HOOLIGANS!!!

....the definition of the dudes when Indiana is under drought conditions with a heat advisory for nearly the entire summer, and stepmama is great big pregnant.  Drought conditions means no sprinkler or slip n slide.  Heat advisory means no trampoline or digging outside in the dirt or playing tag or hide and seek or even going out for longer than a few minutes at a time.  Pregnancy means no going down the dangerously steep hill to the lake or going to the Children's Museum for hours of walking.  Hence, we are all stuck inside all day every day.

This...it leads to fighting and a LOT of it.  The dudes have separate interests and completely opposite personalities.  The Big Man wants to play video games or watch TV and movies all day.  The Little Man gets bored after 10-15 minutes of screen time.  He prefers running around the basement making noise and playing construction or trains.  Big Man prefers to be alone.  Little Man won't play unless Big Man will play with him.  Therefore, Big Man has perfected the terrible tween "get out of my face" persona, while Little Man has honed his annoying little brother skills to absolute perfection.  After 10-15 minutes of being in the same room together, it begins:

Big Man: OOOOOW!  STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! OWSTOPIT! STOP! STOP! DON'T YOU DARE! STOP!
Little Man:  *shriiiiek giggle giggle*
Big Man:  O.M.GOSH.WHY.ARE.YOU.*insert yelling tattle here so that he doesn't have to pause his game to get up to tattle and instead yells so that he knows I HEAR the tattle*
Little Man:  *giggle giggle haha*
Big Man: STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!!! STOP IT! OOOOOOOW! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!  WHY DO YOU KEEP PUSHING ME?  *eyes never leave the TV screen but begins flailing hoping to connect with annoying little brother flesh*
Little Man: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!! KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAREN!  HE HIT ME!!!

Abouuuuuuut 452 times a day.  So, I separate them.  And all is quiet.  Until they are bored being alone and try to play together again.  Then, lather, rinse, repeat.  I try to play games with them.  One always accuses the other of cheating, then one will throw the cards or the pieces across the board and declare, "I'm not playing anymore!" and stomp off.  I try to take them out.  Constant complaints.  It's too hot out here.  My feet hurt.  The water's too cold.  I don't care that I had a popsicle before we left the house, I want you to spend money on ice cream now!  The drive is too long.  He's on my side of the car.  He's touching my blanket.  His blanket is touching my leg.  He looked at my car.  He said I cannot pretend that my car is an airplane.

I had to pull over on the side of the road for them to get out of the car and stand in the grass in time out yesterday.  I know it's normal and that it's boredom and that a lot of it is that we just moved and they only have one another to play with until school starts and they make friends at the new school, but for real...I need a bicker break!

They were fighting this morning.  I was chatting with my friend Amanda and told her I needed to make them lunch.  She suggested bread and water because, "if they're going to act like convicts..."

"Here's your bread and water."
"After lunch, I'm going to put you out in the yard with a weight bench and a basketball."
"After rec time, we'll go ahead and tattoo you guys with Mom hearts using a toothpick and an ink pen."
"Craft time will show you how to make a homemade shiv."

Damage Control

I have to go behind the couch in order to open the windows in the house.  I can no longer fit behind the couch.  Generally, I like to shut the AC off and open the windows in the mornings before it gets too hot, and then I'll close them and turn it on when the heat starts showing up.  I was going through the other morning doing this, and I had to get behind the couch.  I didn't fit.  The dudes were on the couch, so I asked them to get up for a second so I could move the couch out an inch or so.  The comments for this were as follows:

Little Man:  Yeah, we have to get up because Karen's body is so fat.
Big Man:  (attempting damage control)  No!  Her body isn't fat, it's just her belly that is really fat!

Er...it totally is.  I'm at the stage in pregnancy where I don't fit places that I used to and where I'm kinda sore and tired all of the time.  I'm about 28 weeks along and starting to feel like an elephant.  My feet and lower back hurt all of the time, and I feel exhausted if I climb a flight of stairs.  There's heartburn and uncomfortable (non) sleeping.  I'm ready to meet the Bot and cuddle her and love on her.  I have around 2 to 2-1/2 months to go.

I hired a doula!  I'm totally excited about this.  I was really worried about having someone there that can help calm me down.  I'm going for an unmedicated birth.  I don't want to do anything to slow her down coming out, and I REALLY don't want to do anything that would slow down her functioning after birth so that she can breastfeed right away.  I know my family will see me in pain, and as soon as I say, "OMGosh DRUUUUGGGGS!!!" they will not want to see me in pain and demand drugs, too.  A doula will remind me of my birth plan and calm me down a bit to work through it.  Totally excited to the max.

I had other stuff to say in this blog, but the dudes started fighting, and Big Man woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning with a hellacious attitude, so I needed to send him back to bed.  Then Little Man accidentally erased Big Man's Mario game on the Super Nintendo, and Big Man was all of the way to the end castle, so TRAGEDY!  I've been trying to console a crying Big Man and find another Super Nintendo to put in Big Man's room that Little Man can't touch so that this doesn't happen again.

*sigh*  Oooooh, the tribulations of a SAHM.  *hands to forehead.  dramatic sigh.  faint.*

A New Look!

So, the bloggy blog has a new look thanks to my friend, Alex, and her amazing HTML knowledge that reaches much, much further than my own.

What do you think?

What's That Smell?

A fun game, to be sure.  WTF is that SMELL?!?  I've been playing it all morning.  Is it the kitchen sink?

GAH, YES!!!  *clean clean clean scrub scrub scrub* 

*sniff*

OMGOOOOOOSH, what is that SMELL?! It's still here!  Is it the TRASH? 

YES! *remove remove scrub clean clean* 

It still smells like moldy buffalo ass in here.  WTF could it BE?  I'm about to shove bleach up my nose.

-------

In other stinky news:

A lot of Aspies have a very acute sense of smell.  I can't really describe it.  It's part of sensory processing disorder.  It's not that we can smell BETTER necessarily, it's more like certain smells connect different synapses in our brains that cause emotional response (big words make me sound smart.)  As such, smells are a big emotional trigger for me.  Right now, I've Febreezed the house to death and lit a million candles, and it still stinks in here, and I can't figure it out.

On a daily basis, though, as anyone who has little boys will tell you, my house has the distinct smell of old, crusty urine.  I play "where's that urine" a LOT, too, to try to figure out what exactly HAVE they peed on, and how can I best clean it as to not dig my sinuses out with a spoon.  It's like they mark their territory.  The dudes use three of the four bathrooms in this house.  The master bath is a little-dude-free zone.  When you walk by any of those three bathrooms, you have to hold your breath.  Or die.  The dudes clean the bathrooms on the weekends they are here.  I refuse to venture into those and prefer to just keep the doors closed at all times and pretend those don't exist and that my dudes poop in the woods.

So, imagine my surprise when I was upstairs (the kids' domain) today and forgot to hold my breath as I walked past the bathroom (with an open door) that the Big Man uses and smelled....nothing.  No pee.  That bathroom hasn't been cleaned in over a week, and there was NO PEE SMELL.

Have we reached a turning point, dear readers?  Has the Big Man finally learned that pee goes IN the toilet instead of AROUND the toilet, on the back of the toilet, on the floor, on the walls, or in the sink?  Has he learned how to flush properly?

Stay tuned...

Why It's OK to be the "Evil Stepmother"

I wrote this for Circle of Moms, and they reviewed it but didn't pick it up to publish, so that means I can publish it here :)

I'm an Evil Stepmother.  There.  I said it.  I make my stepdudes (6 and 8) clean up after themselves AND do some other chores around the house like taking out the trash or cleaning cat litter.  Messes they didn't even make!  I also put them in time out, take away their toys and send them to their rooms if they are being disrespectful.  I do not wait for Daddy to get home from work to deal with the problem.  I'm not another child in this house, tattling to Daddy.  I am an adult who is to be respected.  I am responsible for the safety and well being of these two little dudes when they are here with me.

If I had birthed them, this would be called "parenting".  Since they came from someone else's nether regions, it's not parenting, it's evil and not my place.  I'm here to say, "Heck, yes, it's my place!" for two reasons.
One, this is my home.  My sanctuary.  I have every right to live in a peaceful, clean, respectful environment.  Stepparents have just as much of a right to this as biological parents do.  I absolutely refuse to be a hostage to children in my own home.

The second reason is the more important.  It's because I love them.  The dudes are not visitors here.  This is their home, too.  They also have every right to a peaceful, clean, respectful sanctuary.  One without a brother taking toys away, calling names and having screaming fits when he doesn't get his way.  My stepdudes have the right to happiness and a loving home.

As a stepparent, it is my job to guide these dudes to be the most amazing adults they can be, just like their biological parents.  We can't do that if we allow them to disrespect me and our homes.  Notice the use of "we".  "We" is key in the discipline situation.  In your home, you and your husband must communicate effectively to decide what punishments go with what crimes.  He must back you up.  The kids need to see you as Team Super Parentals (Dun Dun Duuuuuuuuuun!)  Don't think they don't know how to pit you against your husband (or you and your husband against his ex-wife) for maximum juvenile benefit.  If he doesn't back you up, undermines your discipline (i.e. ungrounds when you've grounded), etc. it's all over.  Your children (step or not) will see you as a peer rather than an authority figure. 

Eight Crazy Nights

We have just gotten back from a glorious 8-day vacation aboard the Disney Magic!  Here's a picture of a picture, since I got a new machine and can't figure out how to install the scanner.

This is a family picture for the Bot's room :)  The nursery has a Paris theme, Belle's French.  It's a stretch.  Whatever.  I was hoping for one with Tiana.  Not only is she French (New Orleans French), but her pale green dress would go better in the nursery than Belle's sunny yellow one.  We, unfortunately, could never get in line early enough to get a photo with Tiana.  One of my only complaints about the Disney cruise experience.  If you didn't get in line 20 minutes early for a character, there was no way you were getting a photo.

The family "babymoon" was LOADS of fun, though, with even a little bit of relaxation thrown in there.  Disney has the Oceaneer's Club, which we let the kids go into any time they asked.  It was like a day camp in there!  There were counselors and other kids and tons of games and activities to play.  There were two little phones per room, and once the kids were tired or done playing what they wanted in the club, the club would text us to let us know that the kids wanted picked up, and we'd go get them for family pool time or dinner or a show or what have you.  There were two aspects of it, too, the Club and the Lab, so if the kids were annoying one another, they just self-separated, and one would go into the Lab to do different activities.  AND the spaces were open for "family time" for a few hours a day, so we could go in and do activities with the kids.  We made cookies!  And Little Man learned a new song, which he sings all of the time.  "I like to mix it, mix it.  I like to mix it, mix it!"  We were on the Salt team.  We kicked Pepper's butt.  The cookies were amazing.

We DID hear the normal bickering, of course, and it was annoying but funny at the same time.  It was annoying because we had to keep saying, "For Pete's sake! Knock it off!" but it was funny because every time we walked down the hall, we heard the EXACT SAME bickering from every set of siblings on the boat.  "It's MY turn to push the elevator button!  It's MY turn to use the room key!  I NEVER GET TO DO IT!!!!!" haha

While they were in the Club/Lab, Eric and I got to sit at Quiet Cove (adults only/scream-free zone!), or play basketball, or watch a real live Iron Chef-esque competition, or go see a show or a movie if we wanted (we never did, even though The Avengers was playing).  Eric got second in a free-throw tournament.  I got last place.  Even though I asked for 10 points of handicap for pregnant status.  Even with the 10 points, I still got last place.  Turns out, I can't really throw a basketball all that far :)  I also got last place in an 80s/90s music trivia game.  I blame that on pregnancy, too.  I KNEW those dang songs.  I just couldn't remember the names of them.  Big an won a ribbon

IIIIIII....I just died in your arms toniiiiight!!!  Had that on record when I was a kid.  Still couldn't remember the name of it.

The absolute best part of the experience was dinner.  Well, it was stressful for me and Eric because it lasted a long time to keep kids occupied, but it was AWESOME for the kids because of Jimi and Anna, our serving staff.  Little Man was constantly asking when they got to see them again.  They played with the dudes and entertained them and showed them magic tricks and remembered their names and sang happy birthday to them and knew all of their favorite foods.

We had a port day in Florida with a bus ride to the Magic Kingdom that was a bust, unfortunately.  It rained all day.  We all came back cranky and wet.  All of the rides shut down.  We did climb the Swiss Family Robinson Tree House at my request, which I thought was neat.  We got to ride Pirates, and then the kids got to do their first roller coaster, Big Thunder Mountain!

Little Man even put his hands up!  That daredevil.  Anyway, after that, the rain really started coming down, and the rides all started to close up, so we went and built light sabers and hopped back on the bus, down a hundred bucks.  I did get a really great blueberry muffin and enjoyed people watching a bit.

The day we came home was 15 hours cooped up in an airport or on a plane on the Big Man's 8th birthday (sorry, dude).  The kids took that like a champ, and Little Man only acted up once we were at our home airport four hours after his bedtime and only for like five minutes before he passed out in the car.

I have one really AMAZING memory that happened on the cruise.  The kids were in the club and Eric was out playing basketball.  I was just hanging out in the room relaxing, watching a movie, when The Bot woke up and started Ninjitsu practice in my tummy.  She was hitting me really hard, so I lifted up my shirt, and SURE ENOUGH! I SAW HER!!!  My belly was jumping all over the place.  I laughed so hard and immediately called Eric on the little cell phone from the room.  It was MAGIC!

This blog post is long and unfunny, but I wanted to write down some memories.

Love Blender

I'm changing the look, description and name of my blog this morning to "Love Blender".  The address will be the same, since Loveblender.blogspot is already taken, though it only has one post, and it was years ago, and it's not about anything parenty, so I'm sure it's fine that I take the name.  I'm writing a post for Circle of Moms about identity and definitions, and I decided The Autistic Stepmom is just too much definition for me.

Hope you enjoy the new format, and if not, poop on you!

I bought LuLunacy.com!

I want to put this picture on it.  Just have to figure out how :D

Creative...Discipline? Parenting? Party Games?

The east-side Indianapolis Walmart.  Always a grand adventure.  You all have one of these Walmarts in your town.  The Walmart everyone avoids because it is just TOO trashy to be seen near.  Not even a roll back to free hand sanitizer can get you in there unless you've been promised VIP status, and the Walmart will be cleared of all other customers before you set foot in it.  Yeah.  I was there today.  Herein lies the fun.

First, I get there at 10 a.m.   There are four items on my list.  I grab the first from the bakery and head to the toy section for a pair of swim goggles.  This is when my adventure begins.  Teeth cringing through some horrid country song on the PA system, I am relieved when it is shut off mid-song, thinking, "Oh, good, some generic announcement about $4 prescriptions is much better than that twangy crap."  But, was it an advertisement?  OH, NO! No it was not!  It was someone changing the station.  To a VERY loud, VERY vulgar rap song.  I actually had to stop my wonky cart with the gum stuck to one wheel (kerthump, kerthump, kerthump) to comment about it on Facebook.  Someone figured it out and shut it back off, and I was placed back into the hands of Carrie Underwood with a new appreciation for songs that don't say "bitch" every other word.

BTW, the east side Walmart?  Out of adult-sized swim goggles.  So, on to Electronics where a nice young person calling himself "Hennessey" assisted me for 0.35 seconds before he was pulled away from a customer (me) for a very important mission with a handrolled cigarette back behind the box bailer.  His replacement cashier was an extremely thin woman with "RIP some dude" tattooed on her neck who was chewing gum with her mouth open so wide that she may have won a cud-chewing contest against six prized dairy cows.  She couldn't get my gift card to work.  "I can never get them gift cards to work right."  Them.  Them gift cards.  *sigh*  Faith in humanity?  Destroyed.  Kerthump, kerthump, kerthump I go out of the store.  Finally.  Where I see the most disturbing thing I've seen in quite a while...

Walking to the car behind me was a woman and a young boy, perhaps 10 years old.  The boy was in handcuffs.  Behind his back, cuffed.  The woman was NOT a police officer.  In fact, by the resemblance, I would assume she was his mother.  He did not seem distressed or disturbed by his cuffs in any way, meaning he wasn't trying to fight them or anything.  He didn't seem sad or upset, either, or even all that embarrassed.  She had the key, so SHE cuffed him.  She uncuffed him so that he could get into the car.

WTF, T?!?!?  I was trying to make up stories to why this is possibly happening, but most of them in my head were really disturbing.  Like, he has special needs and flails and needs controlled.  But, for real, I think that's considered abuse.  Then I thought, maybe this is some sort of creative discipline.  Maybe, junior got caught shoplifting or something.  "For our next 20 trips to the store, young man, your hands will be cuffed behind your back so that your sticky fingers can't touch anything!"  Then, in my head, I said, "haaaaaahahahahahahha!"  I've often thought about what kinda creative discipline I would employ if I caught my kids shoplifting when they got older.  That may go in the hat.  I was thinking I'd have them go on the PA system in the store and apologize to all of the customers because of the higher prices due to the five-finger discount he was trying to employ.  "I was just trying to get a discount, Karen!  You love a good deal!"

As I left the east side Walmart, there was, of course, a lady standing at the intersection with a sign asking for money.  I didn't give her any.  Hardly anyone I know gives these people money, but lots of other people do.  I don't give them money mostly because I don't carry cash.  Other people's reasons are different.  Like, "I don't know what they are going to do with it."  I don't know what my waitress at Steak N Shake is gonna do with her money, either, but I still tip her.  Maybe I'll start giving them coupons instead.  That way, I KNOW they are spending it on 3 boxes of Keebler crackers 12 oz size or bigger.  Or, "I saw on the news that those people make a ton of money and aren't really needy."  The lie that they are homeless or needy IS annoying.  However, I don't care if they make a ton of money.  They do work for it.  Standing up for 8 to 10 hours on the side of a highway in all kinds of weather seems like the shittiest job ever.  At least they are their own boss.  Hey, they're livin the dream!  No workin for the man for those folks!  You take that vacation day if you need it, Harold!  No one can stop you!

Those Oddball Attachment Parents

So, this horrid Time magazine cover has spotlighted two things.  One, the mommy wars, so eff them for that.  “Are You Mom Enough?”  Yes.  Thanks.  I don’t even have to read your stupid article to know that I am.  I won’t be reading it, as it is, as something as ridiculous as that will certainly not earn any of my money.  The second spotlight, and what the article pretends to be about when it is really about sensationalism, is attachment parenting.  That’s what this Snoop Bloggy Blog is going to be about.  Breastfeeding, co-sleeping, baby wearing, etc.  All are signs that you are an attachment parent.

So, when we got pregnant I had lots of ideas for my labor and delivery and how we were gonna feed the baby, etc.   Turns out, we’re kinda attachment parents, by frugality and convenience really.  Now, I had heard the term before, but I have never read anything about it.  I’d never heard of Dr. Sears, and I still haven’t read anything he’s ever written.  I had heard of and read Dr. Laura.  Off topic, but eff that snooty mcsnootsnoot.

Attachment parenting is the subject of much ridicule.  I was unaware of this.   Because…why?  This makes no sense to me.  I’m gonna breastfeed this kid.  Why does that mean I get ridiculed?  Formula is expensive, dudes!  Breastfeeding is like the ultimate extreme couponing but without the hoarding.  Er…scratch that.  Ask me again when I’m engorged and nowhere near a baby or a pump.  I’ll be all BREAST MILK HOARDERS!  TONIGHT ON TLC.  Anyway, there hasn’t been much discussion from people about this other than my husband and my doctor saying, “Hey, how you gonna feed the bot?” and me responding, “Through these AMAZING boobs!”

Apparently, though, once I actually start feeding my kid, in real life, instead of just talking about it, I will get points and stares.  The heck?  This makes NO sense to me.  I will also get points and stares if the kid is crying and I DON’T feed it, because, “Hey, shut that kid up.”  Oh, man, I didn’t even know she was cryin, dude!  Thanks for pointing that out!  Lemme go ahead and duct tape her mouth for your convenience, since I’ll get even more rude comments if I actually FEED her.

Ok, ok, fine, I understand about some of the ridicule or why there is ridicule.  Breastfeeding makes others uncomfortable.  Not my problem, really, and I’ll feed the bot whenever or wherever he’s hungry if he’s with me, but I do see the other side of the coin as to WHY there is “debate” about this.  I also wanna breastfeed the bot until at least a year old and then slow weaning at nighttimes until maybe 2 or so, because this LINKY LINK!    

It’s from the American Academy of Pediatrics, so not one doctor trying to sell a book but lots of doctors who are peer-reviewed and have different ideas about stuff.  Scientists, not sensationalists.  It says breastfeeding to a year is preferred, so I’ma do that.  Big kids attached at the boob is debatable, too.  I don’t care, really.  I’m not gonna take pictures and put it on the internet, but I’m gonna do what I think is best for the bot.  Still, I get why people talk about it.  It’s not the norm in the US.  Whatever.

What I DON’T understand a debate about is babywearing.  I had no idea this was so controversial.  I still don’t understand WHY it is so controversial.  I bought a sling and a Baby Bjorn and a hip carrier.  I registered for a Moby wrap.  I didn’t know this was weird or not normal.  Hell, the picture on the Baby Bjorn of a dude wearing the baby looks like it was taken in 1982.  (Note to manufacturer.  Maybe it’s time for an update, hmmm?)  Then a post popped up on my mom’s site about people getting stares and points for wearing the baby.  Wha?  Then a friend was discussing the ridiculous Time cover on her Facebook page, and someone replied with “whole insane goddamn sling thing”.  Uh, double WHA??  Wearing a baby is “insane?”  I’m gonna do it because have you ever lugged that danged, heavy-ass pumpkin seat around with you wherever you went?  It seems so much easier to just pop the kid in a carrier, and you can be hands free, right?  I cannot even remotely find the logic in thinking that people who wear a baby are weird or that it’s an insane thing to do.  There was no explanation as to WHY it is insane.  Just that it is.  Can someone explain this to me?  It just seems so…convenient!  Kid in a backpack, instead of bicep curls with the baby seat walkin through the mall and trying to figure out the crazy travel stroller thing while the kid screams in the back of the car because you’re out of her line of sight for 30 seconds while you unfold the thing.  I thought I was gonna wear this baby in order to KEEP my sanity. 

Also, been practicing with the cat.  The tail has been a problem, but I think the wiggle factor is about right.

 

I don’t have anything to say about co-sleeping.  I’m not putting my baby in my bed.  Though, the bot will be NEXT to the bed in a pack and play with a raised bassinet attachment.  Again, convenient.  I can just slouch on over there, put him in the sling and shove a boob in his mouth at 3 a.m.

I’m WEIRD?  Huh.  Well, putting a cat in the sling IS weird, but in general.  I mean, I’ve never pointed and stared at a kid breastfeeding or being fed formula, or in a baby wrap, or in a stroller.  I don’t plan on starting either, now that I know that some of these practices are abnormal, apparently.  This all just seems so strange to me.  I always assumed that we were all doing the best we could with what our guts told us to do.  That we were ALL “mom enough.”