Mom to the Screaming Masses

Query

I was told something this week, and my reaction stunned me.  I was in Thai boxing class, and the teacher, knowing that I was struggling with mastering a particular move, in this case an elbow strike on a pad, said to me:

"Just do your best."

And, you know what?  It pissed me off. 

And that reaction surprised me, because I've said that EXACT same thing before to people, and not meant it negatively WHATSOEVER.  This time, though, I had a visceral reaction.  To me, hearing, "Just do the best you can do", while struggling with a difficult move, meant to me "You really can't do this, and I know it.  You won't be able to do it - it's beyond your capability.  So, as long as you give it a positive effort, it's ok by me.  Try as much as you want - it'll never happen."  Yeah, I know - almost certainly reading too much into this and making it ALL ABOUT ME - just like usual. Tough cookies.

So, what sez The Internetz?  What do you think when you hear "Just do your best."? 

Alternatively, what comment do you hear that absolutely sets you off, chaps your hide like no other, and makes you so wildly pissed that you can't see straight?

Everyone Loves A Bargain

And, most of all, me. 

This post is part of The Parent Bloggers Network Blog Blast - Everyone Loves a Bargain - where, just for blogging about your greatest bargain hunting success, you can win gift cards of either $50 or $100 to your choice of retailers. 

The summer that my first daughter was 18 months, I went to a yard sale.  I wasn't really looking for anything, just trying to kill time on a hot summer day while staying at home with two kids.  I don't have great luck at yard sales - some people I know can find amazing items, outfit their entire families for mere dollars and redecorate their houses with amazing skill and, well, I'm not that person.  I can eek out a find every once in a while, but it's rare.

Rifling through the clothes that were hanging, I stopped short.  There, right in front of me, was the Holy Grail of clothing - an almost new Gymboree winter coat, with a matching hat and ski pants.  I grabbed it before I thought - I was so anxious that no one else beat me to this, the find of a lifetime.  (At the time, I was an enormous Gymboree freak - I've calmed a bit, but I still like the stuff, although not as much as I once did.) There was no price on it, so I moved to ask the homeowner how much the set was. I knew that I had about $20 in my pocket, but knew that if it was more, I'd go to the bank.  I'd pay up to $40, I reasoned - although I hoped it wouldn't come to that.

$8.  For ALL THREE PIECES.

Ask me how quickly I bought it.

Fishing Fun With Daddy

Thursday night The Hubster was off work, and he wanted to do something fun.  So he picked fishing.

Yeah.  That's what I said.

My dad loves to tell the story of fishing with me and I refused to bait my hook.  I also refused to take the fish off the hook. What can I say - that stuff grosses me out.  My dad is a BIG TIME fisherman too - I was a disappointment. 

The kids had a ball.  As soon as Mackenzie cast her rod, she caught a fish.  Again and again and again.  At one point, she caught two fish at the same time.  Allegra, on the other hand, caught the smallest fish we'd ever seen, and one other.  That was it. 

Gabe was almost as successful as Mackenzie, and The Hubster was kept busy casting, rebaiting, and releasing the fish - no, we didn't keep them.  "I think I've got one!" was the constant call.  "No, this time, I REALLY think I've got one!"

More pics of the fun under the fold - I especially love the facial expressions that my kids have. We are definitely an EXPRESSIVE lot around these parts.

Breaking News From The Front

Release the breath you didn't know you were holding.  The borders from the deep excision are clean.  The doctor thinks that he got all of The Cancer.

Of course, being me, I do have to have two more "areas of slight concern" that need to be evaluated.  I wouldn't be me otherwise, now, would I?

Don't forget the great giveaways over on Scrutiny by The Masses.

I've got a new post up over at Zwaggle, and let me tell you what, I'm LOVING the birthday celebration they have going on.  I've already bought two Christmas presents.  If you don't want to spend all your money this December, you need to start early, and I'm having great fun sussing out bargains over there.

And, finally, this has been the summer of Undoubtedly Inferior Customer Service.  It's been brutal, no question about it.  But thank goodness it's not been as awful as this youtube video my friend Ann sent me:

Organization and Some Cool, Cool Stuff For You

Ok.  I know.  I need to chill. And stop complaining so much.

So, go over to Scrutiny By The Masses, and check out my giveaways and reviews.  I've got clothes for your bigger girls ( think sizes 6-12), the great America at Home book (with four chances to win your own copy - think about Christmas/Hanukkah gifts coming up!), chances to win new unders and socks for your family, and the chance to see a guy shave his head - yumm, bald guys.  So, go check it out.  BUT!  First.

Answer me this.

I've got tons of frequent shopper cards, multiple "buy 12 and get 1 free", business cards that I MUST keep track of, and just.  Stuff.

How do you keep all of that junk straight?  I find myself just taking another free punch card, and then, when I clean out my wallet, I have four or five with a punch or two each. I carry a pocketbook and it has a smaller zip case - they call it an iPod case, but mine holds my iPod, plus three lipsticks, my license, credit cards and a chunk of my own business cards. 

Some of the cards I carry - like the grocery frequent shopper cards - are small and I have them hung on my keychain.  But what about the rest?

I Can't Even Say That It Was a Bad Day

It was just - a day.

<sigh>

It's really telling that most of my days have been like this lately - just full of difficulty and frustration and, sadly, that has become so normal that nothing seems to faze me anymore.  That was today. 

Over the weekend, I bought shoes for my kids.  I wrote a post about it, but it was so whiny and self serving that it remains tucked firmly in my draft folder, where it will stay until my daughter needs to be blackmailed. Suffice to say, I took five kids shopping, and four of those kids bought two pair of shoes EACH in the first two stores we visited.  The fifth child, well, seven stores didn't fill the bill - and I put my foot down with the whining and the pouting and the fussiness - and I walked out of the mall.  She could come with me or not, I didn't care.  (Ultimately, of course - she followed.  Note to anyone wanting to be difficult - she was in my line of vision the ENTIRE TIME.)

It's Like This

For the first summer ever, I feel completely overwhelmed, to the point where I am (gasp!) avoiding the phone. 

I know.  It's a shock to me as well.  I normally love the phone and call everyone.  I live on the phone.

It seems that whenever I get on the phone, some cries and someone else fights and another one gets hurt and two more argue and the entire house gets trashed during one phone call - and so I just don't do it.  I can't.  I can't talk on the phone anymore - I'm fragmented and disorganized and can't hold it together in a conversation without a bunch of "stop that!"'s and "I mean it!"'s and "Leave her alone!"'s than I'm comfortable with in one conversation.  I don't feel that it's fair to the people I'm talking to, and so I've been avoiding the phone.

But then it becomes a problem.  Because it goes to the voice mail.  And I don't always check the voice mail, and so a day or two will go by, and someone will email me or get me on the phone.  And (rightfully), their feelings are hurt.  I get it.  I completely get it.  Then I try to have a conversation, and I'm interrupted a million and one times and when I get off the phone, someone is bleeding and someone is crying, the washing machine is beeping, the doorbell is ringing, a pair of eyeglasses is missing, an editor has emailed me that I've missed a deadline, someone has poured their own milk all over the floor, and I just give up. 

It's hard.  And I don't know the right answer.  I want to be able to talk for hours with my friends, but that's not going to happen after today's pound of Milo chocolate milk powder on the floor when I was chatting up my girlfriend.  It's no one's fault - it's just a timing issue. 

If I owe you a phone call, I'm sorry.  I just can't seem to get on top of anything.  I don't see how it will change - until school starts.

Maybe send me an email.  Now that I have my Crackberry, I'm much better at replying that way.

Please forgive me, and don't take it personally.

Eleven

This is what Eleven looks like in our house this year.  A soccer playing, new eye glasses wearing, Nintendo DS obsessed, Webkinz loving, bundle of energy and ball of fire.  A kid who never, ever, EVER sits still, who runs and jumps and burns off thousands of calories in a single day. A straight A student, one who excels at just about everything she attempts, much to the chagrin of her siblings.

A girl who is friends with literally everyone she meets, who is almost always sunny and happy and outgoing - if she's not, you can bet she's ill.

Happy birthday, Mackenzie.  I'm sorry I'm a few days late, but, then I wouldn't be your mom if I wasn't, right?

In Which I Question You All

So, here's a question for you.  Or a supposition, if you will.  Or, maybe it's just a gripe and a vent. 

I understand the logic behind a mandatory 20% tip on a party of eight or greater.  It's a larger party, requiring more work for the wait staff, occasionally mandating the use of two servers.  I understand that I should always aim to tip 20% OR GREATER, and if the service I receive doesn't equate to that 20% tip, I can, nay, should complain and request to speak to a manager.  I understand, now more than ever, that wait staff is paid a smaller hourly rate and it is expected that they make up the difference in tips, which are split with busboys and other staff.  So I do my best to tip.  I don't like to be told how much I should tip, but that's my own baggage.

What urks me, what gets up in mah grill, what aggravates me no END, is when a party of two adults, six children - totaling eight, which bumps one over to the mandatory tip  - is treated poorly, no matter where you go or how you ask, beg, politely request and flat out get up and go get a drink refill for your ownself.  What aggravates me is when one complains to the management, one is made to feel imbecilic for having that many children in the first place, you get what you get and be happy we allow you to eat here.

What plucks my remaining nerve is that this happens in restaurant after restaurant.  It happens in smaller places and larger, chain type places.  And my kids aren't bad in restaurants.  They might be cranky at home, but in a restaurant, they are good - or they don't eat.  And it's been pulled enough to know that I mean it.  No, when I say that they are good in restaurants, it isn't bragging - it's the truth.  They might not be able to walk through the mall without slapping each other, but sit them in a restaurant with free bread and they are still.  With full mouths.  I tidy up before we leave, stacking plates and picking up anything that's spilled.  This last time we ate out, it was a place we frequent, and the waiter looked OVER our heads the entire time.  And I got up to get my own napkin and a drink refill.

So, tell me.  Do waiters just hate big families and not want to serve them?  I'm probably a little sensitive to the dynamics of that, but it's the only logical explanation I can come up with. 

Or maybe, you know, it's just me. Which brings me to my question - thank GOD, I can hear you saying from all the way over here - what was the worst dining experience you ever had?
____________________
Want to know what we think of Hanes unders and socks?  Click on over to Scrutiny by The Masses, where there are more than a few new reviews up for your viewing pleasure!

My Interview - or Where I Take One For The Good of The Internet

I'm taking part in Neil's Great Interview Experiment, and I was tasked, believe it or not, with interviewing my good friend Shannon from Charming Bitch. I have NO idea how that happened - honest! I was just as surprised as you all! Here are my questions and her answers - remember, she's a bit more, uh, colorful than I typically am here, so don't read with your mom or your kids or your great Aunt Tildy - unless she's not easily offended. I'm not, and I adore Shannon. But you've been warned. :)

#1 - What made you get into trucking?

Well, I wrote about it somewhat in depth here but the long and short of it is this: I was doing something (phone sex operator) that allowed me to be at home and make a (really good) living while I was mired in the worst (post-divorce) depression in the history of the world. After 9/11 (explanation to the link to 9/11 in the aforementioned post), I knew I had to do something different but I absolutely could not face going back into an office and all the politics that go along with that atmosphere and somehow ''something different'' became going to truck driving school. I have been pretty lucky in life that most things I have tried I have taken to or learned relatively easily. I mean, I have two college degrees that I earned while working full-time and it still wasn't much effort, excepting the time factor. Trucking was not easy; I went to school literally everyday for 2 months. Log books, shifting, double clutching and navigation were easy but backing 70 foot of truck and trailer was not. It was the hardest thing I ever learned to do and I was incredibly satisfied when I mastered it. I can't do many things perfectly in this life but this I know: I can park a rig where you think only a VW bug would fit and I can parallel park any car, any truck, anywhere.

I was the only female in my class and that prepared me well for real world trucking where women are less than 5% of the three million truckers on the road. I have worked in many industries and nothing compares to the sexism faced by women in what has always been the manly world of trucking. No matter though, I love it dearly (the routing, the pay, the loads and back-hauls are all like a big algebra problem) and as that is how I met my husband, I cannot say I regret it.

#2 - You've been blogging for a while. How public are you with the blog in real life? Have you ever been burned by a person in your "real life" reading something on your blog you wish they hadn't?

I've always been open about it, mostly because it started more as a lark than anything else. I mean, I started it the summer of 2005 just prior to Katrina and when I look back at those first months, I am amazed at how much I have changed, how much my life has changed in that short passage of just three years (Katrina, marriage, pregnancy, birth and death of Jackson).

But to answer your question, yes I have always been open about the blog and that was a blessing during some of the rougher times; it was easy to keep family updated about Jackson without having to have the same painful, forced conversations over and over. I have never really been burned by real life people getting pissed over something they have read because it's rare that I would write something about a person or situation that I haven't said to them already. I have though, at times, regretted being so open about certain situations (infidelity, my sister's addiction) because in writing about your life, you invite both praise and criticism and sometimes, it's hard to hear the ''constructive'' in critique that is little more than, ''YOU SUCK!!'' On a brighter note though, D's mom (aka Drama Lovin Harlot) hates my blog like poison and that is all the reason I need to keep it up and open.