looking at this amazing view and listening to the birds.
Front porch! Quick, get thee to Cracker Barrel and purchase some rocking chairs! Sometimes, I will have my coffee here instead, to break up the monotony.
This little barn is where we would like to put chickens. Szechuan Farms, we will call it. I will make a tiny sign to go above the tiny door. Technically, it's against covenants, but we're gonna try to work around it. We want eggs.
GIANT GARAGE OF DOOM!! Has a big upstairs loft thingie, too, for things like storage or an apartment.
We're on the lake!!! This is my coffee-drinking view every morning.
It's awesome, amiright? The day we bought it, we were too excited to sleep, so we decided to name it. At 5:30 a.m. It had to be something badass and actiony, since that's what we are. Ninja House eventually turned into Jackie Chan Estates and Szechuan Chicken Farms. You can't go wrong, really. I mean, the place has to be awesome with a name like that.
OMG TOO EXCITED BUT I HAVE TO GO TO SCHOOL!
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Into the Land of Controversy
I've been having a lot of controversial thoughts in my head lately, and I've been spitting them out. This is likely going to be more of the same. I think I'm just going to make a series of statements. With numbers, so that it is orderly. I like orderly.
1. I'm sitting at Panera right now, and for serious, the ladies at the next table are having a "my medical problem is worse than your medical problem" contest. Dudes, WTF is up with one-upmanship? How is there some sort of pride in how many bladder infections you can rack up in a year? It's never anything positive, either. I guess then it isn't called one-upping. It's called bragging. Whatever. I'm trying to have my lunch, you namby-pamby ladies, and I don't need to hear all about your bacteria.
2. Along the same lines, people have a right to complain and whine every now and again. Sometimes, you are sick. Sometimes, you hurt. Sometimes, you've had a quite crap day, and you wanna whine about it. Sometimes you're negative for a couple of days straight because the junk keeps pilin' on, ya know? I think if someone is having a bad day and is whining and complaining, maybe listening is in order, instead of this attitude of, "Pffff, your life is easy. Check out how awful MY life is." (I swear, I just put "you're" instead of "your" in that sentence. That is how seriously I take this. I make grammar mistakes.) Also a pet peeve of mine, "That's okay, because..." Here's an example:
Gertrude: "Man, my husband has been really inattentive lately. He's been super stressed at work. He's usually so appreciative of me. It is hurting my self-esteem a little bit."
Hattie: "That's okay. My husband is inattentive all the time. I've just gotten used to it. He never remembers my birthday or to kiss me goodbye in the morning, and he never says thank you when I do his laundry and perfectly fold his socks."
See that? Gertrude now feels like a horrible person because she had a small complaint about her husband, which she's allowed to have, ya know? Gertrude is having a little bit of pain because of her husband's actions, and Hattie completely minimized those feelings because Gertrude's life can't POSSIBLY be as bad as hers. Worse, the "it's ok". The Hell? No, it's not. It's not okay that your homie is hurting, Hattie! Even something silly like "My kid pooped on the floor." "It's ok, MY kid poops on the carpet all of the time." WHAT? Why does your kid's behavior make someone else's kid's behavior okay? I will tell to you right now, IT DOESN'T!
3. I like how I went back and forth between "ok" and "okay" in this story. Screw consistency.
4. I'm totally no nonsense. In all aspects of my life. Except when I am being nonsensical. So I guess you could say I'm a "some nonsense" kinda person. However, my no nonsense parts are super no nonsense. There are things I will not tolerate, such as being disrespected, by anyone. No one has the right to attempt to disrespect me and my choices so that they can try to dictate my behavior. It will not happen. Period.
Lots of folks are no nonsense in this way, but I think the way they act on it is different. The "I will not tolerate this" attitude lends itself to violence, I think. Or ghetto fabulousness. Or argumentative back and forth. Know what I mean? Defending yourself when someone disrespects you is a natural reaction to being disrespected, I think, and in defending yourself, you often disrespect the other party, who in turn needs to defend himself/herself/itself/catself/ratself/shelfself/where was I?
Anyway, I don't react this way to the disrespect. I'm just not all that argumentative. That's not to say that I'm not confrontational. I am. But, I don't go into confrontation when angry, in general. I like to think out my argument first. Things usually go this way with me, someone disrespects me, on FB or through e-mail or even in person, and I walk away with no reply. I delete them as a friend, I ignore their messages, I don't return their calls, or, in extreme cases of a disrepectful relationship, I moved out. He just came home one day, and I was gone. I just, never speak to these people again. No explanations, no attempts at reconciliation. Nothing. I think this way of not tolerating disrespect has something to do with my Asperger's. In my head, a pissing contest just ain't logical, and I can't justify any behavior that isn't illogical. That's what makes parenting so difficult for me. Children, they are not logical, so I don't understand them.
The kids are what started me on this topic. I have a zero tolerance policy for disrespect in my home. I, of course, am not going to just walk away and never speak to them again. Some folks are more important than that. This isn't some silly boyfriend or some idiot I went to high school with. This is my family. Concessions in my behavior must be made as far as my dealing with the inevitable disrespect that happens when you have children.
As such, zero tolerance and all, discipline for this is swift and ninja like. There are no warnings. For the most part, kids are kids, and they act up and whatever, and they'll get a "Hey, stop annoying your brother, or you'll get a time out" or "Dudes, for serious, stop shrieking, or you'll get a time out." We will be warny mcwarnersons all day. But, for disrespectful speech, no warnings. Put your nose in the corner. I am an adult in this house, and I won't be spoken to in that way, and that's that.
Here's where the controversial part starts in this. I won't take a "kids are kids" stance on this. The sweeping generalizations of "teenagers have a bad attitude" won't fly with me. I've seen several IndyMoms threads over the years about the preteen roll your eyes and sigh crap, and I am telling you, no.effin.way. I know most of the parents just laugh it off as that's how preteens are and what not and "as long as Mabel does what I tell her to do, I don't care if she rolls her eyes while doing it." I just can't get behind it.
The thread that inspired this was entitled "How do you get your kids to help around the house?" It was a thread about making housework fun and tricking your kids into doing their chores. Not babies and toddlers, either, big kids. I was staring at this thing in absolute awe. Uh, in my house, you do what your parents ask you to do, and that's it. No tricks. No bribery. You do what needs done. You pick up after yourself, and you keep your space clean because that's what you do when you respect your family and their space. I'm sure when they are older, if they go above and beyond, they'll get some allowance, like they would at a job. I'm also sure that when they're older, if you don't do what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it, out of respect for your parents and your house, they'll have the same consequences they do now, toys will be taken. Right now, I'll take your Lego. When you're 17, I'll take your car keys. Same thing as always.
Wow, this is long. Aren't they always? There's lots more I want to say, but I think I'm out of time. I gotta get another cup of coffee and work on this paper on Iraq.
My next blog post will be about houses and babies and other happy things!!! Life is really, REALLY going great right now. The dudes are doing really well in school. The behavior problems from Little Man at school have really leveled off as he's adjusted, and the ball is rolling to get him talking to the school counselor, which I'm sure will seal the deal on his awesomeness. He mostly just acts like a normal 5-year-old boy now. No more violent outbursts and whatnot, just a bit of testing limits on when he has to sit down and stop playing, etc. Also, Big Man got Prospector of the Week last week, which means he is extra special helpful at school and got to have a trophy on his desk for everyone to see all week. He acted like it was no big deal, but I could tell he was proud. Also, I'm pretty sure he's doing some sort of insanely complicated math in his head all day every day. Too, because I'm sick of writing also, he started reading a chapter book! Captain Unnapants! I hope he enjoys it.
Ok, seriously, I have to figure out how to fix United States' foreign policy in the Middle East.
1. I'm sitting at Panera right now, and for serious, the ladies at the next table are having a "my medical problem is worse than your medical problem" contest. Dudes, WTF is up with one-upmanship? How is there some sort of pride in how many bladder infections you can rack up in a year? It's never anything positive, either. I guess then it isn't called one-upping. It's called bragging. Whatever. I'm trying to have my lunch, you namby-pamby ladies, and I don't need to hear all about your bacteria.
2. Along the same lines, people have a right to complain and whine every now and again. Sometimes, you are sick. Sometimes, you hurt. Sometimes, you've had a quite crap day, and you wanna whine about it. Sometimes you're negative for a couple of days straight because the junk keeps pilin' on, ya know? I think if someone is having a bad day and is whining and complaining, maybe listening is in order, instead of this attitude of, "Pffff, your life is easy. Check out how awful MY life is." (I swear, I just put "you're" instead of "your" in that sentence. That is how seriously I take this. I make grammar mistakes.) Also a pet peeve of mine, "That's okay, because..." Here's an example:
Gertrude: "Man, my husband has been really inattentive lately. He's been super stressed at work. He's usually so appreciative of me. It is hurting my self-esteem a little bit."
Hattie: "That's okay. My husband is inattentive all the time. I've just gotten used to it. He never remembers my birthday or to kiss me goodbye in the morning, and he never says thank you when I do his laundry and perfectly fold his socks."
See that? Gertrude now feels like a horrible person because she had a small complaint about her husband, which she's allowed to have, ya know? Gertrude is having a little bit of pain because of her husband's actions, and Hattie completely minimized those feelings because Gertrude's life can't POSSIBLY be as bad as hers. Worse, the "it's ok". The Hell? No, it's not. It's not okay that your homie is hurting, Hattie! Even something silly like "My kid pooped on the floor." "It's ok, MY kid poops on the carpet all of the time." WHAT? Why does your kid's behavior make someone else's kid's behavior okay? I will tell to you right now, IT DOESN'T!
3. I like how I went back and forth between "ok" and "okay" in this story. Screw consistency.
4. I'm totally no nonsense. In all aspects of my life. Except when I am being nonsensical. So I guess you could say I'm a "some nonsense" kinda person. However, my no nonsense parts are super no nonsense. There are things I will not tolerate, such as being disrespected, by anyone. No one has the right to attempt to disrespect me and my choices so that they can try to dictate my behavior. It will not happen. Period.
Lots of folks are no nonsense in this way, but I think the way they act on it is different. The "I will not tolerate this" attitude lends itself to violence, I think. Or ghetto fabulousness. Or argumentative back and forth. Know what I mean? Defending yourself when someone disrespects you is a natural reaction to being disrespected, I think, and in defending yourself, you often disrespect the other party, who in turn needs to defend himself/herself/itself/catself/ratself/shelfself/where was I?
Anyway, I don't react this way to the disrespect. I'm just not all that argumentative. That's not to say that I'm not confrontational. I am. But, I don't go into confrontation when angry, in general. I like to think out my argument first. Things usually go this way with me, someone disrespects me, on FB or through e-mail or even in person, and I walk away with no reply. I delete them as a friend, I ignore their messages, I don't return their calls, or, in extreme cases of a disrepectful relationship, I moved out. He just came home one day, and I was gone. I just, never speak to these people again. No explanations, no attempts at reconciliation. Nothing. I think this way of not tolerating disrespect has something to do with my Asperger's. In my head, a pissing contest just ain't logical, and I can't justify any behavior that isn't illogical. That's what makes parenting so difficult for me. Children, they are not logical, so I don't understand them.
The kids are what started me on this topic. I have a zero tolerance policy for disrespect in my home. I, of course, am not going to just walk away and never speak to them again. Some folks are more important than that. This isn't some silly boyfriend or some idiot I went to high school with. This is my family. Concessions in my behavior must be made as far as my dealing with the inevitable disrespect that happens when you have children.
As such, zero tolerance and all, discipline for this is swift and ninja like. There are no warnings. For the most part, kids are kids, and they act up and whatever, and they'll get a "Hey, stop annoying your brother, or you'll get a time out" or "Dudes, for serious, stop shrieking, or you'll get a time out." We will be warny mcwarnersons all day. But, for disrespectful speech, no warnings. Put your nose in the corner. I am an adult in this house, and I won't be spoken to in that way, and that's that.
Here's where the controversial part starts in this. I won't take a "kids are kids" stance on this. The sweeping generalizations of "teenagers have a bad attitude" won't fly with me. I've seen several IndyMoms threads over the years about the preteen roll your eyes and sigh crap, and I am telling you, no.effin.way. I know most of the parents just laugh it off as that's how preteens are and what not and "as long as Mabel does what I tell her to do, I don't care if she rolls her eyes while doing it." I just can't get behind it.
The thread that inspired this was entitled "How do you get your kids to help around the house?" It was a thread about making housework fun and tricking your kids into doing their chores. Not babies and toddlers, either, big kids. I was staring at this thing in absolute awe. Uh, in my house, you do what your parents ask you to do, and that's it. No tricks. No bribery. You do what needs done. You pick up after yourself, and you keep your space clean because that's what you do when you respect your family and their space. I'm sure when they are older, if they go above and beyond, they'll get some allowance, like they would at a job. I'm also sure that when they're older, if you don't do what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it, out of respect for your parents and your house, they'll have the same consequences they do now, toys will be taken. Right now, I'll take your Lego. When you're 17, I'll take your car keys. Same thing as always.
Wow, this is long. Aren't they always? There's lots more I want to say, but I think I'm out of time. I gotta get another cup of coffee and work on this paper on Iraq.
My next blog post will be about houses and babies and other happy things!!! Life is really, REALLY going great right now. The dudes are doing really well in school. The behavior problems from Little Man at school have really leveled off as he's adjusted, and the ball is rolling to get him talking to the school counselor, which I'm sure will seal the deal on his awesomeness. He mostly just acts like a normal 5-year-old boy now. No more violent outbursts and whatnot, just a bit of testing limits on when he has to sit down and stop playing, etc. Also, Big Man got Prospector of the Week last week, which means he is extra special helpful at school and got to have a trophy on his desk for everyone to see all week. He acted like it was no big deal, but I could tell he was proud. Also, I'm pretty sure he's doing some sort of insanely complicated math in his head all day every day. Too, because I'm sick of writing also, he started reading a chapter book! Captain Unnapants! I hope he enjoys it.
Ok, seriously, I have to figure out how to fix United States' foreign policy in the Middle East.
