Mom to the Screaming Masses

The "Fifty Things" List

No.

This is not the 50 Shades of Grey post.

Rather, it's a reflection on the list recently released into the Interwebs that listed Fifty Things that everyone should know how to do. I tallied them up - I can do 36 of the list. Some of them very well - I can jump start a car very well - my dad taught me to do that.

Oh. My dad has been visiting me. He's leaving tomorrow. I'm in the midst of a couple of pretty intense weeks with three trips and three sets of visiting relatives.

I can also:

• Hold a baby - duh
• Remove a stain - again, duh
• Type
• Sew a Button on to Clothing
• Navigate with a Map - the compass part, not so much
• Flirt - yes, I can do this one.
• Smile for the Camera
• Do Push Ups and Sit Ups properly
• Handle a Hammer, Axe or Saw
• Parallel park - I once parallel parked my 15 passenger van in New York City - oh, yes, I did
• Select Good Produce
• Relocate
• Give Driving Directions - I ROCK at this
• Speed Read
• Do Basic Cooking
• Drive a Manual Transmission
• Operate a Computer
• Use Google
• Build a Fire

The areas in which I am deficient - note that I'm only talking about the areas on this list, and not my entire life:

• Recite Basic Geography - I'm none so good at this.
• Negotiate
• Paint a Room  - I can do it, but not as neatly as my husband would like
• Speak at Least Two Languages
• Travel Light - because, no, just no

Things I can do but not well:

• Create a Budget
• Swim
• Handle the Police
• Win or Avoid a Fistfight
• Perform the Heimlich and CPR
• Tell a Story that Captivates Peoples Attention
• Deliver Bad News
• Handle a Job Interview
• Manage Time

What about you??

 

When is Business Just Yours, and When Does it Belong to the World?

I'm typing this way too fast and I'm really much too irritated to be posting - I probably should take a few minutes - or, heck, I dunno, DAYS - to think about this - but I'm not going to. I'm just free typing, based off a bunch of scrawled notes that I took today while I was in a session.

Oh. Yeah. I'm in Detroit. I'm on a trip for Ford that is awesome and spectacular and a badly needed break.

So. Why I'm so irritable. Other than normal irritability, that is, and we all know what level *that* might be.

I have slept very, very poorly for more than a few nights now. I've tried many things to work through it, but for various reasons, it's not happening. Lots of poor sleep + travel + a very late night + more than 3 whiskey sours with good friends + sleeping in a hotel + having to get up at 5:30 to be on time for breakfast = one super duper very tired Carmen today.

Having a Bad Day

Did you ever have one of those days?

Wake up early, on a day when you have no reason to wake up so early? After a cruddy night of sleep that might as well have not existed?

Go to an incredibly difficult exercise class, struggle through the entire way, and feel like total crap about yourself the entire time you work out?

Lose a friend, when you have so few to begin with?

Check your bank balance and just want to, you know, cry - but it's too much effort?

Look around your house and see the overwhelming stack of responsibility that falls on your shoulders - and know that you have zero desire to rectify any of the issues?

Struggle with most of your kids, and feel an utter futility about the future?

Wonder why you bother sometimes?

Or is it just me?

Surfing 101

Today was a very special day in our household.

It was Surfing Day.

Last year, Riley was privileged to be included in the Surfer's Healing Camp - a surfing camp for those with Autism. The entire concept is mind blowing and amazing, and I often feel like a bit of a poser participating.

Since I'm all about telling the complete and total truth, the first three years of her life were so, so hard. Incredibly difficult and draining. It wasn't until we went to a developmental pediatrician, who gave me a diagnosis on a prescription pad - a paper that I stil have, to this day - and a glimmer of hope. She wasn't just strong willed, I wasn't a bad parent, she wasn't lacking discipline - she had something different about her that made ordinary coping skills virtually non existent.

He told me how she was wired was different than typical, but something we'd learn to deal with and that she'd have to learn coping techniques - but it'd be ok.

He promised. And I held him to that promise.

Friendship

Let us see if I can manage to write out what I'm thinking without

• hurting someone's feelings
• Looking like a righteous - or not so righteous - fool
• forgetting to say something and needing to go back again (and again!) to clarify

I don't hold out much hope. It's been a really, really weird week for me. It seems abnormal to say that during the summer, but it really has been one weird week.

Ok. Deep breath.

I don't have a lot of friends. I don't say this for sympathy but just in the interest of getting it all out there. Some of you might disagree with me, but I really can count on one hand the people who I would say are friends. I'm mostly ok with it. Sure, I might like to be more popular, but I have a habit, some say a flaw - of always speaking my mind - which often gets me into trouble. I know *lots* of people. I have *lots* of acquaintances. I am friendly with lots of people who frequent the same places with me -

And I think that's the rub.

Just for Fun

What was the first album you ever bought? I mean, that with your own money, not had someone buy for you. Mine was The Police's "Synchronicity". I played that sucker to death.

The second album I ever bought? Billy Idol. The third album I ever bought? Stray Cats.

Go.

Being a Grown Up

Being a grownup is cool because you can drive and stay up late and drink coffee and all, but I am starting to feel that whoever wrote the brochure was not entirely honest about the whole experience, and would like to know who I can speak to about getting my money back. - Rebecca King, my friend online and on the Book of Face

Becki put this on her Facebook wall this morning and I canNOT stop thinking about it. She's exactly right.

Being an adult means that I can drink coffee all day long if I want. I can have it for breakfast, for lunch and even right before bed should I so desire. I remember being a kid and watching grown ups drink coffee, and thinking to myself, When I'm a grown up, I'll do that. I will know I'm a grown up when I can drink coffee.

My parents both drank their coffee black. There is no way in the world I could ever drink my coffee black. None. I'm still a grown up. That French press sits on my counter top all day.

But being a grown up means that when I make money, it immediately goes to the enormous stack of bills that resides right next to my computer - where I will never lose sight of them and forget to pay, say, a water bill. Not that I've ever done that. Nope, not me. Cuz grown ups never ever forget to pay a bill.

Being a grown up means that, should I find money in the washing machine, it immediately becomes mine - and then I use it buy bread. Or milk.

Grown ups are ALWAYS buying bread and milk. It's like they bathe in it or something.

Being a grown up means that I can stay up as late as I want - and I'm often the last person to make it to bed - but it also means that I'm the first person up in the morning. Being a grown up, above all, means being short on sleep every.single.day. I cannot think of a day that I haven't been tired since I was a grown up.

I bitterly regret all of the naps I tried to skip out on when I was young. I never understood why grown ups YAWNED so much.

Being a grown up means that when I walk in the house, I almost always go directly to the kitchen - not to grab a snack, but to wash the dishes and check out the fridge. Probably to see if we are out of bread. Or milk.

Man, I can't WAIT to be a grown up! Imma do what I want, when I want - and NO ONE is going to tell me what to do!

Well, no one IS going to tell me what to do - but if I don't do those things that I don't want to do - the laundry and the dishes and the bill paying and the disciplining and the difficult talks and the spanking, oh Lord, the spanking - the rest of my life is going to be much less enjoyable. Being an adult means that I have to be self motivated to roll out of bed, early enough to make sure the day will go smoothly for everyone, and not sleeping in until the last possible minute and to heck with everyone else.

Being an adult means that I can't jump in the car and drive to the waterpark. It means that I need to make sure I have sunblock/water bottles/towels/hand sanitizer/snacks for the car/hair ties and hats. It means that I won't be riding every ride - not that I really want to, anyway - but I'm an active participant in the Watch This, Mom - No, wait, that's not it - watch THIS! -  and nod and smile.

Being a grown up means that if I don't want to do something, I don't have to - but that lack of focus will almost certainly affect more people than just me and have longer, more far reaching consequences than I might ever anticipate. It means that I will almost certainly never have enough money, enough time, enough freedom or enough sleep. Being an adult means that I'm almost always worried about something or someone, often have three (or more!) situations in my brain that I'm mulling over at any one time and frequently am puzzling over something - probably having to do with situations that affect other people. 

But, there's the alcohol. That's a bonus too. (I'm kidding. Don't email me and tell me that you are concerned about my alcohol intake. Please.)

When I was a little kid, I desperately wanted to be an adult. It seemed so cool and so carefree.I didn't notice all the time that grown ups sat around doctor's offices for other people. Or, really, all the time grown up sit ANYWHERE waiting on other people.

Now that I'm an adult, I realize that being an adult definitely has some bonus moments, but I would give a lot to go back to the freedom of childhood.

 

 

 

Family Fun

My step daughter is visiting. It's been a wild and crazy couple of days, but ultimately, extremely enjoyable.

Last night, the adults went to karaoke. The family members who sang did an amazing job, but it was super smoky and the crowd was mostly very drunk, and I really didn't have a good time. I *hate* being around cigarette smoke.

Tonight, we went to a local Mexican Restaurant.

Table for ten, please.

My oldest son elected to spend the evening with his girlfriend, so our party was a bit smaller.

They had karaoke. It.was.awesome.

You can't smoke in a restaurant here, so the air was clear. People had a drink or two, but it was a much friendlier atmosphere. And we had a great, great time.

Enjoy the below videos - the quality is horrific, but my kids all love to sing. LOVE it. Each video isn't the entire song, but just bits and pieces. And all you can see if everyone's profile - but I still love the fact that we had a great time together.

Emma sang "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" with my step daughter in the background - you can't sing alone if you are under 13.

 

Gabe sang "Viva La Vida" - with my husband along for the ride.

 

Mackenzie sang "Love Song".

 

And, lastly, my husband a bunch of songs, but my phone died - I was only able to get one recorded - here is "La Bamba".

 

So, so much fun.

Summer Means Creativity

When you are home for the summer and kinda bored, you might create a store. You might call it:

The We Have Everything Store

Which truly does, you know, sell everything.

you can buy anything you might desire - and there's even a cup for donations, should you be so inclined

Very Expensive "You Can Decorate Them Dolls" are available

And, sometimes, you might have to close the store - maybe because you are bored and have no customers. Even though you've badgered each and every member of your family to buy your stuff, and you guilt them into hunting for change with your sighs of sorrow while you remain devotedly at your post for hours a day. Sometimes there are even tears involved. Maybe even by the Mom.

Actual sign at the store

The Worker of the Week Award - Personalized, Even

And, if you are very lucky, you get awarded the worker of the year award.

But only after you sign your contract.

 

The Issue with The Stomach

I have this one kid. Child X. I've referred to each of my kids at one point in time or another as Child X.

Child X has had a stomach ache for close to a year. Child X has lots of anxiety, and so we all (a couple of doctors + parents = a team in my book) considered that it was a nervous condition and worked on behaviour mods.

Didn't help.

We took lactose out of the diet. Didn't seem to help, as in the stomach aches still continued, but oddly enough, grew worse when we reintroduced the lactose - so out it stayed and the stomach still hurt. Child X burped and burped and burped.

Child X had such a tough year at school with bullying and educational issues that I was just certain it was a emotional issue. Child X blew through two industrial size bottles of Tums.