Marriage is Just Legal Prostitution Anyway.

Him: You ironed my cargo pants. Huh.

Me: Of course I did. If I'm going to iron, I'm going to iron everything.

Him: You didn't iron my t-shirts.

Me: No. Really? T-shirts?

Him: You said you iron everything.

Me: Everything people can see. No one sees your t-shirts.

Him: That's what you think.

Me: Well, everyone that does see them is going to just crumple them up in a ball and throw them on the floor anyway.

Him: All the more reason to have them ironed.

Me: Maybe you could work that into your fee structure.

(Awkward pause)

Me: $1 a ride and ironing. That's a fair charge, wouldn't you say?

Him: Honey, the only person I pay for sex is you.

Me: Game, set, match.

Winds of Change

(Psst: BusyDad and I have a new post up at our brand new site. Don't be afraid to stop in and say hi.)


Not only am I the worst mother ever, now I get to wear the coveted badge of meanest mother ever, too.

Remember when you were a kid, and you woke up Saturday morning at exactly half past way too early and ran down the stairs into your wood-paneling covered living room and poured yourself a big ol' bowl of Pac Man cereal and grabbed a wire hanger to shove into the back of your tv and plopped down on the orange (or green, if your parents were classy) extra-shag carpet and turned that tv dial no less than 5,719 times to get to the one and only channel on the one and only day that broadcast cartoons?

No? Well, you're too young to be reading this, then.

Yes, well so do I. And now my kids do, too.

I used to forbid tv on schoolnights. Period. The tv went off Sunday after dinner and didn't come back on, except for news, until Friday night. And then my kids started in with the Discovery Channel. Who says no to that? And then one of them went and taught himself how to read adult level geek cheat books at age 7 in order to kick Zelda's ass, and I'm not the only one who thought that was note-worthy, nigh rewardable. I caved. Slowly, almost unnoticeably, they reclaimed the boob tube.

The situation became grim, and my husband and I had to make some "serious decisions." The kids had sat on their asses one too many times, not getting ready for Little League, making us late, having lost a mitt, and he'd just had it. We put them to bed and spent the night "hashing it out." We came to the conclusion that we are the proud parents of two ungrateful spoiled children who don't know how good they have it. I mean, when he was a kid, he had to be out the door at 4 to hit the pool for swim team. I had to have my little brothers and sisters ready to go before I left at 6:15 for my bus. He had to walk 15 miles in the snow oh my god we are our parents.

We "got it all sorted out" and then we went to bed.

And that was our biggest mistake.

We had stayed up entirely too late "making decisions"* and we sort of overslept. And by sort of, I mean I woke up 7 minutes before school began. I ran downstairs, frantically checked my email**, and then found both of my children wide awake, playing fucking Mario or something, in their jammies, not at all ready for school.

They are 8 and 10. It is still technically my job to get them up and ready, but when mom has one long night, I assume they will at least look at a clock. Hells nos. They were busy. I was pissed.

They made it out the door in less than 10 minutes and when they came home that afternoon, guess what? They had lost tv privileges. Like, forever.

We are reverting back to my old rule about no tube during the week. They survived one week intact. They crammed as much as they could get in this weekend, and tomorrow begins week two. God help me.

As if that isn't enough, Princess-TheWorldIsMyOyster-Cup found out the definition of the word Big Girl the other day. Guess who isn't in a crib anymore? Guess who also had to break up with her bottles? That's right. I am cruel. Someone call Child Services.

I converted her crib to the toddler bed. I didn't ask her, or tell her, I just did it. Night one, she was too busy being pissed off about no bottle to notice. Night two she kept asking for Big Wall. What is Big Wall? The missing side of her crib. Tonight went much better. She didn't whine at me at all. Of course, it's 11:13 and as I type this there is a dirty Q-Tip being shoved up my nose, but at least she isn't crying. Surprisingly enough, she took to a sippy cup of water instead of a bottle of milk with no trouble at all.

Oh, wait, now there's TWO Q-Tips. One for each nostril. At least it's balanced now.

I think that I have had a personal revelation or two as of late, but yeah...no Q-Tips in that story. Maybe another day.

*If you haven't figured out what the " 's are alluding to yet, maybe you really ARE too young to be here.

**Shut up. You'd do it, too, and you know it.

This Week In...

This week in I Officially Have No Free Time:
Once upon a time, my favorite dad on the internet, BusyDad, and I lost our fucking minds and bought a domain name. And then, after a little deliberation and a lot of NewCastle, we slapped it on a website. And today, it's open for business. Stark Raving Dads is the name, shelling out free, bad advice to guys is the game. Think I'm wrong? Think we have tons of sound advice for you? Um, neither of us have read one parenting book, we both let our kids play with knives, with fire, and open beers. But we've managed to keep them alive and to keep ourselves sane this long, so we've gotta know something, right? Come visit us. Feel free to laugh at us. With us. Something.

This week in You've Got To Be Fucking Kidding Me:
And I quote: "Yesterday, we had a black bear visit our dumpster," says the letter sent home from school with my kids yesterday. "A member of our community notified us. The students were at recess at the time." Um, guys, the dumpster is RIGHT NEXT to the playground. And I know my kids are pretty darn tasty. Just sayin'.

This week in Let Me Make Stalking Me As Easy As Humanly Possible:
June 7th, at The Corner Office in The Curtis Hotel, I will not be sitting with David, The Blogger Formerly Known As Andy, and some of the coolest Rocky Mountain Bloggers drinking til it hurts philosophizin' and pontificatin'. Making the world a better place, you know? They will be, thanks to ViewMyLife.com who is helping us throw this spring's Rocky Mountain Blogger Bash (unless they want to fly me out for it, yo. *winkwink*) I will, however, be there on August 28th, same Bat place, same Bat time. That's right, ViewMyLife.com has agreed to throw not one but TWO bashes. The August one? Last day of The Democratic National Convention. It's the PERFECT excuse for bloggers far and wide, young and old, to come do body shots off each other lend their voice to the upcoming election. Resurrection Song, the Former World Wide Rant and this silly little Mommy Blogger are your hosts for the evening. To RSVP, or to just be nosey and snoop, or to get in early on the site that makes MySpace look like great big pansies (Oh, wait, they did that themselves?) set yourself up an account at ViewMyLife.com and look for Mr Lady or Zombyboy. We'll help you RSVP. It's a really cool site. I bet you'll like it, too.

This week in Someone Call the Exterminator; There's a Bug in Here:
Doesn't look like much, right? Right. But wait, what's that noise?

Regular everyday normal dryer


Is there something, um, errr, in there?

What\'s that?


Oh shit. How'd THAT get in there?

BOO!


Maybe it's wrong, maybe I'm going straight to Maytag hell, but this was the cutest thing I have EVER found in the wrong place.

This week in Celebrity Appearances:
It's 6am right now. Wanna know when the last time I saw 6am is? Me, too. Someone in my family is going to be on tv this morning, and that someone is quite nervous about it, since it's going to be re-broadcast nation-wide. And the best part of all? It's not COPS.

More coffee, please....

Politics

Perfect Post Award - 0508Five Star Friday
Big fat wet kissy hugs to Hotfessional for nominating this post for Petroville and Suburban Turmoil's May 08 Perfect Post. And thanks to them for not telling her it was crap. :)

I had a whole different post written for today. Three times, actually. I was trying to decide which draft to go with when I clicked on The Queen Mum's blog. And followed that back to Maria's. And then I scrapped it and started this post instead. Girls, this little momma who refuses to watch the news or read the paper thanks you today for the heads-up.

So, there is almost nothing I won't talk about on this blog, as you all are painfully aware of by now. I do, however, have a few things I steer away from. I don't write about my marriage, or my husband, because I did that once and it really hurt him. I don't write about the kid's godfather, because he asked me not to. Hell, I wouldn't write about anyone who asked me not to. I have a friend who is going through some legal battles, and he is one of my best friends, and I can't really write about him either, or his troubles, because of who he is in love with. And that infuriates me, but he needs me to use discretion. I try to keep the childhood posts to a minimum, because they are hard to write and, I imagine, hard to read. I don't blog about blogging, and it kind of drives me nuts when people do.

Other than that, it's sort of open season around here.

The one other thing I don't talk about, almost ever, that maybe I have hit on two or three times in all these years of blogging is politics. My choice is to play dumb over the internet. No one who reads this would have any clue that I give a dingo's kidneys about the political structure of the world.

You couldn't be more wrong.

I am ridiculously political, and stubborn, and opinionated, and I have not ever been able to find the right words to express my views clearly. I can argue religion or abortion or creationism with you all day long, but politics makes me stutter. I'll leave that sort of thing to Steve Green or Zombyboy or Instapundit. They know what they're talking about.

For one day only, I am going to share my thoughts with you, and then we are never going to talk about this again, okay?

I am mad at America. I am seethingly, silent treatment, sleeping on the couch pissed at America. Why? Because I have nothing good to tell my children about our government right now, and that is wrong.

I am not a Democrat, and I am sure as hell not a Republican. I don't really fit the Libertarian niche either. I am just a girl, born in America, who is very concerned. The kids godfather (see, I break rules) one shared this quote with me:

"If you're not a liberal when you're 20, you have no heart. If you're not a conservative when you're 40, you have no head."


I laughed. AT HIM. We then got into a heated argument about whether the Afghanistan conflict was going to fall into Iraq. We debated whether or not there were WMD's in Iraq. I told him, ooooh I told him that there weren't, that it was a lie and a scam and it was going to turn into war, and he swore there were. He stood behind his President. America stood behind their President and I, being too uneducated in the political system, stood back and held my breath.

Turns out, I was right. Turns out, we all got duped. Turns out, we re-elected this guy and then have just sat back and whined about what he's done to America, to the Middle East, to the global dynamic. That pisses me off, and that is why I am mad at America. We are, in the end, a bunch of freaking sissies who can't find the balls to stand up to a little guy from Texas who can't even speak one coherent sentence.

But still, I find myself following that quote more and more in my own life. My brother and I once argued over politics, social programs and such. I yelled at him for being so Republican, so against absolute help to those in need. I was disgusted by his views on taxes, how he complained about having so much taken from him to give to those less fortunate. How could he justify those statements? We grew up SOLELY provided for by the state and federal government. His point? He worked and kicked an scraped to give himself a better life, that it wasn't handed to him, that he had no privilege and almost no help, and he did it anyway. Basically, I said, "Dude, don't forget where you come from," and he said, "I didn't. I remember every day, and every day I work to make sure I never end up there again."

That? I can't argue that. Tell me more about flat tax now....

I don't think any change can come, any good can be done, until we overhaul the government. It has failed to serve us, the people. There are too many lobbyists and agendas and, well, politicians. Too much money is funneled towards special interests, and too many Americans who truly need are overlooked. Too many people go hungry, and unable to afford rent or food, at the cost of bombs and Halliburton and CEO's retirement funds. Too many communties are destroyed because Americans forgot to take care of America first and outsourced to China or wherever. The Lady Justice has some brutally unbalanced scales right now. And no one is doing anything about it. Me included. Hell, I turned tail and moved to CANADA. I am guilty as charged, yo.

I have sat on my pansy, fence-riding ass and waited for a whisper of revolution. For even one person to stand up and fight this governing body. I have waited for either Obama or Clinton to really attack they system as it is and instead I am listening to them bicker for a seat in it. I have waited for the Republican party to stand up for itself, to say, Hey, Man, this isn't what we meant. That guy isn't us. They haven't. They have positioned the one guy in the party who has proven he is too afraid to fight Bush head on to be his successor. And that is a damn shame, because I think if McCain could just stop and think for HIMSELF for two seconds, that he might actually have a something or two to contribute to restoring this country.

I am angry that my generation has not done what the generations before us have. We haven't effected change. We haven't stood up. We have more technology, more connection, and more knowledge than any generation before us has had, and they did something. They made massive strides for Civil Rights. They Protested the Vietnam War. We blog about how offended we are by one idiot. We listen to 24 hour news channels talk about Hilary's outfit choices. We watch Michael Moore documentaries that prey upon our fears the same way Bush did, and we let Bill O'Reilly convince us we're traitors if we stand up for what we believe is right. How can they end segregation with a radio and some very shady black and white tv reception and we can't stop these people from ruining our COUNTRY with all the tools that we have at our disposal?

It pisses me off. And so I do nothing about it. I don't even write about it, because honestly, I am beyond hope. I have thrown my hands in the air and given up. I never imagined, after 6 1/2 years of listening to lies, of waiting for someone to do something about it, that anyone ever would. I figured everyone, like me, was holding their breath too, waiting for November to hurry up and get here already.

And then, today, this:

Today, Keith Olbermann, you made me proud to be an American. Today, I finally heard some one stand up to that man and tell him to shove it up his ass. More importantly, I heard someone tell his ADMINISTRATION that at least one of us in on to them.

I am not going to be silent anymore. I am not going to hide behind the fact that I write a trivial mommy blog anymore. This is MY country, my CHILDREN'S country. This is what I am leaving them, and I am going to make damn sure it is righteous and upstanding and just.

I am not a Democrat. I am not a Republican. I am not an ex-pat. I am an AMERICAN. That is all.*

*Well, that's not all, really, but in the interests of keeping even two readers, I'm going to shut the hell up now.

Kindly linked by Five Star Friday, DaysGoBy, A Soul on Every Path. and Hank, who thinks I'm nuts but found the best way besides telling me how great my boobs look to tell me that.

29 and counting

I\'ve been doing this shit way too longSee this? Yeah, you're reading that right. 970 posts. This one here's gonna make 971. That means that in 29 posts, which is embarrassingly enough just about 29 days, I'm going to hit 1K.

Here's the thing. I never did one of those 100 Things posts, because I didn't read mommy blogs back then. Hell, I didn't know there were mommy blogs, or any blog that wasn't political or educational, back then. I didn't know I should do a 100 Things post.

The other thing is that I can't manage to put together 7 things about me. The only thing that bores me more than CSI NY is me. But, I am about to hit a benchmark of sorts, and I feel that there should be something happening to mark the occasion, and since martinis and petit fours don't really translate over an internet connection, I had another idea.

YOU GUYS know stuff about me. You know loads about me. For example, from this post alone thus-far you know that I like politics and education issues, drink martinis, would actually try to insert a petit four into a blog post, and that CSI NY is my least favorite CSI. I would never normally think of any of that stuff. And with it...

YOUR MISSION, SHOULD YOU CHOOSE TO ACCEPT IT:

We have 29 days to come up with 1,000 things about me.

Leave what you know in the comments box. Let's try to avoid the "She's hot"s and the "She's a terrible mother"s; we will have nothing but that otherwise. Dig deep, dear readers. It'll be a fun experiment in how much we can actually learn about someone just by reading their blog.

29 days left.....gogogo!