16 and pregnant

...a modern day version of the immaculate conception.

If you are easily offended by religious satire, please skip this post. In fact, you might want to skip most of my posts.

Mary: (sob) Mom, (sob)... I think I may be pregnant.

Mom: (Imagine the panicky voice from "A Christmas Story" when the mom found out her son said a bad word.) Whaaaat? Whaaat?

Mary: I didn't get my period!

Mom: Dammit Mary! Don't they teach you sex-ed in school? How did this happen? How am I going to tell your father?

Mary: Yes, they teach us sex-ed. But I swear, I didn't have sex!

Mom: Mary, so now you are not only a slut, but you're a liar too? Please, do you think I'm a idiot or something?

Mary: No mom, you're not an idiot. An angel came to me and told me that God would make me pregnant.

Mom: That's it! I'm suing your school district.

Mary: What, why?

Mom: Why? Because isn't the school district always at fault and responsible when a minor does not behave properly or breaks a law outside of school. Isn't their responsibility to raise you with morals and respect. It certainly isn't MY fault you're knocked up.

Mary: Mommmmm! Ugh, you always have to embarrass me! Can't you leave me alone??

Mom: (Slapping her forehead) Oy Vey! C'mon, let's go take care of this.

Mary: NOOOOOO! Joseph said he was going to marry me anyway.

Mom: Joseph, the carpenter? That schmuck is the father?

Mary: No, I told you the Holy Spirit, God, is the father. I have been seeing Joseph and he wants to marry me.

Mom: And Joseph believes this cockamamie story?

Mary: Yes, we both had a visit from Angels. Except my angel told me to name the baby Immanuel and his angel told him to name the baby Jesus. It's gonna be a boy!!!!

Mom: Well, if you're going to have this baby, I want you to name him after my father, Saul.

Mary: We'll see about that. Are you going to throw me a shower?

Mom: No, Jews don't have showers, it's bad luck. I'll buy you something after the baby is born.

Mary: But how am I going to have the stuff I need for the baby?

Mom: Why don't you dump Joseph the carpenter and tell Ira the accountant or Joshua the lawyer that they are the dad? Who ever heard of a blue collar Jew anyway? Can you imagine having Shabbot dinner with Joseph's parents? The mother is such a meeskite.

(Translation -Meeskite = yiddish for ugly woman).

Mary: Well, I already called MTV and they are coming tomorrow to start documenting my pregnancy. They'll put cameras up in the house, follow me around and I'll even get to give birth on tv!

Mom: Great, so now not only will I be a grandmother at 45 years old, all the yenta's at the salon are going watch my life unfurl on tv. You're not going to say on tv that you are virgin are you? Everyone will think I'm the mom of a crazy girl. I swear, if I get kicked out the country club for this, I am disowning you.

Mary: No mom, you'll be the star of the country club. Because, guess what? MTV is also going to feature our family and baby Jesus' first year on Teen Mom too! Awesome!

Mom: MOISHE, HUNNY, Get me some Xanax, NOW!!!!!!!!!

Stay Tuned (please)

I know, I haven't posted in quite a while. But I have a valid excuse. You have all heard of the saying "making a long story short". Well I'm about to make a short story long.

My husband is allergic to chicken. I kind of get sick of eating beef sometimes, plus it's not so good for chloesteral to keep eating meat. Anyway, I was looking for a recipe for ground pork, and being raised Jewish, it's not like I had too many learned pork meals.

I went on google and did a search for ground pork sandwiches. I got a list of good choices and picked one that sounded interesting. Bad move. When I clicked on the link, I got a website called You Porn. Like You Tube. Same design and everything. After my eyes registered what I was seeing..my computer went bezerk. I was screaming at my computer, "I SAID PORK! NOT PORN!!" I now can no longer get internet access, and quite frankly I'm a little scared of it too. I need to find someone who can fix my computer. He not only has to fix my computer but also not rip me off at the same time. In addition, he can't be skeptical of my story. I don't need him thinking I'm a pervert and then want me to pay in porn trade or something.

I am using my husband's work lap top to write this apology / explanation. Please don't give up on me. Keep checking StaceySaidIt. I will have something new soon. Thank you.

Sex, Lies and Videotapes

My daughter just entered the 1st grade and is a beginner reader. I'm so happy that she has learned how to sound out letters to form words and I am excited for the doors that will open for her. I am an avid reader and I can't wait to share my favorites from my childhood with her.

However...yes,there is always a however, sometimes life would just be easier if her intelligence / development was limited.

I know it's an awful thing to say, especially out loud. But as a parent, at times normal development can cause more problems. For instance, many parents think it's a pain in the ass when a baby is in diapers. Schlepping all that crap with you. Diapers, wipes, rash cream, extra clothes, etc. But wait, just wait until they are just starting out in underwear. You think, "hooray! No more diapers!" Not so quick. At least when they are in diapers, they poop or pee in their pants and when you find the bathroom (I'm talking social setting here, not your house), you change them. When they are in the early stages of underwear, and they say "I gotta go", all the sudden it's PANIC TIME! Have you ever tried to find the bathroom in a mall? It's never where you would think like by the food court or in children stores. It's always in some remote corner of a department store or the actual mall. The goal is to find the bathroom and actually get to it before it's too late. Which is easier? Cleaning up a dirty diaper, or cleaning up pee or poop on the floor and getting wet pants, underwear, socks and shoes off of a child in public? This is what I mean about sometimes it's easier when children are limited to their development.

Recently, I had a dilemma because now my daughter can read, kind of. We were in the video store looking for something for me. As I am browsing we had the wonderful luck of passing "Sex in the City". My daughter turns to me and asks "What's s-e-x in the city?" I quickly remembered that over the summer she came home from camp singing the Katie Perry song "California Girls" and she was singing the words "SAX, ON THE BEACH (BLAH BLAH BLAH)". I was very unhappy that she knew that song, but pleased that she was singing "sax" and not "sex". After pulling that from my memory bank, I replied "Sax in the City". She accepted my answer and topic was forgotten. Whew, challenge completed.

Until, we get in the car. Let the games begin!
Daughter: Mom? What are sax?
Me: Ummm, sacks, like potato sacks.
Daughter: What are potato sacks?
Me: like bags, that hold potatoes.
Daughter: Why would they have potato sacks in the city?
Me: I don't know! Stop asking questions!

This is exhausting. But then I hear my daughter sounding out her vowels, just like she was taught and just like we practice every night Monday through Friday.

"ah, ah, ah". "eh, eh, eh". "Hey mom! An 'E' does not make the 'ah' sound".

I am really so friggin glad she's learning how to read.

Getta Room!

I want my own room.
I want my own room!
I.....WANT....MY...OWN....ROOM!!!!

I have never, ever (well maybe a brief span of time in my 20's) had my own space

Even when I was conceived I had to share the womb with my sister! I'm sure she kicked me and pulled my hair, if I had any, when we were in there too. I know for certain that she bullied me out. How? I came out first, that's how. She probably gave me a big push or kick and forced me out of my mom's birth canal. Then, while I was getting all cleaned up and checked out, she pretty much had seven minutes of alone time with our mother. Totally not fair.

When we got home, we shared a crib for a while. You see, back then in the olden days, doctors didn't participate in full disclosure. My mother was in the dark about having twins until dooms day. Therefore, I had to share MY crib with my sister. How do I know it was my crib and not hers? Well, I was born first, of course. That means I was the "intended" one and she just kind of tagged along like a 3rd wheel.

Once she got her own crib, it was in my room. We shared a room forever! It was awful! Getting yelled at to get out of my own room because she was on the phone. Fighting over whether we slept listening to the radio, tv or nothing. Complaints about breathing too loud. Basically having nowhere to escape. I got my own space at the ripe age of 17. Just in time to go to college and what? Share a dorm room!

I had to share a room with 2 other girls. It was like a jail cell except you were allowed to leave and you had to provide your own meals. Three girls, one closet, one phone (remember, no cell phones back then) and seperate cycles if you know what I mean. Sharing a dorm room wasn't all that terrible..until of course you find out that over break your roommate stole all your Au Coton clothes and didn't pay the phone bill even though you gave her money. And that was the roommate that you got along with.

So then, after college, I spend a few more years alone in my walk in closet, er, bedroom that I did not have to share. Then I go from daddy's house to husband's house. Well, to be fair, husband #1 never came home at night because he was probably out screwing some skank. Sooo, it was kind of like I had my room, but by default. I still shared it..it was ours, per se, his shit was in it. It's not like I could totally call it mine.

Now I share a room with husband #2 (and hopefully he's the final). Love him to death, but want my own room. Top reasons:
1. He farts in bed. I feel like the marital bed is sacred and farts contaminate it. Even after it diffuses. The noise along with the odor is offensive. It should not happen in my room.
2. He makes fun of the shows I watch. Hey, If I wanted commentary I would have watched it in the "common areas" of our house like the living room. If I had my own bedroom, what I watched would be my prerogative and I would not have to defend my poor decisions.
3. Another tv issue..if I'm lying in bed "watching tv", (sometimes I watch tv with my eyes closed and not even facing the television), he feels he has carte blanche to change the channel. Bullshit. Whether I am watching it by staring at it or just listening, if I was in there first, it's my call.
4. His mess is my mess. Clothes on the floor, disorganized stuff on the dresser. I was never such a slob until I got married and shared a room.

Somehow my bedroom has also become a dumping ground for my kids' stuff. Before I go into bed, I have to pull up the covers and examine for Barbie dolls, stuffed animals, head bands and miscellaneous toys. Or else I end up crawling into bed and then discovering these items under my back or at my feet.

My kids have a room in the house designated solely for their play. Toys, tv, no furniture other than a little princess table. They also have their bedrooms. We have a living room that we all share. We have an office that basically my husband uses. Where do I go when I need to hide? Where is my play room? Why can't I have a place that I don't have to share??? Waaahhhh!!!! I want my own room!!!

Bully.

There has been a lot of attention in the media these days about kids bullying kids in school. Some of the victims of bullying are going to extreme measures to avoid being bullied by killing themselves. This is disgusting and heart breaking. Schools and other organizations are brainstorming to find ways to send a message that kids should be more compassionate and to be more excepting of peoples' differences.


Hate to say this but: IT AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN. What's that old saying? A tiger doesn't change his stripes? Adults are always trying to change the behavior of kids when the adults themselves do not display the same behavior. For example, let's say that you invited Johnny Jr's. friend, over for a playdate. Johnny Jr's. friend is playing with Johnny's favorite toy. Johnny is not too pleased about that and rips it out of his hands. You try to diffuse the situation and make nice by saying, "Now Johnny, you must share your toys. It's rude not to let him play with it". Now, let's say the friend's mother returns to bring her kid home and she sees your cherry red 1963 Corvette (I know, they didn't have Cherry Red back then, but this is about principle and not details). She mentions that she would like to "play" with your Corvette and can she take it for a ride? Will you follow your own advice that it's rude to not share? Probably not. I know this isn't on the same level as bullying but I'm making the point of expecting children to behave differently from what they are actually taught by example.

I witness adult bullying all the time: Parents bullying coaches. The person tailgating you while you are driving the in the slow lane. Idiots shopping at the mall around Christmas time.

The only way to cure bullying is to teach your children to be prepared for it. Let's just say, IT WORKED FOR ME! Picture this: growing up I had huge boobies, zits on my face, unruly hair. Ok, that's just the physical. Inside I was shy, introverted and very emotional. I know, I sound like a prize, right? I was picked on constantly! Who do you think the predators were? Good looking classmates? Peers who were more confident and social? Nooooo. It was my own siblings! They tormented me! If my parents had established anti bullying and no tolerance laws I would be an only child by now! When I was a child, I cried All..The..Time. Then, my siblings would make fun of me for crying and I would cry even more!!!!! Bullying at home does not sound like the most kind and rewarding thing to do. However, when I was older I didn't get offended by mean comments made by others. I didn't freak out when the boys called me Dolly Parton. My skin had already been made thick. Compare bullying to driving. You can't control the stupid drivers, but you can learn to avoid accidents by learning how to drive defensively.

Moral of the story: You can't stop people from being assholes. Kids don't have the cognitive ability to realize cause and effect and they don't realize what it might do to the victim over time. Let's stop the nonsense of kids killing themselves because peers bully them! Bully your kids or siblings at home and get them prepared for the real world!

Smokin

The only time people are genuinely happy to see a smoker is when they need a match. Have you ever gone to a birthday party and there's no match to light the candles? That's when the host walks around with a big smile on her face and asks, "Do you smoke?" Normally the host would be annoyed at a smoker but this time she has a sparkle in her eye, a glimmer of hope that someone's gross habit can benefit her.

Truly, this is NOT a lecture on smoking. I could not care less if someone is a smoker. In my opinion, it's your body, you do what you wish with it. Even if the decision is a stupid one, it's your decision, your body and only you pay the consequences. Wanna smoke crack? Inhale glue? Add piercings or ink to your skin? Hit yourself in the head with a frying pan? Go on ahead!!! Do it to yourself. What do I care? To be honest, if cigarettes tasted like chocolate cake or an apple martini, I would be all over it. (Any marketers out there...you might want to pick up on this tip).

The one thing I absolutely hate about people who smoke is that they are litter bugs!!! Ok, like smoking isn't gross enough but do you have to drop your ashes and the butt of the cigarette wherever you happen to be? I was at the beach, alone for once and I relished in the tranquility. I was sitting in my beach chair, eyes closed, fingers grazing the sand. Aaaaaahhhh. But then, ICK! Fucking ICK! While combing my fingers through the sand I grabbed someone's finished cigarette. I wanted to vomit!!! It totally ruined my zen mood. It's just disgusting. Do I know where this person's mouth has been? What kind of germs am I going to get by touching this person's saliva? Even more so, why can't this smoker get off of his or her ASS and throw the butt in the garbage? Then I even made myself more nauseous by convincing myself that I was not only combing my fingers through the sand but through cigarette ashes too.

Let's just say I have a habit too. Not not a terribly harmful one, but I'm addicted nonetheless. For the sake of this argument, let's say my habit is picking my nose (wink, wink). Is it disgusting? Yes. Will it harm me? I'm sure eventually it will. Here are the effects of nose picking:

You can open the door to bacteria and infections. Avid nose-pickers may see more pimples in and around the nose due to increased oil deposits from the fingers. For a very small minority of the nostril-inclined, the consequences of their behavior have been nothing to sneeze at. You can brake a blood vessel that require cauterization (a burning process that deadens tissue) to halt the bleeding that resulted.

Now, nose picking is not as controversial as smoking but imagine if I'm a flicker. When I'm done with my booger, what if I decide to just leave it anywhere, like a smoker would do with his ashes or butt. What if leave it on a stair railing and you touch it? That's like vomit level of gross, right? What if I flick it and it accidentally lands on you? Ewww, I'm shivering with the thought. And even worse, but kind of serious, what if I pick, draw blood or not draw blood and then open a public door without washing or sanitizing my hand? ..And you're the person who touches that door handle right after me!!!! Now do you see my point?

How about a less serious issue. My habit now is chewing gum. I open the wrapper, and if I take the route of a smoker, I will throw the wrapper on the ground. Why? Because I'm done with it, that's why. That's what smokers do. They throw their trash on the ground. Then I chew. Now I'm done with the gum. Should I go out of my way to find a safe way to dispose it? No, I'm following the footsteps of a smoker. I throw it down, that's most convenient for me. Do I care if someone steps in it and tracks it with them? Not really. It's not my gum anymore so I don't really care what happens next.

Same goes for smokers. What do they think happens with their ashes and butts when they are done? Just because THEY are finished,doesn't mean it just goes away. People walk through their smoke (because they HAVE to stand in front of the doorway) and take home the smell with them. People walk through their ashes and bring it via soles into their car and homes.

I'm sure I'll hear shit from smokers...and I say go ahead! Leave a comment! I would love to hear your point a view (click on the comment button below if you dare). All I ask is that if you are going to destroy your lives, go ahead, just BUTT out of mine. And give hoot, don't pollute.

Generation Cry Baby

Lately, society has been giving titles to generations. "Generation X" "Generation Y". I do not know where they originate from but I have dubbed the new generation:

WELCOME TO GENERATION CRY BABY!

Today's PARENTS are such friggin cry babies and our current legislation keeps coming up with ways to change the laws so that no one is offended. How is our future generation going to be tough enough to fight in the military or to hold prestigious positions? The parents of today would rather cry and sue over mundane issues than teach their children a life lesson. It's really quite annoying. Here are some examples that drive me absolutely bananas:

Let's start with T-ball, soccer, etc.: EVERYBODY GETS A TROPHY???????? Give me a fucking break! You win the game, you get a trophy. Loser either cries and gets over it or just enjoys the game and goes home. But because some kids whine when they get home after losing...and the parents don't want to hear it..now the losers get trophies too. I totally blame the parents. I have played numerous games of Candy Land with my daughter. She seriously flips out when she does not get the ice cream card. So I give her a choice. She can continue with the game, have fun and see how it turns out. The result will be the same. If she wins she gets nothing and if she loses she gets nothing. OR, she can go in her room and play by herself, because if she continues this behavior she will not have any friends to play with and she will have to become accustomed to being by herself. What does giving trophies to everybody teach our children? It teaches them to be self entitled. They will believe they are entitled to money, promotions and awards that they didn't earn. This is a huge disservice. Why would they bother trying hard or striving for success? By the way, have you ever seen the losers of the Super Bowl get a ring? I haven't.

NOW PARENTS ARE SUING SCHOOLS??????? Absolutely ridiculous! I recently read a story in the paper about a parent who is suing the school because the teacher did not hang their daughter's essay on the wall along with the other students'. The teacher explained that the task was to write an essay about your summer vacation and what you did. Instead, the student wrote about her mother being sick. Is that following directions????? The parent's irrational response was to threaten to sue the school. A bit of an overreaction, don't you think? The better response would have been to review the assignment with their daughter and suggest she follow the instructions, maybe re-do the assignment to comply with what was requested. But parents of today can not accept blame, cannot accept their child has a flaw, even if was as temporary as not following the rules..and cannot discipline their children in order to guide them to their future.

NO PEANUT BUTTER IN THE SCHOOL: I have a funny feeling that I am going to surprise you all but I agree with the school (and no, I don't have children with allergies). A few years ago, in my hometown, a notice went out to parents of a school explaining that a girl who is highly allergic to peanut products will be enrolled. Her parents and the school would like the cooperation of everybody to not bring peanut butter into the school. The school would also be making accommodations by having the child sit at a "special" table in the cafeteria. Is not being allowed to bring peanut products to school inconvenient? Yes. Is it unfair to students who don't have peanut allergies and really like to eat peanut butter sandwiches? Perhaps. But the reaction that the school got from the parents was absolutely ridiculous!! Instead of keeping in mind that this girl could die, YES, DIE, from being in contact with peanut products, they focused on how upset their precious child will be if they can't have their peanut butter sandwich. Plus, it's so much easier for the parents to just slap together peanut butter on bread. Wouldn't this be the perfect opportunity to have your child open their minds to different lunches? Is it really that hard to make cream cheese and jelly instead of peanut butter and jelly? What about a turkey sandwich? It's so easy: bread, turkey, maybe cheese mustard or mayo. Not any extra steps than peanut butter. Better yet how about using this event to teach your children a little compassion? Wouldn't it be a great idea if instead of parents crying that their family is slightly inconvenienced they stress the importance of a human life over a sandwich??? Children on Generation Cry Baby will grow up valuing food and convenience over humanity.

I think the Crybaby Generation started with the act of being politically correct. This practice of being politically correct has gone completely overboard! The original intent was to eliminate prejudices but now it has gone so far that people can't say anything without the fear of insulting someone. For instance, lets use race as an example. Apparently now using the description "Oriental" is offensive. Why??? I don't get it. If a person appears to be from the Orient region of Asia..why not use it as a descriptive term? Instead, the term,"Asian", is preferred. But Asian is more broad and covers more countries. If I am trying to describe a mugger to a police sketch artist and I say "Asian", he/she wouldn't know whether to draw the picture as a Chinese person or a person from India or Israel. But if I say "Oriental" he can assume that the person has a slant to his eyes, right? Another thing, how the heck am I supposed to look at someone and decide if he or she is African American???????? A person can be white and be African American...or a person can be black, but his/her ancestors as far back as great grandparents can be from United States. I certainly don't expect people to look at ME and try to find the politically correct description. If they did that with my child, they would be politically INCORRECT in saying "Caucasian". That would be offensive, according to the current rules. They would have to use psychic skills to come up with the true identity of Polish, Italian, Russian, Hungarian (I could go on) American. These Generation Crybaby'ers are going to drive us insane trying to figure out what we can and cannot call each other. How about this instead: I call it like I see it, and if I'm seeing it wrong, correct me. That should be what being politically correct really correct means.

Would you believe that the term "Gifted Child" has been made politically incorrect by Generation Crybabies????? What? That's a fucking compliment! And if my child was gifted, I would be shouting it! But instead, the correct term is "Advanced Learner". Seriously, a rose by any other name......? I believe that this is not geared towards the "Advanced Learners" but more likely, the Crybabies whose children are not gifted were offended and jealous and put up a friggin stink about it! Does changing the name make their kids any smarter??? Uh, that would be a big fat NO. Why don't they focus on spending time with their children, teaching their children, taking away the video games and constant television and make their child use their imagination...then THEY can call their own child gifted.

Ok, I'm about to hop off my soap box here. So this post was more venting than funny..but hopefully this cycle of Crybabyies will end!!!! I fear for my children's future when children of Crybabies lead the world. This country won't be protected because we don't want to offend our enemies. The world will be made up of slackers because why should anyone strive for success when awards will be doled out to everyone regardless of achievement? And there will be an island for people with peanut allergies as not to inconvenience the rest of us without this terrible hardship. Perhaps I'll be dead by then and miss it all. If I'm lucky.

I'm Done, Period!

I think at a certain age you should be able to elect to stop your period. I have now had my period for thirty years. YES, I SAID 30 YEARS! That is a looong time. Longer than any relationship I have ever had. I'm done having kids, there is absolutely no good reason why I should be ovulating. How about women who decide earlier on in life that they don't want children? Shouldn't they have the option to not have this monthly inconvenience?

I remember the day I got it. Just so happens it was my mother's birthday, that's why I remember the date. We had just returned home from our dinner out, I went to the bathroom and there it was. Ugh! Let the nightmare begin. So I tell my mom and instead of her being helpful or concerned or even sympathetic..what does she do? She slaps me across the face! What the fuck? Since when does bleeding from the vagina warrant getting slapped? It's not like I wiped it on her towels or something. Turns out it's some funky kind of tradition. Let me tell you, the tradition ended then! I will not be passing that one down to my girls. Before I knew it was a tradition, I just thought my mom was mad at me, perhaps for inconveniencing her, especially on her birthday. It's not like my mother ever had logical reasons for her outbursts before this happened. From then on when I got my period I was afraid to tell her. I didn't want to get slapped again. Thank goodness I have a sister who is ten years older than me. At least I could go down to her bathroom and steal her stash of pads. (Yes, Nancy, that's where they disappeared to).

Men don't think periods are such a big deal and wonder why we get cranky. Well, let me tell you, if men bled from their penises once a month, there would be legislation that they can get paid time off from work. It might even be considered a disability. Have you seen how they get when they have a cold or stomach ache? I bet they couldn't even handle it.

One of the benefits of electing to stop your period is not having to buy the paraphernalia. When people find out you are pregnant, they always make the same stupid joke "Better save up for diapers, you're gonna need them. Heh heh". Yeah, real funny and original-NOT. But when you first get your period, nobody says "Better save up for some sanitary napkins and tampons - you're gonna need it, Heh Heh". Meanwhile I have two kids and I only bought diapers for a total of about 3 years, and that's cumulative. I have been buying period supplies, which included Mydol and wine for 30 years! (Well, not the wine). That is just freaking nuts. Imagine how much money I have spent on it all these years. I'm sure it's more than my current salary. I'm actually glad that I was born when I was born though. Imagine the "olden days" when women had to wear that belt contraption? I would just die. I have also always wondered what do women in third world countries do? I mean, they must be able menstruate because they keep having kids..but they don't even wear clothes. Do they roll up a leaf or use the hair from a furry animal? Do they just let it drip down their leg? How come sociologists never do a documentary on this? I really want to know but I'm not getting a bazillion inoculations to go there and find out.

Another benefit of stopping your period is that you can actually plan a vacation, for whenever you want..not just try to figure out 4 months in advance if your going to have it the weekend you want to go away. I know some people are thinking, "What's the big deal if you have your period while on vacation?" Well, to me it is a big deal. I don't want to keep getting off the beach to change, I don't want to worry about drippage and I certainly don't want to be bloated. And forget hotel sex, that's NOT happening if I'm on the rag. Plus I have a unique issue. I'm pretty sure I mentioned this in one of my previous posts, but I'm too lazy to look so I'll just say it again. My daughter ruined my vagina. She came out at lightening speed. My first contraction was at 8:10 and she was born at 8:50. So fast that even the blood vessel in her eyes popped. Since then I have trouble keeping in tampons! If I sneeze, cough, laugh or even fart it falls out!! So if I'm on vacation while I have my period and I'm on the beach, I just have to make sure I don't do any of those things or else I'll be in the bathroom every ten minutes.

If I can elect to stop getting my period, I can also stop taking birth control. Let me tell you, not only is it expensive but it can kill you too! My friend Lori recently told me that she got pancreatice from taking a certain type of birth control. Damn! That seems not only painful, but pretty inconvenient for a stay at home mom. Who watches the kids while you're doubled over in pain on the floor? I copied and pasted the side effects of this particular birth control from their own website: leukorrhea, diarrhea, vomiting, vaginitis, flu syndrome, moniliasis, allergic reaction, cystitis, tooth disorder, sore throat, infection, fever, surgery, back pain, migraine, dyspepsia, rhinitis, acne, gastroenteritis, bronchitis, pharyngitis, skin disorder, intermenstrual bleeding, decreased libido, pain, increased cough, dizziness, pain in extremity, and pelvic pain.

Sounds like fun, doesn't it? All this to regulate your period and have the chance of not getting pregnant. I told Lori to quit birth control and tell her husband that she has headache instead. I would much rather go to the hospital, have surgery to stop my period and deal with the hot flashes and mood swings (which according to my husband I possess anyway). Oh, and speaking of birth control, have you ever seen the commercial for that birth control where it promotes not getting your period for several months? That totally scares me!!! I know, here I am complaining about having it, but I can't imagine altering my body where it only comes every few months. What does that say for PMS? (PRE-Menstrual Syndrome). Do you end up having all this pent up anger and emotion until 3 months later when you actually do get your period? At least each month you get to unleash. I'm sure when the time comes, the user of this birth control just EXPLODES!!!! On the defense of having your period monthly, at least it's a quiet or quieter storm rather than a friggin tornado destroying everything in site.

It's obvious that I am terribly annoyed and inconvenienced with having my period. But I have to say..some of the worst days of my life have been when I went to the bathroom and said to myself "SHIT, I don't have my period yet!??!"

Cold Stone Ice Cream is just Stone Cold

OK, I'll admit it..I'm a coupon junkie. I don't necessarily cut coupons for stuff I don't buy anyway, but when I see an Internet deal where you get stuff just for signing into the website, I fall for it. Every time. Recently I saw an advertisement that if you go to Cold Stone Ice Cream's website and enter your information you will get a coupon for a free ice cream on your birthday. Whew Hoo! Free ice cream! Where do I sign??

For those of you who are not familiar with Cold Stone: it's not like a Dairy Queen, Carvel or Friendly's. This is not an ice cream place for the middle class. It's the upper echelon of ice cream. Though there is nothing particularly fancy about it.. I mean, they mix in your choice of ingredients such as almonds, brownies, cookie dough, candy, etc..but big deal. For a family of four such as mine, you really need to take out a mortgage to buy ice cream there. And that's for the "Like it" (small) size. I actually would only go to the place when my teenage neighbor worked there and he would accidentally forget to charge me the correct amount. Not only does he no longer work there but the local franchise closed down.

Anyway, my birthday rolls around and I get an email from Cold Stone. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY STACEY!!! CLICK HERE TO GET YOUR FREE ICE CREAM!!!" I am so excited, I don't waste any time and I immediately click away. Who cares if I was at work at the time? At least I know the coupon will print here. If I wait to get home to print I'll probably find out that I'm out of ink because my five year old insists on "coloring" on the Noggin web page and printing every single friggin creation she makes. I cannot take that chance. I click on the link, ignore the disclaimer and hit "I Agree". I guess I should have read the disclaimer because apparently Cold Stone is very serious and stingy about their coupons.

First, they make me choose a location. Not just the state or county I live in but I actually have to pick which Cold Stone I want to go to for my free ice cream. At first I thought that was weird because though there is a Cold Stone within 10 miles from my house, what if I'm traveling or visiting a friend and I want to go to that Cold Stone? Then my husband explained that they probably do that because it's a franchise and individually owned. OK, it's annoying but I'll let them have that point.

I then print the coupon and stick it in my purse for safekeeping. My birthday was on a Friday this year and also being the first weekend of summer it was a very, very hectic weekend. On Monday I actually look at the coupon and I'm sooo disappointed. It expires on Friday! They only gave me a week to get my ice cream! What a douche move! It's kind of like wining a free vacation and then finding out you can only go on February 29th and only the first night is free, not the entire vacation. You were sucked in and then denied!! I know you know this feeling. It's happened to the best of us. Now granted, I could go to Cold Stone that night. But I have two little ones. I get home from work at 6, and if I go get ice cream after dinner, they will be bouncing off the wall and will NEVER get to bed! By the way, the 3 year old goes to bed at 7:30..not much time to squeeze in to begin with.

At the last moment on Friday I decide to take the kids and go to Cold Stone for my free birthday ice cream. It's Friday, they can stay up a little later and I justify everything because, really, I want my God Damn free ice cream. I figure since I'm cheap, I'll get the large size and the three of us will share. I read the coupon on the way there (don't worry, my husband was driving), and I notice that the coupon is for the "Like It" size only! Douche move #2. COME ON! It's my birthday! They can't splurge and give me the "Love It" or "Gotta Have It" size? That's just so cheesy. So now this free ice cream is going to cost me money because I have to buy my kids their own ice cream instead of sharing.

So I was joking with my husband and I say "OH, they will probably ask for I.D. too". Well, guess what? On the bottom of the coupon it states that I should be prepared to show identification. I SWEAR ON MY LIFE! Don't believe me? Get a coupon. See for yourself. So ridiculous! Do they really care that much if Stacey doesn't use her free ice cream and gives her coupon to Stephanie to use instead? Is it really that big of a deal?? It's ice cream, not a bank withdrawal. In case you are curious, they didn't make me show id, but they DID make me complete a form and sign it. Cold Stone should really stop taking this birthday coupon so seriously. If they have such strong concerns with the size, time limit and the actual birthday person, then they should probably just not offer the coupon to begin with.

For your reference, I also received two other birthday promotions from franchised restaurants. Wendy's was the nicest about it. I got a dollar off of my purchase. I believe there was an expiration date (didn't use the coupon but the thought was nice). No other strings attached. YEAH FOR WENDY'S! Subway gave me a buy one get one free. That really friggin pissed me off. Why? First of all, it reminded me that absolutely NOBODY invited me out for lunch on my birthday. So, that made me feel like a big loser. Not only am I a feeling sad and lonely because nobody invited me out for lunch on my birthday, but I couldn't even use the coupon because I had to buy one to get one free! Seriously, I'm not going to buy two sandwiches and two drinks just so I can use the coupon? Geez!

So folks, learn from my mistakes. Nothing is free..and if it is free you're gonna pay for it some way or another. Perhaps the REAL lesson is to stop signing up for free food. My heart is saying YES but my ass is saying NO!

Gender Equality can go SUCK IT!

All I have to say is: I would give up a limb to hear my husband say "NO WIFE OF MINE IS GOING TO WORK!!!" Aahh, I can only dream.

I'm sure the bra burning women in the 60's and 70's thought they were doing the right thing. I'm sure they had no clue on how much this would backfire. It's kind of like pulling over on the road to help a stranded motorist and he turns around and robs you instead. The good intentions were there. It just didn't work out as planned.

Right now, this very second, I could be home, cooking dinner, maybe cleaning. But instead, I'm at work, (By the way, my job is not blogging or related in any way to creative writing) - which tells you how devoted I am to my job. Now, because women felt the strong desire to be equal to men..my life sucks...BIG TIME.

If women didn't fight so hard for equal rights:

1. I would not have the right to vote. Who gives a fuck? Anyone who has ever run for a political office has been a liar, has cheated on his spouse and generally cares more about notoriety rather than the state of the economy or public safety. The rule is get re-elected, not cure the problems. Kind of like prosecutors: they only care to get the "win" not that the defendant has actually committed the crime. Having the right to vote makes my life even harder. I now have to keep up with current events. If I go out for dinner with another couple, I have to be intelligent enough to keep up with the conversation if it turns to politics. That means that after working, cooking dinner, giving baths, etc, I now have to read the newspaper or stay up to watch the 11:00 news when I would much rather go to sleep. It would have been so much easier if when the topic turned to politics, I could turn to the wife and talk about recipes instead. But no, we have to be equal.

2. In the 1950's women were expected to have either looks or brains. Now we are expected to have both. That's putting a lot of pressure on us. We are expected to juggle work and have social lives. If it weren't for gender equality, I could either work AND not have a family and society would say, "well, she's not a looker so she has to put her effort into a job. No man is going to support that ugly mug". OR if I didn't have a job, it would be acceptable because I would have the husband and family. I would have the time to stay home, rest and put myself together before my husband came home from work. But Nooo, we have to have equality. So now after working all day, I am expected to still look refreshed and put together. Please.

**This reminds me of a funny story which is absolutely 100% true. I know I'm digressing but I must tell it**

I was in the hospital after just giving birth to my first child. As the labor came unexpectantly and quickly, my husband was home that first morning getting stuff ready. I'm in bed and the baby is in the plastic cradle next to me. Anyway, visiting hour was approaching and I assumed relatives would be coming. A nurse walks in and tells me that I should take a shower. I tell her that since the baby is in the room, and visiting hour is starting..it probably would not be a good idea to leave the baby unattended while I take a shower. I mean, first day with the baby and I'm already neglicting her? Is this a test? I explain that my husband will be here later and that is when I will shower. She came in one more time and made her suggestion about showering. Then, about 20 minutes later she comes in and says to me, "You know, you should really make it a point to look nice for your husband. You shouldn't stay in your pajamas all day." IS SHE INSANE??? I HAVE A FUCKING VILLAGE IN MY UNDERWEAR AND SHE IS TELLING ME TO LOOK NICE FOR MY HUSBAND??? I'm sure if a baby just squirted out of his penis hole, he would not be so quick to freshen up for me. OK, end of story.

3. Many feminist would argue that because of gender equality we now have more rights when it comes to maternity leave. Our position is saved for us, we get paid a portion of our salary and even extended time off. Ummm, duhhh! You wouldn't have to fight for this stuff if we didn't have to go back to work in the first place. 'Nuff said.

4. Instead of equality we have INequality! Seriously. Great, so we get equal pay for equal jobs. But what about when we get home? Is division of labor split any different? In most cases I would say no. Not saying that every wife does more in the household than her husband..but women are still expected by society to still have the same roles. Child rearing, maintenance, grocery shopping, event planning, etc. I have to cram my "chores" into the hours of 6 pm (when I get home) and 10 pm (my target bed time). If I was home all day I could pace myself. But no, we have to be equal.

5. If it weren't for gender equality, I would have a seat on the subway! Not that I travel the tubes often but I do not recall any time where a man got up from his seat and offered it to me or any other standing female. I can just see the wheels turning in the heads of men. "OH, you want equal rights, huh? Well, equally stand up the entire train ride, bitch." This particularly hurts me because I am not the most coordinated person. Also, I am short. This means I cannot utilize the bar over the seat and I must fight for a spot at the vertical pole. The train moves and I fly all over the place. I'm constantly rethinking my footing strategy so I don't fall on my face. I could have had a seat..but NO, we have to be equal.

The intent of Women's liberation was to eliminate forms of oppression based on gender and to gain for women equal economic and social status and rights to derermine their own lives as are enjoyed by men. I say, oppress me, keep me home, keep me pretty, don't make me think to hard, let me work at a leisurely pace and give me my fucking seat back!!

THE SHIVA CRASHERS

DEDICATED TO MY MOM: JANUARY 21, 1938 - JUNE 12, 2010

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GLOSSARY:
Minyan: Religious services, quorum of 10 men, sometimes women. Usually held at synagogue except at times of Shiva.

Shiva: Week long period of mourning. It is customary for mourners to not eat their own food. i.e. Friends and family of mourners bring or send food to the home where Shiva is being held.

Goyum: Non Jew
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The other night while sitting Shiva for my mom at her house, I took out the garbage. While I was outside, I see a car pull up in the driveway and an old lady gets out of the passenger side. This woman is so old, I think she's Father Time's widow. I don't recognize her and I figure that she is either a relative who I haven't seen since the last funeral or maybe she's a friend of my mom's who I just don't know. Many relatives and /or associates of my parents have no idea if I am Stacey or my twin sister. Not that we look alike, but people are too lazy to remember our identities. Anyway, I decide to take the initiative and introduce myself. Here is the scenario:

Me: Hi (old freaking lady). I'm Stacey.
Father Time's Widow: (In a thick Eastern European Accent) Who Died???????
Me: (Taken back, just a little as the black ribbon I am wearing would indicate that I am a direct descendant of the deceased) My mom!
Father Time's Widow: What happened?
Me: She had cancer.
Father Time's Widow: Where's the husband?
(notice there was no mention of sorrow or condolences)
Me: He died 3 years ago.
Father Time's Widow: Maybe I will recognize the pictures in the house.
Me: What? Are you just here for the sloppy joes???

Then I see the driver of the car, a young man, approach me. I don't recognize him either but then I figure he's a friend or client of my brother. Again I take the initiative of introducing myself.
Me: Hi, I'm Stacey.
Unidentified Man: Hi, I'm Paul.
(Notice, I am still wearing the black ribbon mentioned above and still no words of sympathy).
Me: Excuse me, but what is your association here?
Unidentified Man: We are here for the Minyan (see Glossary above).

AHA!!!!!! They are not Shiva crashers as I suspected. They were actually members of the temple, here for the service.

What a relief! I thought I was going to have to call Vito the bouncer to get these crashers out.

But then I thought, WHAT A RACKET!!!

What an awesome idea. Step 1: Look at the obituaries in the newspaper and check for Jewish sounding names. For you Goyums (check glossary) if you can't tell by the last name, read each one and see if the article states any of the following: Funeral is being held the next day OR the name of the cemetery has the word Shalom in it OR it even states where Shiva is being held.

Step 2: Memorize or take notes on who the remaining survivors are. You may need this to address the mourners ("Oh, I am a friend of a friend of Josh"). If they are very religious, you are in luck! With the very religious Jewish people, you cannot talk to the mourners until they initiate the conversation. If that's the case, You're pretty much in! Just go along with it and keep your mouth shut so you don't blow your cover.

Step 3: Mourners are not permitted to serve the people who come to show their condolences. Go straight to the buffet and help yourself. Bring your family!!!

Imagine, you had a long day at work..you get home around six and the last thing you feel like doing is cooking dinner for your family. The kids just had McDonald's last night and you worry about obesity and all that crap. You don't want to go out for dinner because your husband complained that you spend too much money on non incidentals. Open the paper, calmly say to your family: Hey, Lenore Goldshine died, anyone in the mood for brisket?????????

YOU OUGHT TO NEED A LICENSE

About eight years ago I went to adopt a dog from a shelter. I found the dog love of my life at a rescue place. Bailey was just so stunning, I have never seen such a cute and unique looking dog. I found out that Bailey was found wandering the streets of Paterson NJ on a miserable snowy day. That day was so horrible that it was considered a state of emergency and no cars were even allowed on the road. Furthermore, once she was picked up by the pound, she was mistreated by the employees and was then rescued by this shelter. My heart just melted, I HAD to have this dog and save her!

The paperwork to fill out was four pages long! I had to include my living arrangement, work history and about 100 references. I rolled up my sleeve because I thought they were going to draw blood too. You would think I had applied for a job at the white house. Of course they have to check my background so I can't take the dog home right away, they tell me they will call me. Several days later I get a call saying that I am not qualified to take home the dog. WHAT????????????????? The reason is that I am a renter, not a home owner (even though the home I rented had 3 floors) and here's the best part: (insert drum roll here) I AM NOT A STAY AT HOME (DOG) MOM!!!! Are you fucking kidding me? I know people that have live children and don't stay home with them. They expect me to quit work to stay home with a dog?? I was devastated. I COULD NOT believe that this dog was better off in a crate with a cement floor with no interaction than with me because I work. It took about a week of persuading but I got my landlord to call the shelter to confirm that I will not get evicted for having a dog and I also hired a dog walker to come once a day while I was at work. Hallelujah, I was now worthy of having a dog. By the way, I still have the dog and she does not seem at all traumatized about me being a working dog mother.

Fast forward to five years ago. I walk into a hospital, spit out a baby and I need nothing, absolutely nothing but a car seat to take her home. Nobody had me fill out a four page application. I didn't have to provide a work history or even references. I wasn't asked if I own a home or rent or how many people live in my household and they let me walk out with a human being to raise. How on earth does this make sense? If I don't parent the dog correctly, the worse that can happen is that she shits on my floor or chews my shoes. It really has no impact on anyone but the other members of the household. But, if I don't parent this tiny human correctly, she could be a menace to society..the entire society. You would think they would make me take an I.Q. test or something. Nothing crazy like explaining the String Theory. Just something that would indicate whether or not I know right from wrong. For example: If your child is screaming and driving you crazy, do you:

A. Try calming methods like swinging her or rubbing her back
B. Try feeding her or changing her diaper.
C. Crazy Glue her lips shut.

I mention this because I just read an article about a father who tattooed a gang symbol on his seven year old son. WHAT - THE - FUCK is wrong with this guy? How was HE allowed to bring a human being home to raise? This article mentioned that the father stated that the son wanted a tattoo. Oh, Ok, a seven year old wants to permanently scar his skin, with a target for bullets, i.e. gang symbol. Sure kid, what the heck. Now if this father had to take a test before bringing the baby home, this might have been avoided. This poor kid is a victim to having stupid parents. I say parents because even though the mother was not mentioned, she was stupid enough to have sex with someone that would tattoo a child.

I think the dog rescue shelter and baby hospitals should join forces. If you are qualified to bring home a child, perhaps you can get a puppy too.

Spanx Me

I had a wedding to go to and an awesome new dress. Too bad I still have my three year old baby pouch. Diet and exercise??? Feh! Spanx is the answer.

For those virgin Spanx'ers or male readers out there..Spanx is a modern day "girdle". I hate that word by the way. Spanx sucks everything in and renders the user breathless. Your tummy looks flat, your ass looks tight and you are turning blue because everything is just sucked in. Sometimes, depending on where the elastic lands..you can't even eat at the event because there is no room for the food in your temporarily minimized stomach. But it's better to look good than to feel good. Right?

So, I go to Lord and Taylors to buy my Spanx. A male cashier is checking me out. Well, not checking me out, but facilitating my purchase. Anyhow, when paying he asked me "Do you want a gift receipt for this?" Without missing a beat I answered, "I think I would get punched in the face if I gave this as a gift!". Can you imagine???

Just picture this scenario: Happy Birthday Jennifer!!! Ooh, ooh, open my present first! I got you Spanx, being that your ass is so fat and your flabby stomach causes a muffin top. Now Jennifer, put down that birthday cake...you want fit into your Spanks don't you?

Only a man would ask me if I wanted a gift receipt. If he is reading this, the following items don't require one either: Laxatives, Diet pills and Sanitary napkins / tampons. Hope this guy doesn't get a job at Harmons.

3 HOTS AND A COT!

I'M A FUGITIVE!!! THERE IS A WARRANT OUT FOR MY ARREST! MY HORRIBLE CRIME?????

WAIT FOR IT...............

LEAVING MY CAR PARKED IN THE STREET IN FRONT OF MY HOME.

I know, what a disappointment.

Here's the story...It was the evening of my daughter's birthday. My husband pulled the car out of the driveway and left it in the street so that my POOR, CRIPPLED, Mother could park in the driveway. After the wild party which lasted until the late hour of 7:00 pm, we put the kids to bed, cleaned up, sat on the couch and vegged and then forgot ALL about it.

The next day we found a ticket on the car for parking in the street overnight. So lame. We live in the suburbs, there is no street cleaning and garbage pickup wasn't that day. No reason to have a stupid law against parking in the street. The only reason I can think of is for the snow plows or just to raise revenue at the expense of tired parents like us who occasionally forget.

Anyway, the BEST part of this story is that I am actually considering turning myself in!
YES!!!!!!
A day or so in jail! I could totally use the rest and a break from the daily minutiae of my day. It sounds so inviting to me. I envision laying on my cot, reading some magazines, and having all my meals brought to me. Meals! Ones that I didn't shop for or cook myself!

Oh the glory!

No work, no kids. And this is punishment? It certainly doesn't fit the crime! I have heard of cruel and unusual punishment..but this is more like well deserved punishment! My town has some pretty wealthy people in it..I'm sure the jail is lovely. It probably even has curtains.

My other thought is to turn myself in on Mother's Day. Make it a little "Daycation". I'll get a mani-pedi first, bring my new Sarah Pekkanen book, and maybe since I'll have the time on my hands, I'll start working on my own book. Stay tuned!

The Gy(NO!) Visit

Many people have a certain time of the year where they get depressed. For some it's the holidays, others it's their birthday and a significant amount of people get depressed in the winter time. Me? My depression comes once a year when I have to have my annual at the gyno! (Enter sigh here). I'm cringing just thinking about it.

This year I got a great compliment when I went. The doctor asked "You're 39?" and I answered, "Yes, I will be 40 in June". Then he replied, "Well you look GREAT! You take good care of yourself". I was very happy when he said that but then it hit me that he was looking IN me at the time..not AT me! So, does that mean my cervix looks great for my age? Can I go around bragging that I am 40 years old but have the vagina of a 30 year old? I guess a compliment is a compliment and I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth..or in the crotch.

As I have explained in my other posts, I am a bit neurotic. Thoughts worry me that probably don't even enter other people's heads. If you dare to read on..you'll find some of my crazy concerns and some great gyno ideas:

* Do I groom first? I don't mean brush it and put bows in it, but is it proper gyno etiquette to at least shave it down? Sometimes when I go to the dentist, I think about eating Oreos first to create a challenge for the dentist, shake up his day a little. Do I extend the same challenge to the Gyno? Isn't his job bad enough?
What if the doctor's office provided the service of waxing? Wouldn't that be great? I know many women, including myself who feel humilated going to get a bikini wax. It's embarrasing, it's awkward and it's just not fun. Soo, if you feel those emotions anyway while going to the gyno AND going to the "Spa" why not just get it all over with at one time???

By the way, for years I would only see female gynecologists. I just figured that there must be something wrong with a guy who wants to do this for a living...like a pervert or something. I have since overcome that. But having a baby will do that to you. When you are in the hospital having a baby..EVERYONE, I mean EVERYONE lifts up that sheet around your legs and takes a peak. You just have no idea whether it's a doctor, nurse, custodian or visitor. But I digress, back to my issues:

*Why do they bother giving me the gown? They are looking at the most vulnerable part of me anyway. What? Covering my fat belly and droopy boobs are going to make me feel more modest? I think I would feel much better if maybe they threw a little towel over my front and then turned down the lights. He can use the little night light they keep at the end of the stirrups. Plus, in my opinion, he picked the short straw. I may be in this paper gown that rips when I put it on but I actually feel bad for him because he has to look at ME. Hey, I may be the naked one, but at least I don't have to see myself.

I once went to the doctor where instead of putting my legs up..the chair went all the way back and then up at the legs..kind of like a dentist chair but the back went down further and the leg part went up higher. Now that's service! It was awesome!!! She DID dim the lights and I almost felt as though I should be eating strawberries and sipping champagne. I was almost wishing for a high risk pregnancy just so I could go back to her.

*Oh my God, what if I fart? It could happen! What if he accidentally presses on a nerve or something and a fart sneaks out?? I would be mortified. To my knowledge this has never happened to me or anyone..but you just never know.

* My visit would definitely be more pleasurable if the office provided more services. Charge me a little more and put a flat screen tv on the ceiling. That way, I can focus on a reality tv show and not on the fact that there is someone looking and feeling my insides.

Also, while my feet are in stirrups..why not get a pedicure? Kill two birds with one stone, right? It would probably be easier for the manicurist too. They won't have to bend down to do my toes..since my feet will be up in the air supported by stirrups anyway. Also, it's not like I can leave work to get a pedicure..but it's a perfectly good excuse to leave work to go to the doctor. So what if I come back wearing flip flops with tissue between by toes.

So Gynos: If you're out there,reading this just remember the following:
TV on ceiling, pedicure, dim lights and just forget about the damn gown.

364 days until my next gyno anxiety attack.

Just A Day in the Park

Have you ever been to the park with your son or daughter and you see a crazy lady yelling at other people's kids? That crazy lady happens to be me! But I have a declaration to make: I am DONE..DONE parenting other people's children!

It is completely beyond my comprehension why people bring their children to public places and then don't bother to watch them? Granted when a kid reaches a certain age, it is not necessary to stand over them. But your eyes should always be on them. The park is for sharing. If you don't want to share or behave appropriately...stay home.

Incident number one happened when my daughter had her eye on the tire swing the moment we got the park. It was always in use. As my daughter was walking towards another activity, she saw that the tire swing had become free. She started running towards it and was an arm length's away when a boy saw her, looked back at where she was running to and hauled ass to the swing and got on it. Just to get a better mental picture, he was walking with two other boys in the opposite direction of this swing. He had already passed it, knowing it was unoccupied. Upon seeing my daughter run towards it, he decided he had to get on it at that moment. So when he did that, I made it a point to let him know that it was a very mean thing to do. I waited for a parent to come and say "hey, why don't you give the girl a turn" but no one showed up. So my daughter walked away holding back the tears. I really had an urge to push the kid off the swing. Hopefully my verbal abuse was enough to scar him.

Incident number two was with a girl sitting at the edge of the slide. I don't know who the girl was and it wasn't my kid going down at the time. But, I thought I would be a good Samaritan and warn the girl that someone was coming down and that she might want to stop loitering at the end of the slide. She got up, the kid came down..but THEN SHE SAT BACK DOWN ON THE SLIDE! What a dumb kid! I mean, while she was sitting on the slide, she was looking at a bench. Wouldn't that be a better place to take a rest? So, she is sitting back down on the slide and it's my daughter's turn to go down. I give the girl another chance. Hey, not all kids are as bright as mine. :) I let her know that she is about to get kicked in the back. Ok, so I wasn't saving a life here, and maybe she would get just a little hurt..but where's her fucking mother telling her to move?? And, just because I happen to be the responsible adult standing there, is it MY responsibility to teach this child cause and effect?

The last incident was another kid using the slide inappropriately. He was walking up it as my daughter was trying to go down. This time I just said "fuck it" and I didn't say a word. If his idiotic parent doesn't care if his teeth get knocked out than neither do I. My three year old had the decency to get up and move out of the way. I secretly wish she hadn't. I wish she went down and knocked this boy on his ass. But then again, here is my three year old who is in the 3rd percentile weight wise and the 50th percentile for height up against a boy who looks like a monster compared to her.

When she was done with the slide, I had HAD it with the park and idiotic kids and their ignorant parents. I bribed my girls with Dairy Queen and got the hell out of Dodge.

I am also very glad I invested in my backyard swing set.

EWWW! That's F'kin GROSS!

It's only Wednesday but I can't believe I have survived this week so far unscathed. By now I should have received a virus or been punched in the face. I have witnessed three gross, disgusting acts of "Sanitation Betrayal" (yes, I coined my own term. Like it??)...and I was VERY vocal about it.

On Monday I went into the bathroom at work. There are two stalls. The person in the other stall was obviously making a doodie. It stunk, she was noisy about it and when she heard me walk in..she made an attempt to hurry up and get out. I guess she was shy about her pooping. So, if you have read my other posts, you will know that I am VERY QUICK with my peeing. As she was walking out of her stall, I flushed. When I opened my stall door I noticed that she DID NOT WASH HER HANDS! Ewww! Ick! Yuck!. As she was running out the door (I did not see her face so I don't know if it is someone who works in the building - which means it could be a repeat offender) I yelled "Wash your fucking hands you pig". I have no idea if she heard me, I really don't understand how she couldn't. I mean, I mumble shit under my breath and both my husband and boss hear them when I really don't want them too. I envisioned her coming back in and smacking me with that smelly, fecal contaminated hand. I learned my lesson though. You just never know! I washed my hands and I took the paper towel I used to dry them to turn the door knob. The walk back to the office suite from the bathroom was uneventful. I was safe!

Lady: In case you are reading this, and you know who you are even if I don't know who you are. After you go potty, you wash your hands with warm water. As you are washing your hands, sing this song so that you know when it's time to stop washing:

(To the tune of "Where is Thumpkin") Top and bottom / top and bottom / in between / in between / rub them all together / rub them all together/ Now we're clean / Now we're clean.


Yesterday I went to the A&P Grocery store. While I was waiting on line at the pharmacy, some older lady walks past me and I hear "Kah". (That's my onomatopoei for a cough). EWWWL! She coughed and didn't even cover her mouth!!!! What the fuck is wrong with her?????????? My daughter who just turned 3 last week even says "germs are not for sharing". How come this old lady does not know this? Was she just too lazy to move her arm up to her mouth? She had nothing in her hands and she wasn't pushing a cart. It's not like her hands were busy doing something else. Of course I could not keep this to myself so I said "Ewl, cover your mouth". I did not add any name calling. She was old..I showed a little respect. Again, I expected a dirty look, a germ contaminated hand to smack me. Nothing! Nothing! So my theory would be that people who display Sanitary Betrayal behaviors are passive aggressive. They won't say or do anything to defend their wrong actions, they will just get you sick by spreading their "icky bugs".

The third act of Sanitary Betrayal was also yesterday at the A&P. (Sorry A&P, you're getting a bad rep here). I was on line (or is it in line?) at the checkout. The person checking out in front of me paid by cash. The cashier was giving change and she LICKED HER FINGER to get a better grip on the dollar bill! So fucking gross!!!! Why would she do that? If she has trouble grabbing bills, she should wear one of those rubber things on her fingers like bank tellers do. If I were the customer I would have asked her to put that money aside and get a manger to hand her the change. So now this poor person is walking around with spit in her wallet. I have heard of dirty money..but this is ridiculous. When it was my turn to pay...I took out my credit card and swiped it myself. My germs are not for sharing!

I am by far not a germ a phobe! My house is dirty and I did not use hand sanitizer when my kids were babies. I think being exposed to a little dirt is ok and my kids are pretty much never sick. BUT, I'm starting to think that Michael Jackson had the right idea walking around with gloves anad a mask on!

IT'S THE LITTLE THINGS

It's the little things that drive me friggin insane. Ironically, big issues I can seem to forgive, forget and move on. Granted, it might take a slight freakout before the forgiving and forgetting but at least I do move on. On the other hand I have several little pet peeves that drive me bananas. And while we are on the topic of bananas, I will focus on just one of my pet peeves here: The Supermarket. Yes, just going to the supermarket can have me break out in hives with all the LITTLE things that are BIG problems for me.

Let's start with the Deli line:

First, I just get annoyed when the person in front of me has a huge list of things to order. Every time the person behind the counter says "anything else?" with that look in his eyes that are really saying "Please don't have anything else" the customer replies with one more thing that I am internally hoping is really the last! Of course I can't prevent my timing from being in line behind this person, but the only option is to do more shopping and hope when I get back on line the long list person is gone. I am rarely brave enough to do this. I wish I had the guts to just say "Give the guy your freakin list so that at least he can just get all your stuff ready instead of saying "anything else" after each item.

You probably think I wouldn't have another issue with the deli line, but guess what, I do. This one I actually executed but I got dirty looks. I don't think I did anything wrong in this case but apparently I didn't use proper Deli Line Etiquette. So I'm on line and the person whose current turn it was had ordered a certain brand of turkey that I happen to also purchase. While the counter guy was slicing it up I said loud enough for him to hear "I want that too, so can I please have 1/2 a pound also"? OH MY G-D! You would think I stole bread from a homeless person or knocked over a handicapped person with the look I got from the others on line! I really didn't think I did anything wrong!!!! I mean, the guy had it out anyway, and why should he put it away just to take it out when it was my turn again? I was being efficient, not only for the employee but for others on line after me. Just for giggles, let's take the same act and put it in a different situation. Let's just say you are in your home and your significant other, roommate, whatever, is standing at the open fridge pouring a glass of water. Is it out of line to say, "Hey, don't put that pitcher back, I want some water too." Or is it more polite to make the person put away the water just for me say "Oh, can you take the water back out? I want some too"?

My next beef (GET IT, BEEF! AT THE GROCERY STORE! HA!) is with the new check out lines where you check yourself out. I'm weird with this one because sometimes I do enjoy doing it myself but at other times I'm like, "What the fuck? Now there's another job I need to do". I mean there are two times when I can do nothing, just hang and wait with my own thoughts. One time is sitting on the toilet..the other is waiting on line and waiting for my check out to be done. I am required to do nothing for a few minutes of my life and it's sooo refreshing. So when I am forced to check myself out I get kind of ticked. Also I feel the same way about self check out as I do about driving. Everybody else sucks at it but me. People are always holding up the line by not knowing the code for the fruit or vegetable they scan (want to test me: bananas = code 4011) or their item won't scan. Of course it's always user error unless it's my turn and it is not working.

My last issue regards the parking lot. This is HUGE for me and I don't know why I can't just get over it. Why the heck can't people put their shopping carts back in the corral???? How hard is it to walk over to the little hut and stick your cart back in? You just walked around a grocery store..I'm sure you have the ability to walk over and put the cart away. The WORST... WORST, is when someone sticks the cart in an empty handicapped spot. EWWWW, that infuriates me! What is handicapped person going to do? Get out of their car and put it away for you so they can park???? C'mon!!!

The second worst is when someone sticks their cart behind or against your car so that YOU have to put their friggin cart away (or let it roll) just so you can leave! And since I brought up rolling carts..that is one reason why I will never, ever, get a really nice car. Until I am done with parking at supermarket parking lots, I will continue to drive a car in which I don't care about dings or scratches.

I Hate Babies...But I'll Have Yours!!

I can't stand babies! In fact, when my first daughter was born I was pretty upset. On tv, even some of those realty TLC Channel shows, the mom is instantly in love with the newborn. That did not happen to me. I didn't feel "the magic" as soon as my baby was born. To be honest, I didn't quite bond with either of my daughters until they were over 1 year old. I remember being in music class with my then 9 month old. I looked at the faces at all the other moms and they were smiling and enjoying their baby. I was like "What the heck are they so happy about?".

For me, the worst part of having children was getting through what I call the Maintenance Phase. It could be because I am such a schedule Nazi and I am a freak about timing. I would get worried about leaving the house because I was afraid that I would not get home at the EXACT time that I needed to feed the baby. What if there was traffic? What if the baby fell asleep in the car and totally ruined the nap schedule? Also, I prefer it when the children can properly communicate. Wanna cry? Fine. Just tell me what you are crying about and I'll fix it. Infants just annoy me. Having to pay attention to how much they ate, how much they pooped, what color it was. So much work. AND lets not even go there with breast feeding. Let's just say my kids are definitely my kids. They would much rather do take out than cook at home. I tried for a week, forget it! I truly believe that if G-d wanted me to breastfeed, especially since HE made me a neurotic mother, He would have put a gage on my boob. I mean, how am I (or any other woman) supposed to figure out how much my baby ate??? Needless to say, I am done having children.

Ok, here is the ironic part. I LOVED, LOVED, LOVED being pregnant(and I'm apparently really good at giving birth too. Too bad it's not an Olympic sport, I think I would get a medal). If I could handle the babies, I would be pregnant all the time! Honestly, when I was younger I was terrified of the day that I might be pregnant. I pass out when I get a paper cut! How would I manage being sick all the time and pushing a baby out for hours? Well, thank goodness none of that happened. I never, ever got morning sickness. I loved the fact that if I were crossing the street or parking lot, a car would actually STOP instead of trying to run me over! People let me cut the line at the grocery store! There were just sooo many benefits. My husband loved it too. For someone who is usually indifferent about the act of making babies, I was pretty horny. Then to top it off, I had amazing deliveries. When my first daughter was born, I wasn't even sure if I was having contractions. I had a back ache. Because it kept coming and going my husband suggested it was labor. My daughter was born 3 hours after I went into the hospital (and about 20 minutes of actual pushing). When my second and final daughter was born, I sneezed and she came out! No, really, I woke up at ten after eight in the morning and thought I felt something. Decided to call the doctor, left for the hospital at 8:30. She was born at 8:50. I threw myself in the hospital bed and put my own legs in the stirrups. Too late for the epidural and my doctor not only missed the delivery but still charged my insurance company! But I digress. Let's get back on track here.

So, the fact that I love being pregnant and have easy deliveries, but really don't care for infants; I found the perfect compromise: Be a surrogate! Yes! My husband even thought it was a terrific idea. I mean, we both think it's a charitable thing to do anyway, but I'm sure my husband was persuaded by the horniness that comes along with being pregnant. I offered to be a surrogate for a friend in need but it turns out that New Jersey has some crazy laws about surrogacy so she choose someone from out of state. One of the crazy laws is that it is not permitted to compensate the birth mother. To be honest, I don't even care about compensation. The joy of making someone happy by giving them the gift of a lifetime is compensation enough. Though I never had a chance to pursue my PASSION of being a surrogate, I think I should give up on the dream since I am thisclose to forty. My eggs might be close to scrambled by now.

My other passion in life is to become a foster parent. I have always wanted to show an unloved or mistreated child that there really are decent and kind grown ups. Of course, I would want to foster, or adopt, a child who is at least five years old. My husband and I decided- well before children were a consideration- that if the day came and we could not have children on our own, I would not go through great pains to create a baby. We would foster or adopt instead. In fact, I still do want to be a foster parent though I already have two wonderful children. People put it down or automatically discount it because the children may have "issues" from being mistreated or from being moved around from home to home. My goal would be to make this child feel so loved that he / she would not ever want to leave.

Moral of this story? Is it fucked up of me for wanting to give away a child I actually gave birth to, yet I have the desire for taking in other people's neglected children? Thoughts anyone???

I DO, I DO and I DO

When I said "I DO" I didn't realize it meant that I would have to do EVERYTHING! My husband does stuff, don't get me wrong. But the scales of marriage-dom aren't exactly balanced. My husband does the stuff that physically I don't want to such as taking out the garbage and recycling, raking leaves, cleaning gutters, shoveling snow, etc. Those are big ticket items..but when you add up all the little things I think my side tips, just a bit.

One time, my husband asked me for Karen and Steve's address. I was able to rattle it off without looking it up in my book. He was amazed that I new it immediately without even thinking. So my response was, "We had a wedding, we had a baby, the baby had four birthday parties. That's 6 invitations / announcements and 6 thank you notes and on top of that a holiday card for the past 7 years. How can I NOT know their address?". The moral of the story is, when it comes to physical labor, my husband is it...but the rest of the stuff falls on me. And it's a lot. Think of it. We have two children. My job is to figure out what they are going to eat for the week, buy it, sometimes make it. I do their laundry, fold their clothes, put it away and then also figure out what they are going to wear. I plan all of their birthday parties including writing out all the invitations and thank you notes, planning the entertainment and menu. Additionally, I have all other "wifely" duties like working a full time job, planning weekend activities, not only for the kids but social get togethers for us grownups. I schlep the girls to their dance class and then go grocery shopping.

Believe it or not, this is not a post complaining about all that I do. This is a solution to a problem that a lot of wives / mom's have. And the answer is:
MAKE POLYGAMY LEGAL!

Making polygamy legal is a win-win situation. If I had a sister wife, I would spend less time stressing about all that has to be done. I wouldn't have to try and accomplish personal things while at work. Dinner would almost always be ready by the time I got home and there would be no excuse for the house to be dirty. Currently, the bathroom is so dirty that if I have to pee I run down to the gas station. It's cleaner.

Polygamy would not only be beneficial to me, but my husband as well. Think of it this way: He never has to feel put off if I am not "in the mood". I can just say "Go ask my sister wife. Maybe she feels like doing it tonight". Never again will I have to fake a headache or explain why I have had my period for 2 weeks straight.

The only way polygamy would backfire is if there is only one wife and more than one husband! THAT would be a catastrophe.

An Engaging Engagement

I often enjoy reading the engagement announcements in the newspaper. Even though I am certain to not recognize anybody in the announcement, I guess it's my way of being nosy without side effects.

What I don't understand is, why do the authors of these announcements turn it into a resume'? Here's a sample engagement announcement:

Mr. and Mrs. Hershal Lunatic of Livingston, NJ announce the engagement of their daughter, Naive to Tyler Snodgrass, son of Harvey and Matilda Snodgrass of East Bumfuck, NJ.

Naive Lunatic graduated from County College with a degree in Early Childhood Education in 2000 and is now a Kindergarten teacher at Elm Street Elementary School.

(Then it goes on to give the credentials for the potential groom.) With an ending of: The wedding is planned for April 2010.

Why are they giving us their education and career background? Is that necessary when announcing their engagement? Where they work or went to school is not relevant to them getting married. Unless you know multiple people with that exact name and if the photograph doesn't narrow it down, I guess you could narrow it down by the background. "OH, it's THAT Naive Lunatic! I thought it was the Naive Lunatic who also went to County College but is a Customer Service Rep.

WOULDN'T IT MAKE MORE SENSE, AND BE MORE FUN FOR THE ANNOUNCEMENT TO PROVIDE THE COUPLE'S DATING HISTORY?

A true engagement announcement should include the following:

A.How the couple met.
B. What led them to their circumstances (i.e.. why they were single)
C. How he (or she) proposed.
D. Where the wedding is (which is usually included anyway).

For example:

Mr. and Mrs. Hershal Lunatic of Livingston, NJ are freaking overjoyed that their 32 year old daughter Naive is finally getting hitched to Tyler Snodgrass, son of Harvey and Matilda of East Bumfuck, NJ.

Naive and Tyler met when Tyler was rebounding from his prior girlfriend, Ashley. Tyler was drinking in Hoboken with his guy friends when Naive fell for his bullshit line that he thought he knew her. At the time, Naive was celebrating her friend's bachlorette party. Showing a brave face but internally whining that she wants to meet a guy too. After two years of breaking up and getting back together, Naive finally made an ultimatum. Of course, Tyler didn't want to be tied down like that, but then he thought he figured he wouldn't have to work anymore to "get the goods". Tyler popped the question in the most UNORIGINAL way by putting the ring in a dessert when they had dinner out. But then again, Naive took all the fun out of the proposal because she had already personally picked out the ring and knew a proposal was coming. He might as well asked her at the jewelry store.

The wedding is planned for Spring 2010 and will be held at the Snooty Country Club. The bride is focusing on colors, theme and decorating crap. She doesn't realize that nobody gives a SHIT about any of that stuff except: If the food is good, if the bar is OPEN and the music is danceable.

The groom's friends are giving it two years - TOPS.

What Makes Me, ME

The following is not a put down on my parents. Merely, funny and strange occurrences that have happened which I believe has made me the nutcase I am today. Though not all of these stories have been witnessed, by siblings or otherwise, I am swearing that they ALL really did happen.

Let me preface by saying that my parents were not in any way, shape or form abusive or neglectful. As far as parents go, they were pretty awesome. From age three to age 14 they sent me to camp. They paid my college tuition (and would have paid for my Masters if Montclair College -oops University - didn't reject me for my MBA. Assholes!). They did this also for my siblings as well. They never kicked me out of the house or required that I pay rent. I also always had awesome birthday parties and they brought me up not ever "wanting for anything" yet did not spoil me.

On occasion, they just said or did some WACKY things! I'm going to try and do this in chronological order:

1. EAT YOUR MASHED POTATOES!: As a child I was a slow eater. My mom would sit and wait at the table while I finished and everyone else would get up and do their thing. One time, everyone had already left but I still had mashed potatoes on my plate. I told my mother that I was full and she replied "eat your mashed potatoes". I insisted that I could not eat anymore and her response was that I better eat them or I would be wearing them. Well, I certainly couldn't eat them without busting a gut so my mom took the plate of mashed potatoes and shoved it in my face! If that wasn't bad enough, she brought me outside to where my friends and siblings were playing and yelled "Hey everybody! This is how Stacey eats her mashed potatoes"! Then she brought me to the bathroom and filled the bathtub with about a centimeter of water and expected me to take a bath in it. To this day, I absolutely LOVE mashed potatoes and usually over extend myself when eating of them.

2. GET OFF THE TOILET NOW!: I am not quite sure how old I was but this is the first memory I have of feeling REALLY insignificant (which is pretty much the theme here). I believe I was in elementary school around 4th grade. Well, I was sitting on the toilet and I hear my father come in the front door, presumably from work and run up the stairs in a panic. He sees the closed bathroom door and says "Who's in there?"
I answer "I am" (what else?). He opens the door sees me on the toilet and forces me to get off. Now I am almost certain he only verbally forced me, not yanked me off the toilet or anything. But I am also pretty certain that his words were all it took. What my father said, went. From this day on I do pee / poop very quickly. I believe this incident scarred me from having a relaxing time doing my business. By the way, we had another bathroom. Why he couldn't run back down the stairs is beyond me.

3. OH,BY THE WAY, DID I MENTION THAT GRANDMA IS DEAD?: A little background information. By the time I was 2 all of my grandparents had passed except my maternal Grandmother. In fact, I didn't even realize that my grandmother was my mother's mother. I mean, my father didn't have a mother, and both my father and mother didn't have fathers. But I knew she was my Grandma and that was all that mattered to have a special relationship. Well, the summer going from I think 6th grade to 7th grade I was away at sleep away camp. My mother told me (in July)that Grandma is sick and that I should write her letters. I wrote letters all summer long and mailed them home for my mom to deliver. On top of that I made all of these arts and craft projects and saved them to personally deliver to her when I got home from camp. I remember specifically making a Chai (hebrew number 18 and symbol of good luck) and I made her a heart both from the copper enamics art class. I think I still even have it in a box in my closet at the house I grew up in. Anyway, the summer is over, I arrive home and my parents take (us) out for dinner. Then they drop the bomb! Grandma died. What??? When???

In friggin July!!!! So I was writing letters and making art projects for a dead person? They didn't think to tell me then? I kind of understand their logic: they didn't want to ruin my summer, and being a 10 year old, what was I going to do anyway? They would have to drive all the way to Pennsylvania to pick me up to bring me to the funeral, and that would just be inconvenient. Still, I think it's kind of weird. Maybe they could have sent me a postcard.

4. SHE DOESN'T WANT TO BABYSIT, SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND: When I was a camp counselor, one of the camper's parents asked me to babysit. Honestly, the kids were awesome. They had fun games to play with, they went to bed when I told them to and on top of that the parents paid $10.00 an hour!!! That was back in the mid 80's which is pretty damn good. Anyway, that summer, like most, I had the boyfriend du season (my summertime boyfriend - to be dumped immediately after labor day). So the parent calls my house and I had unfortunate timing. I was not home and my mother answered!!! UGH! She should never, never, answer the phone, especially if the call is not intended for her (but how would she know that unless she answered, right?). She tells this awesome parent who pays $10 an hour that I am not interested in babysitting because I have a boyfriend. WHAT????? THAT WAS SOOO NOT THE CASE. My mom ruined it for me!!! By the way, I can't even remember boyfriend du season's name but I do remember that the kids were Jamie and David P. of Livingston.

5.I JUST FARTED AND I FEEL BETTER: Ok, so I think I pretty much went unscathed from 10 years old until I was a freshman in college. Granted my mom went on with her inappropriate comments but nothing that affected me directly. Well, Freshman year my friend Susan calls me and during our conversation she asked "How is your dad?" I kind of think it's strange because it's not like she asked "How are your parents?" You know, asking to be nice. I say "Fine, I guess". Then she asks me if he is out of the hospital yet. "What are you talking about, Susan". She answers that he had a heart attack. I quickly hang up and call home. I ask my mom about dad and she says that he is fine, he's right there next to her, not in the hospital. Susan is crazy. I had my mom put my dad on the phone and he said he had chest pains but then on the way to the doctor's office, he farted and everything is fine. Susan must have heard wrong. Well, I accepted this answer..but guess what?? A couple of months later during a long weekend I brought a friend from college home. While sitting in the den, my father said to my friend "Would you like to see my scar from my pacemaker?" So not only did they lie about having a heart attack but my friend finds out about it and the pacemaker before I did! And we were in the same room!

6. OH NO, MY PARENTS ARE GETTING DIVORCED: Sophomore year of college my parents drove up to Rhode Island to pay me a visit. Now you don't understand my parents. They just don't drive a couple of hundred miles to say hi and pay a visit to their daughter. It just wasn't in them (as you will see in my #7). When they arrived my friend Lisa was in my dorm room. They asked her to leave the room because they wanted to talk to me privately. I got a little tingly because I had a premonition that they were going to tell me that they were getting a divorce. Honestly, I wasn't upset..I was actually quite excited. I mean, I have seen children of divorced parents and the parents like to play "Can you top this" with spoiling their children. Well, they proceed to tell me that they have bad news and the news is that my cat, Howard died. I have had this cat since the first grade. I was upset, but seriously, I thought this could have been handled over the phone. It's just so ironic that they DON'T tell me when Grandma dies but they drive 200 miles to tell me that my cat died??????????????? Totally screwed up!!

7. GRANDE FINALE. THEY PUT YOU IN A CAR WITH A STRANGER????????????
Growing up, you always here "Don't talk to strangers" or "never get in a car with a stranger, even if he says he has a lost puppy". Usually it's a parent or adult saying it to a child. In my case, my parents ENCOURAGED me to get into a car with a stranger!?! It was on the Sunday after Thanksgiving my Freshman year of college (Probably one of the busiest traffic days all year). I had gotten a ride home from a girl in my dorm but she had a two seater car. She called me to tell me that over the weekend her mom took her shopping and there was just no room in the car for me. Well, I had some stuff to bring back to school too and I had too much stuff to take on the train by myself. My parents would just have to take me. We left early morning and about an hour later we were still on the Parkway since there was A LOT of traffic. Phones built into cars had just become popular and my father insisted (though it was only 9:00 a.m.) that he call my brother to tell him that they would not be home until midnight. My father's constant complaining was seriously causing me to have suicidal thoughts. Only there were no sharp objects in the car. Every time we passed another car that had a "University of Rhode Island" sticker on the back window, my father would ask me if I knew that person. One time, we passed an older lady in a car that had a sticker. He asked me if she was one of my teachers. When I replied "No" he asked if I was sure. Yes, I'm sure that none of my professors commuted to Rhode Island from New Jersey. Anyway, I could only tolerate this for so long! As we are sitting in bumper to bumper traffic my father spots another car with a URI sticker on it. He again asked if I knew him but this time, so fed up, I said facetiously "No, but would you like me to ask him to take me to school?" I rolled down my window, asked the guy if he was going to URI. When he replied that he was, I asked him if he would take me. Next thing you know, he was pulled over, my dad pulled over, handed him some money, put my bags in his trunk and said "take my daughter to school". Great, so not only was this guy going to kill me, but my father just paid him cash to do it!. Obviously I got to school just fine since I am here to tell all about it. He even invited me to his fraternity house for a party that night AND carried my bags up four flights of stairs. The even better news: My parents bought me a car so that I could drive MYSELF to school!

Honorable Mention: In the 5th grade I fell while roller skating at Livingston Roller Rink. When I came home and told my mother, she refused to take me to the hospital because she said that I was faking it for attention. (Actually it was my Aunt who suggested I was faking, but my mom was easily persuaded). After spending the night in her bed and waking every hour in pain, she finally took me to the hospital the next day. Yep, it was broken.

Don't kid yourself, Your Kid is not cute.

I have always wondered...Do parents of ugly children REALLY believe that their kids are cute? I realize that when babies are born, mothers (and fathers) are usually delusional and believe that their baby is gorgeous and the best looking baby ever. I did not have that delusion. Not trying to be mean, but when my daughter was born she wasn't cute. She had big eyes and her tongue hung out of her mouth. Fortunately she quickly became adorable. And no, I'm not being one of those delusional mothers I am writing about. Even strangers would come up to me and tell me how pretty she was (and still is). A stranger would not do that. A stranger would just not say anything at all. Anyway, anyone who knows my true identity would be happy to back me up on this.

There are other ways parents are delusional into thinking their kid is cute, other than just their physical features. There are moms (and dads) who think that whatever their kid does or says is just hysterical and so original. Every time you see them they have some stupid anecdote about their child.

There is such a mother in my daughter's Saturday class. Her kid is U-G-L-Y. I know, I know, it's mean to say about a child. But I'm not saying it to to the kid's face or anything. It really is just a fact. On the first day I swear I thought someone dressed up a pet monkey in a pink tu-tu. I can't believe that anyone would think that this kid is cute. But the mother just goes on and on about her child. She always brings up these stupid stories like "oh and then she said 'no mommy, I'm tree not two'". And she acts like this is just the funniest thing. I just want to tell her that the story was not so funny and we (well I) really don't care. When looking and listening to her, in my head I'm actually thinking her kid is not nearly as cute as the mother believes her to be and quite frankly the mother is annoying too. At the same time I'm wondering if my face is reflecting that I am interested in her story or if she can tell that I just don't give a crap and stop talking to me.

The worst, worst is when an ugly kid misbehaves. One time in my daughter's music class there was this girl around 2 or 3 years old. This girl was a BRAT! She would steal instruments out of other kids hands, push kids and so on. Not only did the mom not discipline her daughter but she would just laugh or smile when the kid misbehaved. As we were leaving the class and putting on coats, the brat pushed my child. Oh! NO! Maybe other parents looked the other way to be nice but not me. I told the mother that her child just was not cute enough to get away with that behavior. Now honestly, if the girl was a good looking girl, I still don't think the behavior or the mom's reaction would be appropriate. But for some reason I felt that the child being un-cute made is even less tolerable. Call me shallow I guess.

Do parents see an illusion when it comes to their own children? G-d (or whatever supreme being you fall for) makes it such that women forget the pain of childbirth so that they procreate again. Does He do the same with ugly kids? Does he distort the child's image in the parent's brain so they only see beauty?