Happily Ever After...

I realized something this morning, as I skimmed through Valentine's Blogs and Ads, that I had never realized before. Valentine's Day is not for lovers. It's a way to explain "love" to people who don't have lovers. So, here's my addition to the bowl of shit.
Valentine's Day, as most holidays, is about two things.
Number one... 
Little kids can have a ball with it. The reason behind this one is simple. Little kids have a right to believe in magic. Little kids are adorable when they create awful crafts. Little kids are the fucking cutest when they await the approval of Mommy, or Daddy, after they've destroyed a cupcake with a horrible frosting job, or annihilated a clean white piece of paper with indiscernible scribblings.
Kids are simple-minded.
 Isn't it precious?
The problem with this is that these kids grow up and, on a few days out of the year, still believe that the magic of St. Valentine's Day is real.
Is magic real? 
As adults, our collective ideas about love are bonkers. We are made to believe fairy tales, because the truth about relationships is not interesting enough to tell stories about.  Let me start with the myth of "Love at first sight". 
Absorb this!
You see a beautiful purse on display and you have to have it. Love at first sight? Then, you take a closer look and the lining is for shit. What do you do? Do you spend a bunch of money on it, and say that you'll take it home and replace the lining yourself? HELL NO! You don't purchase it, because its crap.
Now, having said that, I have to say that you should not be looking for a perfect purse, either. You are not perfect.  You are weird in ways that you will not even fully understand. How do you rectify this situation?
If you think that finding a mate requires a bit of research and is not very romantic, at all... Congratulations! You will, one day, be very happy.
Let Go!
Forget about all the bullshit about Prince Charming. There's a reason the stories didn't delve into his personality too deeply. He could've been a drug addict, or cross dresser, or cheater, or a butthole fetishist... Who the hell knows, but I know the dude was probably fucked up in one way or another. Why wouldn't he be? That's why they end the story right at the hook-up. "Happily Ever After" translates to "We'll Spare You the Uninteresting Stuff... Enjoy the Rest of Your Day, Idiot!"...
Number two...
You want a day of leisure, and/or a lovely present! This is the most reasonable desire.
Here's where it gets stupid. You want an expensive gift and to know that someone cares about... the date. You are not so much focused on the fact that you do, or do not, have a mate who loves you. You need to know that your mate is aware of what day it is. This brings up back to the belief in magic.
What gets me is that most people would scoff at going to a palm reader, but the belief in any type of "magic" is just as crazy as the next. You know I am right if you think about it objectively.
February 14th is a fucking day on a calendar! People have starved to death, and murdered, on this day. It's not important.
Don't get me wrong. I bought my husband a gift, baked the cupcakes, and spent time with my daughter as she made an awesomely terrible card.  He scheduled himself to work today. I will not be spending Valentine's Day with my lover, so I did the most practical thing. I made him feel terrible and bought myself a really expensive bottle of perfume. We will celebrate our love on February 15th. It will be nice.
After all is said and done... At the end of the day, there will be dishes to do, and shitty asses to wipe. That is the true "Happily Ever After...".

The Importance of Modern Family

My older sister moved to a different city when I was still in high school, so it was hard for us to remain as close as we had been. Since that time we each found our own paths and started our own families. It is the same old tale with most families. We never saw each other like we wanted, but life just traveled on.
When I got pregnant with my first child, she delivered the most honest advice I could have expected. In most cases, you can only really rely on your older sister to be perfectly blunt about the ugly parts of the most beautiful things in life. She came back to town in the summer. Warm weather always reminds me of her visits. We would sit on the back deck and lazily drink Coors Light as our children swarmed around us at seemingly light speed. Her girls were a breath of fresh air in a sea of boys. I ended up having a girl to add to the number, so that was good.  A little over a year ago, I got an email from her that I will never forget. The subject was: Modern Family. The TV show, Modern Family had just premiered and she couldn't be more ecstatic about it. It was funny how it was and how much it reminded her of her own life.
I made a point to TiVo the premiere episode and I loved it. It's rare that I will like a show right from the start. Most shows take time to grow on me. Modern Family had me hooked, and my sister and I shared that link across many miles.
She sent me an email about the last episode before the Winter hiatus that was brief and served mostly to make sure that I'd seen it, and was up to date. This was in either late November, or early December of 2009.
It was so run-of-the-mill.
I wish it was more poignant.
 I wish it had said more... I didn't even respond to it.
It would be the last time I had any contact with her.
My sister was killed on the way home from a Christmas party, one week before Christmas.
She was driving home on a stretch of road that she had driven hundreds of times. She hesitated on a sharp turn and went over into a steep ditch.
I still have the emails she sent me singing the praises of Modern Family, and laughing about it with her family. After she died, I made a pact with myself that I would never miss one episode. Everytime I watch one, I think of my beautiful sister.
Everytime Modern Family wins an award, I think of my sister and how she would have congratulated herself for being able to pick a winner.
It's funny how mundane things can become so important in hindsight.
So, I say congratulations to everyone involved with the show and thank them for helping me have one last connection with my sister.

From Kid to Kids

I know it has been a while since I have last shown my face around these parts, but the last few months of my pregnancy were just as dramatic as I knew they would be. I am a grade A drama queen, so I will spare you the minutiae. Anyway... All is well now that my beautiful little boy is out of my body and thriving in his swing.
My second, and thankfully last, pregnancy contained many horrific side affects that I didn't have to deal with the first time around. My OB, an angel on earth, had to listen to my every ache and pain and, to tell you the truth, I had some weird shit going on.
The most unexpected and confusing part of having a second baby, is how the first child will react. My daughter is two and I had somewhat of an idea as to how she would respond to my son, but I was still at a loss as to how to respond to her.
First, I will give you a little back story about my daughter. She is an amazing little entertainer. She is a gorgeous green-eyed blonde with a constant smile and a knack for completely pulling the wool over our eyes. She dances, she sings... She makes jokes that are actually funny on a, somewhat, advanced level. The problem is not that she has any animosity toward her new brother, it's that, not unlike the Incredible Hulk or Lennie from Of Mice and Men , she doesn't realize her own strength.  She wants so badly to be able to take care of her brother, but she just ends up hovering over him and slobbering all over his face.
The most important thing, to me, is to make sure that she realizes that things are going to be different. I also want her to know that she is an intergral part of our family. It is so strange. She is just a little girl, and her brother is just a little baby, but they are what makes the world go 'round!
She has grown up so much in the last month. I am astounded everyday. She brings pampies to help diaper her brother, and she soothes him by saying, "Don't fry baby!" She still hasn't mastered the world "cry".
I have noticed that she tries a little harder to get our attention and is a little louder than she use to be, but if that is the worst of it, I think she's doing pretty damn well.

The Truth About Breastfeeding

Here is a little tidbit of truth that most mothers won't tell you.  If you breastfeed your child, you can save money and sleep through the night.  When my daughter was born, I had decided I was going to stay at home with her.  I figured she could be my job, and I was right... Boy, was I right.  When they say 24 hours a day, they mean it.  She had to be fed every 3 hours a night.  If you have never had a child, you could not imagine the severity of waking up two, or three, times a night to feed your child. 
I never thought I would breastfeed my children because I figured I devoted my body for 10 months to the nourishment of a baby.  I wanted my body back.  But, my husband believed it was important for a "bonding" experience between mother and child.  I thought his reasoning was sound, and adorable, so I thought I would at least give it a try. 
Let me tell you, it was the best decision I made, and have yet to make, during my tenure as a mother. 
I should mention that to say my breasts are large is an understatement.  My breasts are ungainly and, for the most part, have been a hindrance on my life.  When I was breast feeding my daughter, they finally made sense.  My breasts served a purpose.  Now, breast size means nothing when it comes to breast feeding. Small and medium tits work fine.  I have always hated my boobs but, for once, I could understand their purpose... Anyway, I felt more comfortable with my body when I was breast feeding.  The bonding experience is not just a bunch of new age babble.  It is real.  When it was time to wean my little girl, it was harder on me than it was on my daughter.  For 6 months of her life, she needed me to survive... Literally!  When she got hungry, only I could provide her sustenance.  But, that's not what I wanted to tell you.
What I want to express...
What I want to say is that breast feeding is so simple, it is almost unreal.  My friend had a baby 3 months before me and she did not breast feed.  When her baby cried, during the night, she had to get up, go downstairs, make a bottle, warm it, and come back up to feed the baby.  Not to mention the bottles she then had to clean.  When you breast feed, all you need is you and a baby.  I could lay on my side, lay my baby next to me, and presto!  We could fall back to sleep together.  I am a pretty light, to moderate, sleeper so I didn't have to worry about rolling over on her.  God, it was so easy. 
The other thing I wanted to talk about is the cost.  When my daughter was 6 months old, I learned a shocking truth... Formula is $7 a bottle.  She drank about a bottle and a half a day.  That was a huge pain in the ass. 
As you know, I am pregnant again, and I hope that my son is as easy to feed as my daughter was.  They say it is a different experience with every baby.  I welcome that experience.  I definitely recommend breast feeding to all the reasonable mother's out there.  It is not just a "spiritual" experience.  For me, it was the right choice.  If you are lazy and cheap, like me, give it a try. 

How Difficult Can It Be???

Have you ever tried to potty train a child?  I have lived through many tragedies and hardships.  I consider myself a strong person, but the chore of potty training my two year old is testing my fortitude.  This is like torture and... what's worse than torture?  My little trainee is probably the best specimen I could ask for.  She questions the fundamentals of this process.  How can I explain it in a way that applies as little shame as possible to the act of shitting one's pants?  I have to iterate to her the possibility of using the potty as a cleaner, more mature, way of evacuating the bowels and bladder.  I, as a "good" mother, don't want my little girl to feel bad about slipping up. 
The issue at this point, about day 5... who the hell knows, for sure?..., is her inability to properly gauge when it is time to go potty.  She senses the "need" about 5 minutes too early, and abandons the endevour about 30 seconds too early.  She decides her need to pee-pee is a false alarm, walks away, and pisses on the carpet about five feet from the potty.  This happens about thirty times from seven A.M. til three P.M.  I am afraid, by day 8 or so, I will have lost my ability to use the potty.  I have never felt this level of frustration in my life.  She has to go "pee-pee, poo-poo, potty, doo-doo, YUCK!" about every ten minutes, and has to shed all garments in order to mentally prepare herself to eventually lose heart and abandon this process, altogether.  Nine tenths of my days are spent chasing a two year old, naked, child up and down hallways... all around the fucking place.  She is like an evil little devil cherub who's lost her wings, bobbing and weaving.  She is cursing and swearing in her little gibberish language. 
I long to spank her... 
How evil would it be to spank a beautiful little, angel faced, girl just for not knowing how to use a toilet?  My mind is going...
The worst part of this whole thing is that my daughter is having a ball.  She never becomes frustrated.  She uses every opportunity to get buck naked and streak all over the place.  She loves it... loves it. 
God love her. 
God help me!

Toddlers, Tiaras, and Childsploitation!

Is there a more horrifying form of child abuse, aside from molestation? I saw a beautiful little three year old crying because she didn't win a crown.  She didn't win a crown! As I watch this train wreck of a show, my two year old lays on the bed covered in peach juice.  She doesn't understand the point of the show.  Why aren't we watching "Nemo"?  Why, the hell, aren't we watching "Nemo"?  I think I am mezmerized by this show to see how low the parents will sink.  How badly they will behave?  Could you imagine spray tanning your three year old?  What the fuck?  I don't care who they are, or what their particular malfunctions are. These parents are sick!  Brow beating a baby until she suffers and emotional break, in front of a bunch of pageant moms and pedophiles, should be punishable by law.  Today, there is a marathon of hearbreak and abuse.  I think I am finished.  It's my own fault.  I watch too much TV.  My daughter is diving head first into a crate of toys, and I am wasting my time watching this shit on TV.  I do have an additional question... How do these ogres have such beautiful little girls.  I am no prize, I know that, but these broads are rough.  They need to stop worrying about buying false teeth for their little girls, and get their own teeth looked after.  I have such a hatred and disdain for these sick bitches, I don't feel bad about expressing it.  I know that these types of people have been around forever, but I don't understand the need to put them on TV.  If this wasn't on, there might be something good on.  I watch crap, and this is too shitty for me!  Oh well!  I think I'll take my daughter's advice.  We'll watch "Nemo"... I think I am going to try to talk her into "Monster's Inc.", instead.

My Days as a Shut In

The new school year has started, and I am left to give every waking second to my daughter, the housework and my gestating baby boy.  I couldn't be happier!  I am an introvert at heart.  It seems that, without having to empathize with the problems of others, I don't really have anything to worry about.  The days just fly by.  I should feel... ashamed?... I guess most people would say that I should surround myself with people.  Don't get me wrong.  I have friends, but I don't interject myself into the lives of others.  I don't care if no one thinks about me during the day.  I know my husband thinks about me.  I know my daughter thinks about me... or what I can do for her, rather!  I am content with that.  When the time comes that I can be alone with my daughter and an unfolded pile of laundry, or a bowl full of potatoes that need peeling, I feel really zen.  I feel lucky to have such well defined goals.  I feel indulged with the idea that I don't have to conquer anything too complex.  I know that the time will come that I will need to battle a crisis, or cry for the persecuted of the world, but today I don't have to do that. 
For most of my life, I have been raised to believe that I should be more social.  I have never felt that way.  I know that probably no one will read this blog, but that doesn't change the fact that I am writing it.  I am probably just selfish, but I am okay with that too.  Who am I hurting? 
I went to Wal-Mart last night and had an hour, or so, to myself.  I pondered whether, or not, to buy some rust-colored Better Homes and Gardens throw pillows.  That was the extent of my evening.  I didn't buy them, by the way.  Pillows are another post, altogether!
I think I am finally happy with myself.  I am in love with my babies and my husband.  I love them and worry about them, and I know that they love me.  What else do I need. 
I know I sound way too happy.  I am not on drugs.  I will write plenty of "bitchy" posts.  I figured I would give my readers, and myself, a break.
Well... My little girl is begging for Cheetos.  Duty Calls!