Because Wildlife Sucks.

We have a squirrel problem. 

Last winter we started hearing scratching in the walls and would randomly have a brown squirrel peeking through the window of our bedroom taunting the cat to come get it.

The squirrel was living in the space above the ceiling of our front porch and we put out a humane trap to catch it.  We scattered a few peanuts and apple slices inside the cage and thought for sure that we'd get him.  But the squirrel was smarter than us. 

That little fucker managed to get ALL the food out without ever stepping foot into the trap not once, but 3 nights in a row.  On the 4th night we put out a whole apple, figuring that he would HAVE to go in to get it because the apple is too big to be pulled out.  In the morning, half the apple was in the cage and the cage was shut, but the squirrel was no where to be found.   

Ben's first thought was to get a BB gun, but I insisted that he call a squirrel catcher to come get it.  We searched online and everything I read said that squirrels are EXTREMELY hard to get rid of.  Ben reminded me of our former (obviously bat shit crazy) neighbor who told us that the squirrels will come back year after year and that she ultimately had to trap them (you may want to look away now) and drown the entire family of them in a barrel.  But we don't really have a lot of random barrels and I also think that borders on completely psychotic. 

I begged Ben to just call an exterminator so that the nest could be removed properly so that they didn't come back next year.  But since Ben is a manly and clearly he can patch a hole better than anyone else who has ever had a squirrel problem, he decided he would take care of it. 

Ben went up and patched the hole the squirrel was using as a foyer and waited.  Nothing.  No sound, no squirrel.  Done.  Right?

The next day, the squirrel was back rabidly gnawing at the patch trying to get in.  It was not deterred by the water we sprayed it with or the rocks we threw at it.  Ben had a guy working on our house doing some painting and it literally chased him into the house.  The squirrel was completely freaking out. 

This is from scienceblogs.com.  Seriously.

That night at about 3 am, we found out why.

We started to hear this awful screeching noise.  It sounded a little like the noise a washing machine makes when one of the belts is faulty except not continuous.  It would happen for a few minutes and then stop.  Ben thought that the squirrel was standing outside our window screaming but it didn't take long for me to diagnose that the screaming was coming from inside the bedroom wall.

The squirrel had babies.  And now the babies were dying inside our wall. 

This was when I was in the trenches with my depression and the wailing squirrel babies were too much for me to take.  I was pretty sure that we were going to burn in hell for killing the baby squirrels and the sound was gut-wrenching.  I cried until morning and sent Ben out as soon as the sun came up to unpatch the hole.  We would have to wait until we knew the babies were gone.

Several days went by, and one day we were getting Lila into the car and we saw the squirrel doing something extremely creepy.  If you've never seen a squirrel climb down the side of a house with a black squirrel baby coming out of its little squirrel mouth, please know that it is the stuff of nightmares.  The thing LITERALLY walked down the side of the wall with the baby squirrel curled up with it's little back legs wrapped around mama squirrel's head.  I still have nightmares.

This was GREAT!  We waited another couple of days and it was time to patch that sucker back up. 

Summer came and went and so did fall.  We had no problem.  The rabid asshole squirrel seemed to have found a happy home elsewhere and was no longer burrowing into our walls.  We actually kind of forgot about it and were making plans to put siding and a roof on the house in a few weeks. 

Usually I am not home in the middle of the afternoon, but a couple of days ago my mother had a doctors appointment and I was home with Lila.  I was in the bedroom when I heard that familiar scratching sound. 

THAT ASSHOLE SQUIRREL WAS BACK!!!

I looked out out bedroom window to see if I could see it gnawing at the top of the porch but I couldn't.  So I ran outside and looked up and saw this gigantic fat black squirrel (not to be racist) giving me the eyeball while standing up on it's hind feet like a furry Clint Eastwood. 

It didn't look like this.

It looked like this.

But it wasn't the terrifying monster squirrel that caught my attention.  The squirrel had gnawed a gigantic hole into the side of the house.  Not the little corner where the original hole was.  This is gaping squirrel sized hole on the SIDE OF MY HOUSE.  I have no idea how the hell a squirrel manages to defy gravity and work on the actual WALL OF THE HOUSE but this guy did. 

I begged Ben at this point to PLEASE just call a squirrel exterminator (ex-squirrel-inator) to take care of the problem once and for all, but he insisted he would take car of it that day.  He didn't.  After mentioning it every for 2 weeks (and being accused of being a nagging bitch every time), yesterday I finally found the phrase that would motivate him to get his ass up there and patch it (because you know that there's no way that I am climbing up on a ladder and confronting giant rabies squirrel myself).  "Do it before it has babies in there!"

Today when I came home from work (I get out at 2 on Fridays), he was on the ladder with several pieces of wood and a tool belt.  Very official looking.  

As I got out of the car, it crossed my mind, but I am always the little dark rain cloud who thinks the worst and I tried not to say it but I did anyway.  "You're sure the squirrel isn't in there, right?"

He confidently told me that he hasn't seen or heard it all day so it MUST be gone.  "It could just be sleeping in there...in fact, the fact that it isn't scampering around out here snapping tree branches with its heft is a good indication that it is NOT gone..."  But I didn't say THAT.  I just dropped it.

Ben declared victory and went back to work. 

Boy I did NOT enjoy having to call him an hour later and tell him that the squirrel is now trying to claw its way out of the wall.  And he got all fucking mad!  At the squirrel!!!  Like he didn't just decide to take a shortcut (many).

Am I allowed to say "I FUCKING TOLD YOU!!!" 

New Addition to my Shit List.

I am sure this is going to make me seem bigoted and narrow-minded, but for some reason this really infuriated me when I read it.

Listen, I am all for gender equality and all that shit, but this couple should probably have been sterilized before they had the chance to ruin this kid's life. 

Couple Finally Reveals Child's Gender, Five Years After Birth

It's a boy! And he's five. Beck Laxton, 46, and partner Kieran Cooper, 44, have spent half the decade concealing the gender of their son, Sasha.

"I wanted to avoid all that stereotyping," Laxton said in an interview with the Cambridge News. "Stereotypes seem fundamentally stupid. Why would you want to slot people into boxes?"

Laxton, a UK-based web editor, and her partner, Cooper, decided to keep Sasha's sex a secret when he was still in the womb. The birth announcement stated the name of the gender-neutral name of their child, but skipped the big reveal. Up until recently, the couple only told a few close friends and family members that Sasha was a boy and managed to keep the rest of the world in the dark. But now that he's starting school the secret's out."

(courtesy Yahoo! News)

Sasha better get used to that attitude...

There are about a thousand things wrong with this but I will start with some of the most obvious:

First I want to answer this asshole's question about why you would want to assign someone a gender or ("slot people into boxes").  Here it is:  Because I am pretty sure that throughout the history of the earth, this system has seemed to work pretty well for nature FOR MILLIONS OF YEARS.  There are boy bees and girl bees, and they have different tendencies.  There are even male and female parts on plants.  Who the fuck are you to thwart your little experiment in defying nature on some innocent kid who just wants to be a kid? 

Do I understand that the way we act and the things we do in life are sometimes dictated by our genders?  Yes.  Do I know that some people feel that they are not made to be the gender their sexy parts tell them to be?  Yes, and I have seen that first hand.  Do I agree that the male and female roles are something that is entirely based on a man-made construct? Well, mostly.

You see, although I know that much of gender is psychological, I also realize that men and women are physically different.  Not just because of their puzzle pieces but also because of hormones, brain construct, muscle and fat distribution and a myriad of other traits that have been more or less consistent throughout the history of the species.  It is true that there are many exceptions to this and it is true (to a point) that we are all individuals and genetically have an endless array of variations.  But I can acknowledge that perhaps the roles reflect the inherent strengths and weakness of each sex.  No matter how bad Ben wants it, he will never carry a baby (and have all the hormonal and emotional havoc associated with it) and no matter how hard I try, I will never thoughtlessly leave my socks in random places because that's where I needed to take them off at that moment.

Hey, it makes him feel beautiful, okay?

But to me, it seems there is something more questionable about this.  These parents are not celebrities.  Beck is a web editor and apparently Kiernan is a stay at home parent who likes to think of fun ways to force children into a lifetime of therapy.  That being said, who the hell is this "rest of the world" that they care enough to "conceal" his gender from?  Sasha?  The mailman?  The pedophile down the street?  It stands to reason that perhaps they were just looking for their 15 minutes (5 years) of fame because who the fuck cares about your kid and what genitals it has?  We aren't talking about simply giving a kid all the gender-neutral options here.  We are talking about purposely refusing to tell anyone (I am assuming the kid as well, because 3 year olds CANNOT keep a secret) because they have some bizarre fetish with androgeny.

But there's more to this story:

For years, Becks has been referring to her child, the youngest of three, as "the infant" on her personal blog. But guarding the public from her son's gender was only part of her quest to let her kid just be a kid.

Sasha dresses in clothes he likes -- be it a hand-me-downs from his sister or his brother. The big no-no's are hyper-masculine outfits like skull-print shirts. In one photo, sent to friends and family, Sasha's dressed in a shiny pink girl's swimsuit. "Children like sparkly things," says Beck. "And if someone thought Sasha was a girl because he was wearing a pink swimming costume, then what effect would that have? "

Ooooooh I can't WAIT to go and link over to her blog! I bet it is filled with all kinds of fun stories about the dog really wanting to play with catnip and the cat trying to fly like a bird.

Sasha can only dress in clothes he likes if those clothes are either gender-neutral or super girly.  No cargo pants (even though they make them for women) and no skulls or "masculine" things?  But sparkly skirts?  YES!  WONDERFUL!  That seems a little shady to me.  As if they are trying to force the issue that he select opposite-gender things.  What if he really LOVED skulls and lightening bolts and monsters?  I bet that would be a HUGE dissappointment to these dicks.

A big ass is not the kind of "cargo" these
pants are made for.

But there is something else. There are more kids in the house...who know what parts they have. So although little Sasha probably is too little to be aware of what ass hats his parents are, the older children have been in school and have likely been sworn to secrecy by their parents and been harrassed and teased for the he/she brother/sister they have. And kids LOVE having to lie and keep secrets from their friends. Nothing could be more fun for a kid than to have a dark secret to keep.

Sasha's also not short on dolls, though Barbie is also off limits. "She's banned because she's horrible," Laxton says in Cambridge interview.

On a macro level she hopes her son sets an example for other parents and makes them reconsider buying their sons trucks or forcing their daughters into tights. She's seen how those consumer trappings affect how and who kids play with in the sandbox.

Ohhhhhh. BARBIE is horrible. She may have porno boobs and weird feet, but at least she isn't running a social experiment on her kids.

And I believe that her dreams of setting an example is lost on me. I am pretty sure that you can just tell people "she is a girl" but still allow her to dress and play however the hell she wants.   Or you could just do what other parents do and name your kid something totally unisex like Pat or Terry or Beck or Kiernan.  

My point is that there are plenty of ways to encourage a kid to like and do non-gender specific things without sending him/her out into the world totally unprepared for the very realistic and extremely likely possibility that he WILL be put into a hundred different categories throughout his life and people WILL have different expectations of him based on those things.  Boo hoo hoo.  That's the way it is.

But the sandbox is just a precursor to the classroom. When Sasha turned five and headed to school, Laxton was forced to make her son's sex public. That meant Sasha would have to get used to being a boy in the eyes of his peers. Still, his mom is intervening. While the school requires different uniforms for boys and girls, Sasha wears a girl's blouse with his pants. (emphasis mine)


Oh Jesus Christ.  I am going to go see if anyone has set up a place to send donations for this kid's lifetime of therapy costs.

Read the full article here:

http://shine.yahoo.com/parenting/couple-finally-reveals-childs-gender-five-years-birth-180300388.html

Needs Work.

Ben is a General Contractor.

I know what you're thinking:  Well, that sure does explain his shitty attitude and unreliability.  But actually, he really is one of the only honest contractors I have ever met. In fact, he has a problem because he is too nice and generous and has a habit of doing extra work for no charge and because of that we are always broke.

But I don't want to talk about his (lack of) business sense.  I want to tell you about my house.

Whenever Ben finishes a big job like a kitchen remodel or building a new porch, he likes to take pictures so that he can use them in a portfolio to show potential clients.  These projects are always flawless, and clean and beautiful. 

Like this.  Although this is not actually one of his..
This is a random internet pic.

We bought an abandoned house last year really cheap.  Because Ben is a contractor, he did all the work on it to make it livable.  In fact, since our lease was running out and our landlord REFUSED to give us another month, he did all the work on the house in about 5 weeks.  He worked morning until night, 7 days a week and when we moved in, the house was ALMOST done.  There were just a bunch of little things that needed to be finished up.  Things like moulding along the floor, touch-up paint, doors needing door knobs - things like that.  And because he had essentially BUILT a house from rubble, I ignored it and figured it would get done.

The thing is, none of that shit is done, 15 months later.  Do you know why?  Because for some infuriating reason, whenever Ben does work around OUR house, he leaves it half done. 

OK.  At least I DO have countertops...But still.

Three months ago, he put a transition piece along the border between the bathroom tile floor and the slightly lower hardwood floor of the hallway.  It took him about 20 minutes to measure, cut and position the piece.  He set it there....and left it.  Now every time I walk out of the bathroom, I kick the thing and it goes flying out into the hallway.  He never bothered to nail it down.  I asked him how much time it takes to nail a piece of wood in place and he told me, "About 30 seconds...a minute if you do it right".  I told him I was getting the hammer and he assured me that he would take care of it because "you don't want the nail to stick up at all."  THIS WAS THREE MONTHS AGO!!!!!

We have a couple of spots on the drywall that were damaged somehow and are going to need touch-up paint.  Last JULY I asked him to get the paint out (because his work area is a labirynth of crap that only he has the magic map to) and I would paint it.  He told me he would take care of it.  Later that day, he applied that plaster crap to it to patch it.  He let it dry and sanded it down.  I had a pile of white dust on the floor for 4 days before I finally gave in and swept it up.  The white patch is still there.  He told me it still needs another layer...WHAT THE FUCK!!!!

I have attempted to explain to him that it offends me that when he does jobs at other people's houses he actually finishes up, then cleans and leaves the place looking like something from an HGTV room makeover show, but our house looks like someone randomly pieced it together and then forgot about it.

Another (visual) example:

We have plans to get siding in the spring.  The house is an ugly green and looks as if it hasn't been painted in at least 20 years.  Also, we kind of have to because the house is drafty and cold even with new windows and weatherproofing.  There are gaps in the old wood slats and that makes the walls super cold and covering it will make it better (or at least I am told).  While I was out the other day, Ben decided that he was going to fill in some of the worst gaps with "a little caulk".  This is what the side of our house looks like now:

Yes,I ran outside in the cold to take this picture just now.
  And we live on a corner.  This side faces the street.

SERIOUSLY, BEN?  REALLY???

"Would you EVER do that to someone else's house?"  He shrugged.

"Then WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU DO IT TO OUR HOUSE?  Don't you care AT ALL what this house looks like?" 

"Not really."  He admitted.  "It's going to get sided and then it will look really nice.  EVENTUALLY it will look good." 

Did I mention that the house was SUPPOSED to be sided and have a new roof put on over the past summer but (and I am quoting here) Ben "just didn't get around to it."  Now, maybe it's just me but I would think that a job as large as siding a house is something you PLAN, in advance.  And maybe schedule.  With some help.  (Now that I am typing this, I am concerned that my house will he half sided for the next 10 years.)

That's awesome.  Because I love having a hillbilly shack to be proud of.  Don't even get me started about the shit he keeps in our yard.

We're just one boat and a missing roof tile away from this...

And it isn't that I don't try to help or do the work myself.  He won't let me.  He says I don't know what I am doing.  Because CLEARLY, it takes a professional to stick a door knob on.

Am I over-reacting?  What do you think?

Things that should be against the law.

Dear Assholes that Start Celebrating Christmas in October:

You gotta knock this shit off.  Seriously.

First of all, the leaves are still on the trees.  We have had no snow, and we are still one major holiday away from the previously accepted "start of the holiday season".  You assholes who have your blow-up Frosty out on your lawns should be knocked out and held in a basement until the end of November and that shit is no longer ridiculous.  Why would you want to remind the rest of us of massive snowfalls that dump enough snow to MAKE an 8 foot snowman when winter around here will last until April and we have been lucky enough to avoid any major snowfall this early for the first time in recent history?  WHY? 

And the LIGHTS?  Jesus the lights!  I still haven't taken my halloween decorations down (granted I am extremely lazy and late) and you have the NERVE to put up happy candy canes and light-up reindeer so that I have to drive by every day and be reminded of how unprepared I am for the process of elbowing my way through the toy aisle at Target?  Thanks for nothing.

It isn't that I don't like Christmas.  I am not one of those idiots that Bill O'Reilly believes is waging a war on Christmas.  In fact, I desperately WANT to enjoy Christmas.  I worked in retail for 15 years and working in retail will make you realize that people turn evil in December and will put you off the holiday indefinitely.  But I do not work in retail anymore, and when I finally busted out (because working retail is a lot like being in prison), I really looked forward to celebrating Christmas like normal people, by spending a shitload of money on gifts that will be shoved into closets and stuffing my face with snacks and sweets continually from Thanksgiving until New Years Eve.

But seriously, if you start celebrating before Thanksgiving, you should go to jail.

from flickr

Starting in October, I have a rule that I follow strictly.  If I walk into a store and Christmas music is playing and it is before Thanksgiving, I walk out.  I hold to this regardless of how cute the outfit in the window is or how desperately I need milk and bread to feed my kid.  I don't care.  I will not participate in such insanity.

The city I live in has very few decent radio stations.  Maybe 5 or 6 tops that aren't christian or country or just awful.  THREE of of those have already switched to 24 hour "holiday" music, and a fourth is scheduled to switch right around the time people are defrosting their frozen turkeys.  REALLY, radio stations?  We REALLY need TWO FULL MONTHS of Little Drummer Boy?

The day that I discovered this tragedy, I was driving Lila to my mother's and flipping through my regularly programmed stations.  I stumbled upon "Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer" for less than a second before immediately hitting the next button. Lila started crying and begging me to turn it back on. 

"It's against the law,"  I said.  "It is illegal to listen to Christmas songs before Thanksgiving."  When asked what would happen if the police found out I told her that is isn't a matter of what the police would do.  It's a matter of keeping people who are bordering on crazy from turning into full-blown nut cases (I was, of course, talking about myself).

Now I am hearing that several stores (Target, Best Buy, Macy's, and WalMart to name a few) are going to open at 11pm on Thanksgiving so that people can get even more absurd deals on crap that no one really wants or needs.  AWESOME, right?  This does not indicate to me that these companies are "really super in-tune to what their beloved patrons desperately want more of."  To the contrary.  What his tells me is (1) that these companies don't give a shit about their employees, and (2) they feel that they REEEEEALLY need to have those few extra hours on a NATIONAL DAY OF THANKS to thank all of us for making them a few more dollars. 

The "Holidays" in "Happy Holidays" should not include Halloween.

In closing I would like to tell you a little story.  I am a person who loves to buy "seasonal" socks (don't you judge me!!!).  I have a pair of socks representing each month.  This whole early Christmas thing is very confusing because I already have orange socks with little pumpkins for October and yellow ones with an overflowing cornucopia for November.  I cannot start wearing the green and red ones with the gifts all over them until AT LEAST the last week of November because it would confuse all 3 of the people who occasionally notice what socks I am wearing. 

Please, for the sake of all that is holy and sacred, STOP THE INSANITY!!! I will never decorate my house with little Santas in the summer and I will not accept "Christmas in July" as a literal interpretation of when I should start my holiday shopping.  And seriously, at the rate we're going now, how far off is that?

Holy Shit! It's JUST A SCRAPE!

My kid scraped her leg yesterday.  This should not be blog worthy news but there are some things about her that you need to understand.

1. She has NEVER bled.  I am not kidding.  This kid has this weird inpenetrable skin and has never gotten a real cut.  Only bruises and bumps and scrapes that don't bleed.  Therefore:

2. Lila believes that a scrape is the most painful thing that can befall a person.  There is no way to convey to a kid her age that there are things like broken limbs, head gashes and period cramps that she may have to look forward to.

SO last night Lila was screaming like a banshee because her scrape was hurting her. 

I don't mean to sound insensitive, but I am serious when I say she cried for 3 fucking hours about a scrape.  I am not downplaying this.  See if you can spot the scrape on her little knee:

Yeah it's hard to see.  Here is a super enhanced version with scrape seeking technology so that you can actually find the thing that caused 3 hours of misery:

Yes.  It's there.  No, it isn't a shadow.  It's a little scrape.  Did I mention that she cried about it for
3 fucking hours?????

After the first hour and a half, it was clear that no amount of pain relief ointment or band aids were going to help.  Because she just insisted that it made it hurt more.  And finally I had to resort to the mean trick that I swore I would never do.  I told her that if it hurts that much, we should go to the hospital and have it removed.  The leg. 

It's funny how she calmed right down and suddenly it didn't hurt as much anymore.  In fact, it felt so much better that she wanted to run around and have some ice cream. 

I'm not ready.

(Or Lila finds a new way to make Mommy insane)


"Lila, it's time for school.  You have to get up."
I'm not ready.
"Lila you have to eat some breakfast.  We need to get going."
I'm not ready.
"It's time to get dressed.  Come on.  We need to go in ten minutes."
I'm not ready.

"You have five minutes and then it will be time to go to the doctor."
I'm not ready.
"Can you get ready?"
I'm not ready to get ready.
"In five minutes you need to be ready."
I don't think I will be ready.

"Lila, it's time for dinner. Wash your hands."
I'm not ready.
"I need you to help me set the table."
I'm not ready.
"Well, it is time NOW so ready or not, I need you help me."
I'm not ready NOW.

"Lila, look at the clock.  In 5 minutes it's time for a bath."
I'm not ready.
"Right.  When the clock says 7:15 you need to be ready."
I'm not ready.
"Ok.  That's why I am telling you to watch the clock."
I'm not ready to watch the clock.
"Ok.  Well you have 5 minutes."
I won't be ready.

"We need to get your pajamas on and get ready for bed."
I'm not ready.
"ok.  Well, We have to do things we aren't ready for sometimes."
I'm not ready.
"Lila, if you don't get your pajamas on you don't get a bedtime snack."
I WANT MY SNACK RIGHT NOW!!!
"Well, I'm not ready."

Parenting Fail?

Am I a terrible mom?  I try to stay on top of things.  I want my kid to eat well and get enough sleep and say please and thank you.  I want her to be smart and capable and independent and well-behaved.  And so far I have failed at all but the part about her being smart (assed) and independednt (3 going on 13). 

In trying to come to terms with just how to handle this problem of Lila being the sassiest little bitch on earth (yeah, I said it), the only thing I can come up with is that I am just too fucking tired to discipline her EVERY SINGLE TIME (which would literally be about 3 times per minute) that she does something that pisses me off. 

My kid yells at me.  She throws things and she refuses to eat.  Then she throws a huge asshole fit about the fact that she doesn't get any snacks because she refused to eat what I put in front of her (No, I don't give in and she still does not GET it). She refuses to poop on the toilet still and when I refused to buy any more pull ups, she held it for 4 days until it was so painful for her (even with the laxative) that she will probably never want to shit on the toilet again (thanks to the doctor for that award-winning advice).  She acts like an animal when we go to a store.  She manipulates me by crying and telling me she hates me (remind you, she is not a teenager - she's 3). 

In between the 3 minute hugs and the 2 and a half moments of happiness is all this SHIT.

I am at my wits end.  And all I can do is blog about it. 

Fucking kid.

Lila ruins everything

They say that imitation is the highest form of flattery.  Tell that to any mother of a preschooler and she'll tell you that it actually destroys worlds.

Every mom wants to share the things she loves with her children.  For example, a favorite song or book or movie. 

I used to love Joan Jett.  I have seen her in concert a few times and always thought of "I Love Rock and Roll" as the summation of my childhood (I was a strange kid).

Lila also loves that song.  In fact, she loves it so much that when I played the CD one time while driving her to the sitter, she "rocked out" through the whole song, then merrily shouted, "AGAIN!"  By the third time, she was singing along to the chorus and "OOOOOW"-ing in that high-pitched voice of hers.  Luckily, it only took 3 times to get where we were going.

But it didn't stop there.  She needed it every time we got into the car.  Some time around the 218th time in a row I heard it (and nothing else) while driving, I told her that I forgot the disc in the house.  A full-on heartbreak ensued and she cried the entire trip to the grocery store and back.  And even though I could have simply put it on because I was obviously lying, I didn't want her to know I was lying and so instead I endured her tears and whining.

Needless to say, I cringe when I hear it now. 

She did the same to my favorite color, which used to be purple.  Lila LOVES purple.  And after painting her room purple, and getting her purple sheets, a purple rug, purple curtains, a purple bookcase and pretty much any toy that contains purple in it, she started to insist on wearing something purple every single day.  We have A LOT of purple socks and underwear and she would only wear one pair of shoes (can you guess what they look like) every day if I would let her.

She has done this with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, which was my favorite Disney movie.  I hate it now.  This happened with Tom and Jerry cartoons.  It happened with a children's book I kept around BEFORE I EVER EVEN THOUGHT I MIGHT HAVE A KID, Ferdinand the Bull, which Lila wore out in a matter of days.  It happens with foods, with games (I was thrilled the FIRST time she wanted to play Candyland.  The 7,586th time?  Not so much.). 

Because preschoolers are nothing if not obsessive.



(Image from  http://www.last.fm/music/Joan+Jett/+images/5113011)

Its' a "Fuck You" Friday!

There are no where near enough angry link ups out there. 

I am not going to sit here and pretend I have any idea how to do a link up or whatever, but I highly recommend that on Fridays, you take about 5 minutes and scroll a little note about something that happened this week and say to it "Fuck you...I'm on to my weekend."  I also want to say that I KNOW it's Thursday. But I really hope that you guys will join in because it's nothing if not totally liberating!  And if you want to leave a link to your blog saying that you did it (or are going to do it) in the comments section, please do.  OR do it on facebook. 




Fuck You Fridays photo courtesy of Johnny Cash.


Today's Fuck You Friday has to do with an old boyfriend turned buddy who I gave up on as a human being this past week.

Joe was one of those guys who I fell in love with when I was like 13 years old even though he was like 18 at the time.  He ignored me back then but as soon as I turned 18 we got together and did that whole "You're my soul mate" thing until he finally told me like 5 months later that: a) he had an 18 month old son by his last girlfriend and b) that he was going to go back to her so I should forget he ever existed.

Now, at 18 I am pretty stupid. I admit as much.  I would say that emotionally I definitely rode the short bus.  So when I run into him randomly, like, 9 times in the following 2 weeks, I am convinced that "the universe is obviously telling me something" so I hold my breath and just "know he'll come back to me."  I go on with my life and date (a billion) other guys but I always believe that some day we'd randomly meet up at some fruit stand in Morrocco just like they do in old movies and we'd fall in love and live happily ever after.  I told you I was a fucking idiot. 

A few years pass and we meet up again.  This time he claims he has left that bitch for good and did all the things he was supposed to do to keep contact with his kid and minimum drama with her (custody arrangements and all that).  So I think "now's the time!  We'll be together forever," right?  WRONG.  First he fucked some awful fat girl who I THINK is my friend but turns out to be a whore.  Then he tells me about how there's this "young chick" at his work who keeps (and I quote) "sticking her ass in my face".  I tell him he's an asshole and think that if I avoid him for a few days to prove how angry I am he will feel bad and come running back.  It doesn't work.

When I try to call him a week later, the phone number is disconnected.  I go to his apartment and it's empty. I stop by his work and it turns out he quit.  That fucker vanished into thin air. 

But dumb me, I run into him again and again and every time he professes his undying love to me and then would end up going back to the girlfriend with the ass gone wild.  At one point, he moves into my apartment for a few weeks and when the larger apartement downstairs opens up, he tells me to tell the landlord we're going to take it.  He never shows up to give the landlord the security deposit and again disappears into thin air.

Around this time I become aware that he is seriously using drugs.  Bad drugs. Crack, Heroin, Meth.  I feel so sad and helpless to do anything for him.  Soon after this, I move to Arizona, start intensive psychotherapy and begin to understand just how fucked up the whole situation actually is.  I plan a trip back to Syracuse and a week before my trip he magically finds me on the internet.  He tells me he is fresh out of rehab and would love to see me when I come home. I tell him that's awesome since I happen to have some things to tell him!  I go to see him and tell him that he's an asshole for treating me like some stop-gap for half of my life, and that he can basically go fuck himself.  I don't give him a chance to respond.  I drive away feeling like I did the right thing.

Three years later I move back.  I am in Wal Mart (of all God-awful places) in my sweats and I run into him.  He looks awful but tells me he's been clean since the last time I saw him.  He still looks at me the way he used to and I realize now why I always fell for his bullshit.  I try to make small talk and he lays into me about how much I hurt his feelings that day and how he hasn't been able to get me out of his head since then.

I fucking feel bad for some reason.  But I am honest.  I have a family now.  I have a guy who is everything he never was.  I would never leave them and I would never take him back.  He is okay with this.  I tell him to keep in touch and we do on the Facebook.

One day he wants to see me and we meet for coffee and he looks like total shit.  I suspect he's using agian but he swears he's not and he tells me about his latest girlfriend and how she got pregnant on purpose and he just "isn't feeling it" and so they ended it amicably but now he is seeing a new girl.  He tells me she's 21, which is young because he's almost 40.  I laugh and offer him my advice which I know he won't follow. But I tell him the truth.  He's an idiot.  He needs to get his shit together and stop hooking up with dumb chicks and making babies.  I am brutally honest and it makes him irritated with me. There is no weirdness.  No sexual tension.  We are friends and I am fine with this.

A few weeks later I find out from a mutual friend that he OD'd on something or other and was in the hospital for a few days and is now going to rehab.  I feel awful.  Could I have helped him?  Was he trying to kill himself?  He must have been so sad!  Why wasn't I more understanding?  Why do I always have to tell people exactly what I think?

When he gets out I call him and I see him and he tells me that him and his girlfriend are trying to have a baby.  That her parents are okay with his age, which prompts me to comment on her being 21.  He tells me she's 18.  And that they're in love and they're going to get married.

I laugh.  "Really?" I say.  Because obviously LOVE is all that matters.  I tell him that he is in NO POSITION to be making this kind of decision and that no child should have to suffer with a young and obviously insane mother and a junky father.  He tells me he is in love.  I tell him that he already has 3 kids by 3 different women and that never worked out to keep them together.  He tells me he's in love.  I tell him that if he really loves her he would let this fresh out of high school child go out and figure things out and not try to tie her down with a fucking kid because after all, he IS the adult.  He tells me he's in love.  I tell him his son is a year older than his girlfriend.  He tells me he's in love.

He doesn't get it.  He refuses to even acknowledge that the facts are correct.  He just keeps telling me that he is in love with her and wants to marry her.  I get mad.  Then he makes a stupid statement.  He says "I am going to marry her.  So speak now or forever hold your peace."  And it fucking hits me.

He wants me to beg him not to do it.  Not just because it's stupid but he wants me to beg him to be with ME!  HAH!  I laugh.  Is he fucking insane?  Is he seriously fucked up?  I know the answer is yes.

So I tell him that he's on his own.  I refuse to worry about him anymore.  He obviously has no concern for himself and has no interest in functioning like a normal person.  I tell him to knock himself out: go smoke some crack, knock up some 12 year olds, and sleep under a fucking bridge.  I tell him that I am done and that I was fucking stupid to think that we could be friends because the old pattern of "I beg for you, you choose someone else" is like a drug in itself for him.  He thought I would fall right back into that role.

But the truth is that when I saw how fucked up and ugly the drugs and misery he chooses has made him, I was no longer even remotely interested.  That part of me who felt anything like a lover to him is dead and buried.  I only wanted him to be okay in the way that I would want anyone I have known for (I can't believe I am going to say this) 20 years to be okay.  I want him to choose fucking happiness.  To make a decision that isn't completely fucking self destructive.  But he thinks I still want to fuck him. 

And for that, Joe- for that I say a big, long-time-coming

FUCK YOU!!!

Nickjr.com - Destroyer of Lives.

First off, I need to note that this is my 100th post!!!I feel like someone should throw me a party or something but that's pretty unlikely.  Anyhow...onto the real post:

I am pretty sure that if I had put a computer in front of Lila when she was 6 days old, she would have known exactly what to do with that mouse. 

Kids today seem to crown knowing how to make technology work and I suppose that's wonderful because it means that they can learn so much so quickly, and also make me feel like an idiot (much the way I did to my parents when they couldn't figure out how to leave an outgoing message on the answering machine).  And I have no problem with this.  I actually LOVE to set Lila up in front of my laptop and let her poke around the Nick Jr or Sprout online websites.  It gives me time to think without having to entertain her and aside from the occasional random "look what I did!", she leaves me alone!  She can't spell so I know she can't go far and we have talked about the buttons she can click and the ones she cannot.

But as of Friday, I no longer have a laptop.  And do you want to know why?

Because NickJr.com is fucking evil.



I bet this lady works at NickJr.com.

 The first time my computer burned out, Lila was playing on NickJr.com and started crying because it wouldn't load and then the screen went black.  It turned out that the hard drive needed to be replaced.  Luckily, Ben's uncle hoards computer parts and I only had to wait for about 2 months for him to get around to replacing the hard drive for me at no cost.  At that time, I just chalked it up to a shitty hard drive and moved on.  That was roughly 3 months ago.  And here I am again, working on Ben's shitty, 10 year old, extremely SLLLLOOOOWWW (it took me a full minute to see that last word show up) computer because my computer has gone black again.

And what the hell was going on when it fizzled out?  Lila was playing on motherfucking NickJe.com again.

I was in the same room.  I was checking on her.  And the volume was on so I know for a fact that she was just playing some stupid Dora Dress Up game.   She was not doing anything weird and suddenly the screen went all wacky.  And when I tried to restart it, it stayed wacky.

This little bitch is out to
destroy my blog!

So...needless to say, that is why I am not visiting and commenting and posting and being my usual web-addicted self.  I get really depressed when I can't blog and obsessively check my Facebook for interactions because I live in my imaginary online world and this is seriously adding stress to an already precarious situation.

I have no idea what I am going to do about this as I don't have the cash to fix it and I certainly can't afford to buy a new one. 

I fear that my head is going to explode because I have no outlet for the dumb shit that happens throughout my (truly lame) days.

I think I should just send the bill to NickJr.com.  Anyone have an address? 

Yeah...I feel like that. 

(all these images are from random google search. Not mine.  Just FYI)

Annoying. (Or what it's like to be three)

"Mommy.  Mommy.  Mommy.  Mommy.  MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMYMOMMYMOMMYMOMMYMOMMY!"

She isn't paying attention.  Daddy keeps on talking to her but I need her NOW! 

"Mommy Mommy MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY!!!!"

I don't want to hang on a minute.  I don't want to wait until she's finished talking.  I have to tell her something REALLY REALLY REALLY important!  I have to tell her NOW!  I have to tell her right this minute because I really really have to tell her!

"MOM-MY.  MOM-MY!"  "MOOOOM-MY!"
Maybe if I just whine a little bit, "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMY!" But not too much because then she won't let me tell her.  I'll just make the sad face too.  "MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMY!"

Um...She's looking at me now. I want to tell her something but what is it? She stopped talking and she's waiting for me to tell her what.  I have to tell her something and I want her to know that....hmmm......Look!  There's my Strawberry Shortcake Doll.  I'm going to go over and get it. 

"I like Strawberry Shortcake, Mommy!"

........................................................................

From the prompt found here:

Saturday Shitlist

I spent a lot of time tooling around the interwebs this week and thanks to #1, I really found a minimal amount of things to put on the list this week.  Feel free to add your own.  I will even give you a grade for participation!

1. The Cold Virus or the Flu, whatever the hell this shit is.  It LOOKS like a cold- all coughs and sneezes, but it FEELS like the Flu, in that I am so exhausted and miserable that I called in sick to work and haven't left the house since Tuesday. 

2. Harry Hunters.  Jesus H. Christ on a crutch! Have you seen these assholes?  (If not, read this )
Yeah, you're going to find Prince fucking Harry and marry him by stalking him for several weeks before his brother's wedding.  I am sure he'd be thrilled to marry some slutty American chick who has a stash of postcards of him and his brother rubber banded together and shoved in her bra. 

I think Harry said it best:

Good luck ladydouches.

3. The entire world.  Has everyone gone fucking crazy?  Because I thought that crazy was my domain.

Hot off the runway for Summer '11.

4. My local community health center.  For adding an large dollop of stress onto my already thoroughly thinly stretched finances and still not managing to cure me.  It's bad enough that I don't have health insurance and have to sit in the ghetto-ass waiting room but then you can't even get my paperwork right so I'm not billed $400 for a Thyroid test that I only got because you told me it was going to cost "next to nothing"?  AND you can't find the results!  FUCK YOU ASSHOLES!!!

5. Thomas the Tank Engine.  Wait a second!  I LOVE the NORMAL Thomas.  The simplicity of narrating a bunch of model trains around a neat little model city.  And two of my FAVORITE people on earth narrated!  FANTASTIC!  What I'm talking about is this bullshit computer animated, the trains all talk and have different voices bullshit.  Now it's just another lame cartoon.  And nothing even blows up!

And there was this.  Now it's a lame cartoon.

5. Old Navy's new annoying "Layer Player" bullshit commercial.  As I mentioned above, I have been sick in the house for several days and I don't have cable.  So on my 6 or so channels, I have seen this fucking commercial about 4,793 times.  I have broken down the dance moves in my mind.  They are playing it one every channel during every show.  No, really.  I refuse to embed it on my blog, but here's the link if you want to torture yourself with it:  LINKY

6. The Lottery Mega Millions $312 Million Jackpot.  I don't play the lottery because I am the unluckiest person I know.  But Ben did play and I would have been happy if he matched like 2 of the 6 numbers.  He played 10 different quick-picks.  You know how many of the final 6 numbers he had TOTAL on all his plays?  ONE.

The other reason I don't play the "numbers".
(If you don't get this one, you're not a Lostie)

7. Which reminds me, I am STILL FUCKING PISSED about the ending of Lost. 

Sunday Shitlist

I meant to post this yesterday, what with Sunday being some kind of special day for the Catholics or whatever, but I am posting it now so instead of Saturday Shitlist (which I hope to make a weekly thing) I am going to have a Sunday Shitlist of all the thing that have made it onto my list this week.

In no particular order:

1. Kids' haircut places. Can someone (a-hem...BEN) explain to me why we keep taking her to this place? First off, we waited for OVER AN HOUR when there was literally two kids ahead of us and there were at least 4 employees randomly milling about the place. They have these terrifying mascots that are hair implements come to life (an animated blow dryer? Really?) and show these characters in cartoons that Lila doesn't even watch because they're so lame. Oh, and lest I forget that it also cost me $22 with a tip and they didn't even wash or blow dry her hair. Why didn't we just go to Supercuts?

2.  Twitter. Everyone is on Twitter.  Everyone needs to be on Twitter.  So then why is the only interesting thing I have come across on Twitter in the last week when I was actually TRYING to get into Twitter coming from OMGFacts?  Seriously.  I am over Twitter.  Even Charlie Sheen isn't interesting on Twitter anymore.
3. The Cold Virus. I am extremely lucky that my kid doesn't get sick all that often. But when she does, she is the most miserable asshole on the planet. She refuses to sleep (or even sit still) and whines because she doesn't feel like playing and I can't do anything but sit on front of her and beg her to stop whining because the sound of it the inside of my head (and my womb) shrivel up.

4. The Irish. YES! We all get it. You're Irish. Well, no. You're not. You're ancestors were Irish. You're a dumb drunk! With a gigantic Irish-American population, Syracuse NY does not celebrate Saint Patrick's Day. Syracuse celebrates Saint Patrick's WEEK. And the official Thursday tide of green beer was washed from the sidewalks JUST IN TIME for the stupid NCAA tournament to start. I apologize to all of you who love the Irish and college basketball, but I fucking hate drunks. Particularly when they are blowing off fireworks outside the bar around the corner from my house or are running out into the street yelling and puking.

5. "Anonymous" comments. Please don't tell me that all my frustration "just sounds like bad parenting". It is. I am a terrible parent sometimes and I blog about it because I care. HOWEVER, because I am SURE you either have no children, or are one of those part-time dads (Oh, I KNOW YOU'RE MALE) who left before the real fun started, I think you are blind to the reality of being the "Mommy". Because kids save ALL THE BULLSHIT for the Mommy, no matter how fucking awesome she is.

6. Depression. I don't want to get into it, but Depression deserves to be on the shitlist for a variety of reasons.

7. Snack foods that are obviously laced with Angel Dust. Why the hell else would my kid turn into a raging maniac after polishing off a pack (containing, like, 4) Alvin and the Chipmunks "fruit snacks". You should just call them "meth snacks" because I am convinced that's what they are.

8. Boobs. No one told me that when I got fat enough for my boobs to grow that I would need to sleep with a pillow propped under them if I was a side sleeper. And do you guys know what happens when you wake up and you've been laying on your side for hours with no pillow? Pain. Like having barbels hanging from your armpits, draped across your body.  And the stifness in your breastbone like it has been folded in half.  Oh, this also happens with belly fat. Its fucking ridiculous and since I don't believe in diets I guess I need to figure something out.

9.  THIS WHOLE THING:   



Oh, Barry.  What happened to what we had?




 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Scream Queen

"Mommy has a headache.  Mommy is REALLY REALLY TIRED and has a headache because I had the WORST day at work.  Let's get your coat on and go home."

Lila just ignored me.  My mother tried.  "Lila, you can come back and play with your (annoying) toy tomorrow.  I will leave it here and it will be here when you come here in the morning."  Nothing.

"Lila.  It is TIME TO GO!" 

That was when the screaming started.  Lila is a gifted screamer.  She started practicing about a week out of the womb and has truly perfected the art of the ear-busting, brain-sterilizing, skull eradicating scream.  Seriously.  When Charlie Sheen said that whole thing about mind-melting, exploded bodies or whatever, I thought of my kid screaming. 

Under normal circumstances, her scream will give a normal, healthy person an aneurysm.  But when you already HAVE a headache it turns it into the most painful, awful blinding kind of headache and you just want to die. 

Lila continued the screaming into the car.  She did it for the entirety of the 15 minute ride home.  I was pretty sure at one point that I blacked out because I have no idea how I got to the exit ramp, but there I was, alive and gripping the steering wheel for dear life at the red light. 

Lila screamed as we pulled into the driveway and then proceeded to continue screaming and then started flailing around as I began to undo her seat belt thingy.  I threatened to leave her in the car and totally saw myself coming out in the morning to a nice sleeping happy kid, but I knew that my neighbors would TOTALLY call Child Protective Services because they would have heard the screaming and thought that my kid's skin was being peeled off by that guy in Silence of the Lambs. 

So I un-buckled her and yanked her out of the car and as she walked into the house she began to calm down.  As she plodded up the steps behind me, she was breathing heavy and whining that she was tired.  And when we walked in the door, she saw her Daddy.  Her eyes lit up.  She put a big smile on her face and ran to him and yelled, "DAAADDDDYYYY!!! I AM SOOOOO HAPPY TO SEE YOU!!!"

"Thanks so much for that." I said to no one in particular.

SHIT...maybe next year.

Well, once again I have destroyed my chances of winning Mother of the Year. 

I really hate my days off work during the week.  Since I work part time at the gigantic downtown library and they don't have the budget to hire full time people, I have every Tuesday and Wednesday off of work.  Tuesdays are nice because the Kid goes to preschool in the morning until about 11:30 and it gives me time to get dressed and plan something for the rest of the day to occupy her so that she doesn't just whine and harass me all day.  Yesterday we hit the Barnes & Noble where she played with the trains (way more fun that the set we have at home for some reason), then played on the stage (she sang and danced for no one in particular), and then we went home where Netflix had sent us Lilo and Stitch to keep us occupied for much of the afternoon.  This also afforded me a "relax" time on the couch (go ahead, applaud my fantastic ulterior motives) and after that we only had about an hour before Daddy came home to entertain her while I made dinner.

But Wednesdays are always another story.  Sometimes, Lila cries to go to Grandma's (where she spends the days when I work) and I have NO PROBLEM calling my mother and letting Lila plead with her to let her come over.  But most days, it is up to me to make magic for her. 

Luckily, Wednesday morning is story time at the local branch library.  Unfortunately it's at 10:00 which for some reason seems to come too early for us.  But Lila loves the storytime.  It's a small affair with 3 to 5 kids at a time and a wonderful older childrens' librarian who Lila is attached to.  You see, we used to live on the same block, right up the street, and so last year we spent A LOT of time taking walks to the library and hanging around in there.  But since we moved, it isn't really walking distance and so we need to take a car rind and in the winter that means a little longer to prepare.

Since Lila is going through her phase of freaking out any time I tell her its time to do anything, I had to warn her a few weeks ago that if she ever threw a fit when we were getting ready to go anywhere, we simply would not go.  But since I also desperately NEED to take her to storytime in order to have a little time to space out, I really need to make it happen.

Well, today I told Lila I the plan.  "I am going to go upstairs to get showered and dressed.  You need to play nicely for about 15 minutes and then you will be getting dressed, cleaned up, and ready to go to storytime."  She didn't throw a fit.  She said "okay".  So far so good. 

I went upstairs to get my clothes together and Lila came up behind me and went into her room to play.  This is also good because then I can listen while I shower.  I heard her getting frustrated with something and when I went in she told me she needed some help getting her notebook and pen from under a stack of coloring books.  "I am pretty sure you can do this yourself," I said, but I took the notebook and pen out and she went to put it on her little princess table.  I walked out and took my little stack of clothes into the bathroom. 

I heard more sounds of frustration (namely, the notebook being thrown on the floor and a grunt).  I went back in, now half undressed.  "What's the problem Lila?"

"I can't make my pen work..."  OK.  I went and hunted for another pen.  "Problem solved.  Give me 10 minutes."

Then I heard a loud crash and a whiny scream.  Lila had overturned the table in her room and started a mini fit.  I told her to take a deep breath.  She did.  Then I asked her to show me what the problem was. She started yelling at me that she didn't want any help from me.  "Fine," I said.  I am getting in the shower.  Please play good for like 5 minutes and I will help you when I get out." 

Somehow, this was too much for her and she threw herself onto the floor screaming.  I attempted to EXPLAIN that story time is starting at 10:00 and if she wants to go, I have to get into the shower NOW.  "Play with something else for 3 minutes, and then we can talk.  She continued to scream and yell at me telling me that she doesn't WANT to play with anything else and that she needs me to fix her table NOW".

I told her I was giving her ONE MORE CHANCE to knock that shit off and then we weren't going.  At that, I turned to walk out of her room and got into the shower.  I heard her stomping the ground and screaming.  I soaped up as quickly as I could while she continued to cry and as I did this I felt my blood begin go boil. "OK.  YOU WANT TO BE A HUGE BRAT TODAY?  NOW WE DON'T GO TO STORY TIME."

At this, her tone changed and she started the truly upset broken-hearted crying.  But FUCK HER.  I tried to be nice.  Why the hell was I going to take a kid who is clearly just being an asshole to storytime?  She was not throwing a fit because she wanted me to hang out with her.  She was throwing a fit because she has a temper and even though I tried to talk her through it she threw a fit anyway. 

As she continued to cry, I yelled at her that she OBVIOUSLY had decided that staying home and breaking her stuff was much more fun than storytime and so she should go ahead and break all of her stuff so that I can throw it away and she won't have any toys to get mad about anymore.

And I yelled and yelled and yelled and she just kept on crying and telling me that I am a Mean Mommy.  And then I started being a real asshole.  "Boo Hoo Hoo..." I said.  "I am being a brat and now I can't have what I want so I am going to be a bigger brat...BOO HOO HOOO!!!"  I was mocking my 3-year-old child. 

I admit, looking at that now, it was probably not nice to do.  It was childish.  I am the adult, right?  I am supposed to remain composed and calm, right?  So why does my kid have the ability to make me fucking insane to the point of wanting to strangle her?  I actually had to go into my bedroom, shut the door, and scream into a pillow until my throat started to hurt so that I didn't totally lose it.  I considered calling her father and telling him to come home so that I didn't traumatize her emotionally for life.

Then I started to feel guilty because I KNOW that my behavior is no more acceptable than hers, and I AM NOT THREE.  I started to think that I am setting a shitty example and now she is going to think it's okay to be an asshole to someone when they are upset. 

About 20 seconds later, Lila came in with a pack of candy that she got from her Valentine's Day party at school, as if NOTHING EVER HAPPENED and asked me to open it.  I said, "You know we're not going to storytime right?"  "Yeeeaaaah." she said sadly. 

"And you know that it's because you threw a fit for no good reason, right?"  "Yeeeaaah." she said. 

"Then why would you be allowed to have a candy treat when 5 minutes ago you were acting like a total brat?" I asked her, trying to be the stern Mommy.  She gave it to me and I told her we were going to save that for later. 

Then she said, "I want to tell you something very important."
 
"Oh yeah?"  I said.  "What's that?"

"I'm really sorry that I made you mad and sad." She said matter-of-factly.  "You don't have to take me to storytime when I'm being bad."

And that's when I realized that I have a really fucking good kid, and that as a mother, I totally do not deserve her.

Starving for Newtons

I've been told it's just her age.  But I swear to God, every regular routine part of every single day is a huge dramatic nightmare for Lila and she makes all of it pure hell for me.

We eat dinner together every night.  I am a big fan of "family dinner time" so I insist that Ben be home from work and we all sit together at the table WITHOUT the TV on and talk.  I gave up a LONG time ago on eating foods that Lila is unlikely to eat.  So we rarely have steak or roasts or basically ANY grown up food because I just know that she will refuse to eat it and additionally make a big deal about the fact that she can't eat Popsicles for dinner.  And since I am no short-order cook, I only make one meal per night and so we eat a lot of hamburgers and pizza and tacos.  I try to make "healthier choices" when it comes to these things and so we use lean meat and whole grain and that kind of thing. 

In most families, this is enough and the kids generally shut up and partake in the dinners, but not in my house.  Not for the queen.  Lila just refuses to eat.  She just will not eat.  At least not what we are eating and not when we do.  Lila's entire MO for the last couple of months, is to take two bites of dinner then begin to play.  Usually we "suggest" that she eat some more and she says she will after she takes a break.  But she doesn't.  And she starts to do annoying things like bang her silverware or make obnoxious noises.  After a few minutes we tell her to either eat or get down.  She always gets down. 


It's the four food groups.

As I am sure you can guess, as soon as we clean the table off, Lila asks for a snack.  At first we tried giving her a " food you didn't finish at dinner" snack but this only caused convulsion-style tantrums so we stopped.  We began simply telling her that if she got down from the table without eating her dinner she could not have a snack.  Although this seems like a perfectly reasonable statement it fills me with fear and dread.  Because inevitably, as we are lying in bed and I close her story book for the night, she tells me she's hungry.  Then she can't go to sleep because she's too hungry and she ends up crying until well into the night until either we give her a snack or we drink ourselves unconscious.  I am not exaggerating when I say that she has cried in her room from 8:30 until close to 2 am until I finally gave in and brought her a cereal bar. 

We have tried allowing her to eat her dinner later, if she chooses.  She refuses, saying that at bedtime you can only eat snacks and not dinner.  I have tried offering her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or carrots and dip for snacks so that she can get some nutrition but then I realized that she was just holding out for these things.  Then I began trying to give her these things at dinner time, just to end the hassle of it all and GUESS WHAT???? She suddenly didn't like them anymore. 

I will not battle with her over eating.  She does not understand why she can't skip dinner and just eat 8 Fig Newtons at bedtime every night.  This is a battle of wills, and the only way to win the battle of wills with a 3 year old is to not let her know it's a battle.  I just tell her I really don't care if she's hungry.  She can eat what I give her or not at all.  And although I say these things, I have to admit that when she turns into a total asshole because she's hungry after refusing to eat lunch and then she refuses to eat anything other than whatever random food item she deems necessary at that moment (it Alvin and the Chipmunks gummy snacks, today) I just send her to her room until she can chill the fuck out and act like a human child again.  Sometimes I can get her to eat normal food, sometimes I can't.  Usually, I compromise on a bowl of cereal or yogurt or something and about half the time, she still refuses to eat it, but I still feel like she holds out for these snack foods that she likes better than actual meals.  It's not the fact that she only wants to eat a few foods.  Its the fact that the few foods she wants to eat are cookies, chips, and ice cream.

I know the old adage that a healthy kid will not starve herself.  But no one ever says she won't maker her mother completely insane in her quest to only eat the 3 items she wants to eat so that she can prove who is in charge.