Because Goldfish = Death and a Velvet Elvis.

I feel like 4 is too young to have to have the "everything living will die" talk with my kid. I mean, seriously, there will be plenty of time for her to learn that nothing is permanent and that even her parents will someday die.

So that is why I refuse to allow her to have a goldfish. Because with the rare exception of the one that lives to be 13 years old (my friend had one), they basically live for a couple of weeks and then the whole family has to give a eulogy standing around the toilet and sending little fluffy off to the eternal abyss (also known as the municipal sewer system).

But you gotta love dads. Yesterday, Ben took Lila to the Wal-Mart looking for undershirts and for some reason came home with a little fish tank and 2 gold fish (and also hot pink rocks and a glow in the dark plastic plant). Lila had already named her fish (Orange Fish and Star Fish) and they set the tank up. Ben THEN thought it would be a great idea to let her have the fish in her room.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING???" I casually whispered to him while Lila sat completely hypnotized by her new creatures. "They're just goldfish!" He replied. That was when I had to pull him into another room and let him know that I was not going to be the one explaining what happened to the fish when Lila finds them belly up in the water first thing in the morning.

"You see," I explained. "I don't want to have the death talk at all yet. But at least if you had suggested we keep the fish in the kitchen or living room, we would have had the advantage of finding the dead fish first and making up some story about how he missed his mom and went home after we disposed of him without her knowledge." He looked at me like I was presenting an argument for the possibility of Ancient Aliens.

"Whatever," I say. "In a week or two when you hear that blood curdling scream at 5:00 in the morning, YOU are going to go and deal with it. Not me."

He shook his head. "She'll be fine.

It's only a matter of time...

About an hour later, I am in the kitchen and Lila goes upstairs to "check on her fish" and I hear a frantic "MOMMY! DADDY! COME QUICK!"

"Here we go," I tell Ben as we go upstairs preparing for the worst.

"My fish aren't moving." I look. They're just sitting there. But they're not floating. "They're sleeping," I tell her. Then they start swimming normally. I nudge Ben. "As long as they're not floating on the top sideways, they're not dead," he gently explains. This does absolutely NOTHING to help the situation. She calls us (and of course, I send him) 6 more times before bedtime.

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

And now for the usual Sunday fare:

Sunday Stealing: The 99'er Meme: Part 3

Cheers to all of us thieves!

51) Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

Revenge is a dish best served cold, and all that shit.

52) What is your astrological sign?

Realist

53) Do you save money for anything? What?
I try to save enough for booze but sometimes there are just too many bills.

54) What's the last thing you purchased?

Cheap art for my living room.

I should have just ordered this.

55) Have you ever had a relationship that you realized was lust not love?
Pretty much all of them up until this one. And now we have the opposite problem.

56) In a relationship?
I'm in something much, much worse.

57) How many relationships have you had?
HA! How long are we talking? Because if we don't put a minimum time qualification, then I would say HUNDREDS.

58) What do you want to tell us about your day?
That if I get through it without slapping anyone then it will have been a success.

59) Where were you yesterday?
I spent a lot of time running around looking for shoe inserts. Don't ask.

60) Is there anything interesting within 10 feet of you?
With a 4 year old, there tends to be a WHOLE LOT of crap all around me, all the time. But interesting? Not really.

61) Are you wearing socks right now?
Yes. And underwear.

62) What's your favorite animal?
Sloth. I totally relate.

Dear Suicidal Sloth: Please don't do it! Life is worth living!

63) What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?
Well, there's always sex.

64) Where is your best friend?
Probably home.

65) How did you end your last relationship end?

The same way all my past relationships ended, with betrayal and then revenge.

66) What is your heritage?
I actually did a bunch of genealogy research last summer only to find that I come from a long line of boring Italians and drunk poles.

67) What were you doing last night at 12 AM?
Watching SNL.

68) What's new?
If there was anything I would have blogged about it.

69) What is the key to seduction?
Show your boobs. That always works.

70) What was the weirdest thing that happened to you this week??
My kid didn't cause me to regret being alive.

71) You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?
I have a government job which means that it is extremely unlikely that I would get fired for lateness. Or anything else.  Suck it boss!

72) You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?
Well, first I punch that asshole doctor for not catching whatever it is sooner.  Then I pretty much completely lose my mind with anxiety and spend my remaining days in a mental hospital.

73) You can only have one of these things: trust or love.
I read somewhere that you can trust someone you don't love, but you can't love someone you don't trust. That being said, I choose trust. Love is nothing but trouble.

74) What's a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?
Short Dick Man by 20 fingers (10 points if you remember that one).

75) Who has your cell phone number (other than family)?

Apparently a bunch of debt collectors. Lucky me!

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?

Two parts Sunday Stealing, one part Other Shit.

First, let me say that I love my blog time.  For me it is unwind time, and when I have had a rough day, sometimes it's just what I need.

About 2 hours ago, I was upstairs putting away laundry and Ben was vacuuming.  Suddenly I hear this awful "frhhoooonnnnk" sound followed immediately by a crash and Ben yelling OH NO!  Lila starts screaming and I sprint downstairs to find Ben holding her and Lila holding her head.  It seems that Lila was looking for something under the couch AT THE SAME TIME that Ben was vacuuming under the couch (!!!!???!!!!).  Her hair got caught in the vacuum (as any sane and remotely sensible parent would assume would happen if a girls head gets close to the vacuum cleaner)and she was completely traumatized (as would be expected from a 4 year old that pretty much hates the vacuum because it attempted to eat her head).   Needless to say, I didn't have to demand that he apologize for that one.  Why is safety never a consideration for some fathers?

Ours is not nearly as friendly as the Noo Noo.

Aaaanywhooo....Everyone is alright but there was a HUGE chunk of hair pulled out and it was all tangled into her hair and she screamed while I tried to untangle it because she was afraid she was going to be bald. 

Subsequently, the meatloaf Ben was cooking spilled in the oven and the smoke detectors went off for like 15 minutes (because there's literally one in every single room of our small (small) house, they're all wired to go off at the same time, and they're electrical and you can't just pull a battery out of one and be done with it).  Lila screamed all through that as well.  And since it's like 4 degrees outside, we couldn't just step out on the porch to avoid it all. 

And before you all point out the obvious, yes, I realize that he vacuumed AND cooked on the same day.  But seriously?  You let your kid and the vacuum get that close?  Jesus.

FUN FUN!!

Moving on...I skipped last week's Sunday Stealing and since this was a two parter, you get double the fun.  Plus I know you just LOOOOVE hearing my stupid answers. 
Sunday Stealing: The Never Ending Meme, Part One

Cheers to all of us thieves!

1. Song that always makes you sad?
Anything by Justin Bieber.  It isn't sadness, exactly...more of a murderous rage that makes me feel like I need to kill small animals...

2. Last thing you bought?
Prescription sedatives.  Ahhhh....sweet relief.

3. Last person you argued with?
There are only 2 possibilities.  Ben or Lila.  And Lila had a rough day.  So you do the math.

4. Do you put butter before putting the peanut butter on?
WHAT???  I am not into food mixing like that.  Everyone knows that there is only one thing you are allowed to spread on bread with peanut butter.  Chocolate sauce.

5. One of your stuffed animals’ names as a kid?
Like I remember that shit.  (actually I had a monkey that my mom tells me was called Mahnu, because I couldn't say monkey.  And that I used to refer to any older man with a beard as Mahnu too.) 

6. Did you ever at one time own a Barenaked Ladies CD?
Do I look like an asshole?  Actually they are from these parts and I think it's hilarious that they have a children's cd out. 

7. Favorite day of the week?
Tuesday.  I have the day off work, and Lila goes to the sitter.

8. Favorite sundae topping?
Peanut Butter and Hot Fudge.  Together. 

9. Did you take piano lessons?
I wanted to but since my mother was insane, that never happened.  Instead I learned to play terrible 80s ballads on my Casio keyboard.

Go on, act like you didn't have one...

10. Most frequent song played?
Since I am not going to go look at itunes to figure this out, I will take a wild guess and say "Rump Shaker" by Wrecks N Effect (ahhhhh Snap!)

11. T.V. show you secretly enjoy?
Secretly?  Dr Phil.  His guests make me feel well adjusted.

12. Would you rather play basketball or hockey?
I would rather slit my wrists.

13. Date someone older or younger?
At this point, if I could score a 24 year old, that would be awesome.

14. One place you could travel right now?
To the bathroom.

15. Do you use umbrellas?
Sure.  I also use toilet paper.  I am not sure get why this is a question.

16. Do you know all the words to the Canadian national anthem?
OH CANADA! OH CANADA!  Blah blah blah blah something or other....

17. Favorite cheese?
Any kind that won't make me feel like I have an alien growing in my bowels.

18. The Smith’s or The Cure?
Neither.  That was my generation's version of Emo.

19. Do you prefer blondes or brunettes?
I prefer well hung.

20. Best job you ever had?
Working at the used bookstore.  Until I realized that my boss was extremely unstable and weird.

Sunday Stealing: The Never Ending Meme, Part Two

Cheers to all of us thieves!

21. Did you go to your high school prom?
No.  I barely showed up at school.

22. Perfect time to wake up?
4pm.

23. Perfect time to go to bed?
4 pm.

24. Do you use your queen right away in chess?
I only use my queen to get into the gay bar.

25. Ever been in a car accident?
Yes.  Totally not my fault.  He should have seen that I wasn't paying the least bit of attention.

26. Closer to mom or dad…or neither?
Used to be my dad.  But then he turned into a miserable old man so now it's my mom.

27. What age is this exciting life over for you?
22 (I'm 34).

28. What decade during the 20th century would you have chosen to be a teenager?
1975-1985.  If I was of the age of sexual consent during the hair metal days, I would have been the trashiest, most aggressive groupie the world has ever seen.

I totally don't understand why the girly look was sexy back then
but for some reason, it totally was.

29. Favorite shoes you have EVER owned?
When I was a kid I had these awful white shoes that had a row of safety pins side by side.  My mother hated them which meant I thought they were fucking incredible.

30. Do you have an article of clothing you have had since you were in high school?
I burned pretty much any mementos from high school on purpose.

31. Were you in track and field?
Hahahahahahahahahaha!  I only run if I am being chased.  And that doesn't ever happen anymore.

32. Were you ever in a school talent show?
If being slutty was considered a talent, then yes.

33. Have you ever written in a library book?
BLASPHEMY!!!!

34. Allergic to?
Motherhood, manual labor, heartfelt sentimental-type conversation, emotional intimacy, and cockroaches (the last one is true.  I was actually allergy tested as a kid and that is the only one I really remember).

35. Favorite fruit?
Gay Shawn...Oh and this banana:

HOLY SHIT!!! I forgot to add the link to where I stole it from!  You totally cannot trust a thief!

Click here for SUNDAY STEALING.

Sorry is (apparently) the Hardest Word to Say

Ben is really bad at apologizing.  It isn't that he is a bad person. He tries really hard to do the right thing and I don't know that he has EVER intentionally hurt anyone.  I don't even think he has it in him.  But he just doesn't think he is ever wrong (or at least he can't admit when he is).  It doesn't matter how glaringly obvious the emotional injury is or how many times I try to explain it, he just doesn't get that even though it wouldn't bother him, it really bothers me.  So when he just gives in and apologizes just to shut me up (usually while rolling his eyes and saying "there, you happy now?'), we all know that it was only issued out of annoyance and/or pity.

Imagine the example this sets for a 4 year old.

A couple of days ago, Lila was climbing on/beating up Ben on the couch (as usual) and he moved the wrong way and accidentally pulled her hair (or hit her with an elbow, or something).  She started crying and was very upset because she thought he had done it on purpose. 

As mothers, we all know that there is no use in trying to explain to a 4 year old that it was not done on purpose and that there is no reason to be upset unless you really want to drag the tears out for 45 minutes.  It's best just to say sorry and give a kiss to make it better and move on with your day.

It isn't a game.

Daddy doesn't see it this way.  He simply told her to stop.  That she wasn't really hurt.  You can imagine how this went over.  Naturally, she cried even harder.

"Say you're sorry, Daddy."  I told him.  "That's what you do when you hurt someone."

You might want to sit down when I tell you his response.

"I didn't hurt her.  She did it herself.  What should I apologize for?"

Go ahead.  Let that sink in for a minute.

You should note that THESE boys are about
8 years old.

Obviously shocked that he would even need to be told to apologize, let alone debate the issue with me, I went on.  "Ben, she needs to know that when you hurt someone, the right thing to do is apologize.  You don't claim you didn't do it.  You don't tell them to get over it.  YOU SAY YOU'RE SORRY.  BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT PEOPLE DO WHEN THEY HURT SOMEONE WHETHER THEY MEAN IT OR NOT...."

"Yeah, but I didn't do anything.  She did it."  I suddenly realized that I am teaching morality to not one, but TWO children.

"Ben," I said. "When she accidentally knocks someone over in school even if they bump into HER, should she turn to them and say 'I didn't do anything.  I don't know what to tell you,' or should she instinctively say, 'Sorry, let me help you up?'"

Eyes rolling, and with a dramatic sigh that I mostly recognize from my 4 year old drama queen, he belts out, "FINE!  Sorry."

This is what he was really saying.

Lila continued to cry.

"She isn't even REALLY crying!" REALLY BEN???  This is what you are going with?  "She is only making a big deal of this because YOU are."

"Um...No.  If you had just apologized and rubbed her head where it hurt this would have been over, but since you are acting like a bratty child, she still feels bad because you clearly don't care that you hurt her."

"I DIDN'T HURT HER!!!!" He is still sticking to his story.  "Plus, I just said I was sorry and she's still crying."

What the hell kind of person did I get involved with?  Am I going to find the bodies of mutilated squirrels in the basement?  What kind of animal doesn't just try to make their 4 year old feel better?

This song is stuck in my head now.

Then I realized that this wasn't about him and her.  It was about me and him.

"Ben, you need to realize that you are showing her how to treat people.  If you don't want her to be a total asshole when she gets older, you need to do a better job of not showing her what an asshole acts like."

At this I went over to Lila and tried to change the subject.

He walked out of the room pissed off. 

We haven't talked about it since.

Another Confession about Motherhood

As I sit here I am sweating and hyperventilating and having all the typical fight or flight panic symptoms. 

Am I being stalked by a wild animal?  You could say that.

Am I about to be attacked by some crazed lunatic in the middle of the night?  Maybe.

Am I simply underconfident and know I am going to have my will and my patience tested to the point of breaking?  Yes.  For sure.

What is it that is causing me such distress?  I am alone all weekend with my three-year-old.

For most of you this is probably where you roll your eyes and click over to TMZ or some youtube video of a cat getting its little head stuck in a glass while trying to get a drop of milk (I saw it.  It's cute, right?).  Because I know that for many of you who are single mothers or full time stay at home moms, this is nothing you don't do all the time.

But for me, it terrifies me to no end.

Ben had to fly out to Arizona to take care of some things that were left undone when we moved back here.  IT was a last-minute thing,  so I only had a couple of days to prepare myself for the hell that would unfold when Lila got bored/annoyed/angry/her usual self with me and started to work my last nerve. I did not have ample time to work out a plan as to what I would do instead of just calling in The Big Guns (also known as "Daddy") to take over for a little while so that I didn't have a nervous breakdown.

Me after the FIRST
12 hours of continuous
whining.

I am afraid of a three year old. Not that I would ever let her in on that.  OHHHH No!  This is something I keep on the inside while I go about my day making sure we both eat and sleep and poop and keep ourselves in one piece.

Because I KNOW that I am the adult.  I know that I am in charge.  I know that we will be fine.  There is really honestly not a doubt in my mind that we will both survive this 4 day MOMMY-FEST relatively unharmed and only minimally emotionally drained.  And yet, the IDEA of not having backup around the house fills me with nothing short of complete and absolute dread.

Am I the only mother who feels this way?  Should I be committed?  Is it wrong that I depend so heavily on another person to keep the peace around here?  Do I need a body guard?

30 Days of Books - Day 4

A Book That Reminds You Of Home

This would have been much easier if I was still living AWAY from home in Arizona.  But I am going to pick one and tell you why:

It isn't the theme of this book that makes me think of home.  Honestly, I don't remember much of the story.  It's the time when I was reading it.

I was an odd teenager.  I was suffering from serious depression and dropped out of high school half way through my senior year.  During that spring, I started this book.  I would spend hours sitting in my parent's backyard or in my room reading this.  I had a tough time concentrating and so I went and got the audio version hoping to listen AND read to absorb the story.  I didn't know about audiobooks being abridged though and so I had to tough it out with the book. 

Half way through, my parents split.  My mother had a boyfriend and so she moved out and my father was thrown into his own private hell, which I could do nothing about because I knew that there was no words to help.  I was stuck there and this book became my escape.

So that is my book that reminds me of home.  My parents' home.

A Little Squeeze?

My kid is the Goddamned Ketchup Nazi. 

She insists on ketchup with every meal.  Eggs with Ketchup for breakfast. Grilled cheese with ketchup for lunch.  Pasta with ketchup for dinner.  And although I cringe to think about the sheer amount of high-fructose corn syrup she ingests every day, I am happy that there is something that makes her eat carrot sticks or non-nuggetized chicken.  Plus, I hear that in school cafetierias they actually consider ketchup a vegetable. 

But this new phase is really getting on my nerves.

Lila refuses to share her ketchup with the rest of the family.  We rarely eat foods at home that ACTUALLY require ketchup so in that way, I guess we're lucky. 

But we go out to eat a lot.  I realize I should be ashamed of how often we eat out but I just wrote a piece for Band Back Together about accepting that I am not perfect and not eating at home is one of those things that I just don't give a shit about, broke or not.  I WILL eat out twice a week.  It's my guilty pleasure. 

So as I have mentioned in a previous post (see here) we go to Friendly's a lot.  The last time we were there, I ordered a burger (which I never do because I am terrified of raw ground beef) but I was premenstrual and needed some iron so I ordered one.  When the server brought our meals, Lila snatched the ketchup and happily squeezed several small dots around her plate of Friendly Frank and mac and cheese.  I waited until she snapped the top back on and set it down so that I could ask her politely to "please pass the ketchup."

The look on her face was one of utter disgust, as if I had just asked her to pass the kitten entrails.  She just stared at me.

"Um...Lila...can I have the ketchup, please?  Now?"

She leaned forward as if she was considering my motives.  Did she think I was going to molest the ketchup or something?  Did she think I was going to use it for evil?  Then she slowly picked up the ketchup bottle and set it on the seat next to her.


This is what I saw in my head.

"Lila.  GIVE ME THE KETCHUP.  SERIOUSLY.  KETCHUP NOW OR NO ICE CREAM!"

Of course, through all this, her father is just sitting there next to her blissfully (purposely) ignoring the ridiculous power struggle that was taking place right in front of him.  When Ben reached over and helped himself to the bottle of ketchup, completely oblivious to the fact that I was asking for it just seconds ago, Lila snatched it out of his hand and clutched it to her chest, having rescued her "Precious" from the grip of doom.

"Seriously, Lila?  Really?  You can't just share the ketchup?  That's fine.  The next time I am having something that I really like, I will refuse to share it too.  Hey, guess who isn't sharing my french fries?  Guess who isn't getting my Reese's Peanut Butter Cup off my sundae?  Guess who is never, ever, EVER getting a sip of my soda again?"

She just clung to her ketchup bottle.  Ben, in the meantime, had simply gotten up and gotten another bottle of ketchup from the next table.  He never gets the underlying POINT of making her do things she doesn't like to do.  He tends to believe that these stupid power struggles are best left unfought.  I (obviously) tend to get sucked right into them and turn into a kid myself saying stupid things that just make her think it's funny to upset me.

After we were all finished with dinner and had put in our order for ice cream (because it is seriously just MEAN to not allow a kid to have ice cream at Friendly's no matter how unable to behave they may be), Lila put the ketchup back on the table and said, "You can use it on your ice cream if you want.  Can I still have your candy?"

"Mother Fucker!" I thought.

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.

Sometimes I hate her...but I just don't get this.

My friend forwarded me a video of a woman on the Today Show who is talking about making the decision to be a non-custodial parent to her children. On the one hand this sounds VERY appealing. In many custody arrangements, one parent only sees the children on the weekend or for part of the time, but that parent is almost always the father.

(go here to see the video)

I admit, I have had daydreams (bordering on orgasmic fantasies, actually) of having stretches of days alone when I could nap and eat what and when I wanted and have my house clean for more than 20 minute stretches. But as I read this, at first I found myself thinking, "these women are selfish assholes!" But I stopped myself realizing that I was feeling something else.  Something that seemed...very...NOT LIKE ME.  And then it struck me that I have NO DESIRE to really do this.

(check out this article that made me need to write this post)

I have a friend who did this several years ago. The boys father was simply more stable in his life, had a better job, a house, an extended family to help. She knew her son would be in good hands. She moved out of state and has a good relationship with her son, visiting for holidays and long weekends and he spends school breaks with her. I find it hard to talk to her about it because I am afraid that my questions will come off as judgments and in a way I simply DO NOT UNDERSTAND how you can come to this decision.

I wonder now if it isn't more my idea of what a mother is SUPPOSED to do that makes this all seem so insane to me. The only way I can imagine myself truly spending less than MOST of my time raising my child would be if I had some illness (like being a psychopathic killer?) that had me hospitalized or incapacitated.

And then I think, "Fuck this guilt shit.  FATHERS have always done this!"  As I mentioned before, depending on the living situations and distances, many custody agreements give fathers every OTHER weekend and holidays.  No one thinks they're selfish assholes for agreeing to this arrangement!  No one even questions it!  WHY IS IT OKAY TO ME FOR FATHERS TO BE SO MUCH LESS ATTACHED? Is it possible that my entire way of looking at the title of "MOTHER" is the reason that I think it sucks so much?


No. Sometimes it just sucks.

Married?

So the other night we were out at Friendly's with my friend who has a 6 year old son named Louie.  He's adorable and Lila was laughing hysterically at all his knock knock jokes.  Louie let me know that on Valentine's day, he believes that he is supposed to pick a girl at school to marry.  He said he didn't really like any of the girls at school and so I told him "that's why we brought Lila here to see you! So you can marry her." 

Lila got DEADLY serious and turned white.  "I DON'T WANT TO GET MARRIED!  NEVER!"  We all laughed, of couse, and I said, "Smart Girl!" 

As you may or may not know, Lila's dad and I are not married.  We just haven't bothered. 

Then I got nervous.  Does Lila not know what marriage is about?  Does she think it's some awful thing? (it kind of is.)  Or is she just like me, not seeing the purpose?

Awesome Relationship Advice from Non-Moms

I have said on numerous occasions that before I had Lila, I pretty much knew EVERYTHING there was to know about being the perfect parent.  No way would my kid refuse to go to bed or talk back to me!  Straight out of the womb they'd understand that there is a way we do things and they would adhere to that set of rules because they would KNOW the consequences. 

Well, this is total bullshit.  Ann you quickly realize that this being that you have brought forth from your loins is not actually a dog to be broken and trained but is actually a person with likes, dislikes, a will and a really super cute pouty face that you adore so much that you would do just about anything to never see that face sad.

The same was true before I had Lila when considering how I would act in any given love relationship with the father of my kid(s).  There were plenty of things I would NEVER put up with.  Joblessness? Leaving dirty socks all over the house? Snapping at me because of something totally unrelated?  Fuck that shit.  I would NEVER tolerate that kind of behavior.  Not to mention that it would never happen because I'll be damned if I am going to be with some broke-ass slob with a temper. 

But you know what they say about the best laid plans?  Yeah...well shit happens. 

Quick Background:

My relationship with Lila's father isn't thrilling.  In fact, lately it's almost excruciating.  Ever since having Lila we have had a tough time financially.  Not because of her but because he is in construction and when the housing market collapsed so did his business.  There has been a lot of stress and strain on our relationship because of this and we have seen setback after setback trying to get back on track.  I handle stress by wanting to be alone and he handles it by stuffing his frustration and basically believing that he's unhappy because of me.  I in turn get stressed because I feel like he is blaming me unjustly and he gets more frustrated because I just don't get what hes stressed about and it keeps growing.

Getting to the Point:

We don't really fight.  We like each other over all.  But day to day life has intruded in such a way that literally weeks will go by and suddenly I will realize we haven't kissed since last month.  I was talking to one of my single friends about this and  he gave me this advice:

"Children learn what they live.  If you two aren't happy together you should separate because it is better to have two happy parents apart than to have two miserable parents together.  You're just depriving yourselves of true love and happiness elsewhere and children adjust."  (This coming from a person whose parents stayed together until he was in his 20s and has never been married or had children.) 

I am paraphrasing of course, but this brings me to the simple logic of life without children.  The above advice makes total sense when you look at it on the surface.  Before I had Lila, if I wasn't head over heels in love I totally would have felt deprived.  I would have felt like something better was obviously around the corner and I would have known that I would be fine if I packed my shit and moved out.

But it isn't as simple with a family as it is with a couple.  Because as much as I am NOT head over heels for HIM, per se, I LOVE our family.  I love to watch Lila and Daddy playing and I love to go to the zoo or the beach or to dinner as a family.  I love our house and love playing CandyLand with the two of them. 

For much of my youth I assumed that "LOVE" and the chasing of what my friends and I called "the spark" was what life was all about.  This lasted when I became "WE" and it was just Ben and I.  And there were plenty of moments where I kind of felt that "spark" wavering and assumed it was only a matter of time before I'd have to be moving on.  All that changed when we became a family.   Suddenly I understood that this spark would certainly end up smoldering.  The intense would eventually become so-so, and that although plenty of people believe that without that fierce desire and passion in a relationship that it is doomed (as evidenced by ever-rising divorce rates), I started to believe that there was something far more important to me: COMMITMENT.

Ben and I are not married.  But at some point (around the time I decided I would have a kid with him) I decided that this was the life I was choosing.  I decided that for as long as my child exists, I would be bound to him by her.  Obviously, there are things that would negate this decision.  For example, if he ever hit me or did anything to hurt Lila or me, or went to prison or buried body parts of hookers in the basement then I would certainly have my own permission to walk away.  But in forming a family, I decided that there was "greater good" that I was now a part of in this unit, and that my individual happiness comes second to that.

There have recently been some instances that have made me question whether we even LIKE each other anymore.  And when I sat down to try to consider my options, I couldn't just think about the practical stuff (I would have to leave my house because its in his name; the car's in his name; I would have to stay with my parents who are pretty heavy smokers; I would want Lila to have the comfort of her house but I would want to keep her with me).  I had to consider the toll that this move would take on 3 people, individually and as a group.  Lila would miss one of us every day.  I am the parent who takes care of her when she's sick and does the day to day stuff like baths and medicine.  He is the parent who has fun and does fun stuff.  I am the one who sets the rules. He is the one who is more laid back.  One of us would always miss that first trip to the ocean or getting the Christmas tree or watching the Wizard of Oz together on the couch with popcorn.  We wouldn't do those things together anymore and each of us would be deprived of that wonderful occasion.

But what happens when you feel like you just don't care anymore  What happens when the sight of this person makes you want to slap him?  What do you do when you realize that if you have to listen to one more fucking Dave Matthews song blaring from the basement that you are going to burn the house down? 

To be honest, I simply have to try not to think about it.  Self help gurus and armchair clinical psychology has told us for a few decades now that our individual happiness is our inalienable right.  We are told that if we do not pursue our own self-fulfillment then the people around us will suffer.  And on some level, I know that to be true.  But isn't there something to be said for sticking it out because it's the right thing to do?  If no one is really suffering and in fact, you believe that the benefits to your child outweigh the detriment then don't you sort of HAVE to live up to the commitment you made?  Not too many years ago, when society was considered much more civilized, people generally felt that loyalty and commitment were what made men great.  Selfishness was abhored and altruism was an essential value to society.  Many of our kids now don't even know what altruism is.

I don't want to be miserable in a relationship that I don't want.  And I don't want to inflict that misery upon Lila.  I have no idea what the fate of our relationship will ultimately be.  But the decision to split is simply not just a matter of what will make me happy.  It is a matter of voiding the existence of a family.  I don't think that decision can be made just by looking at what the obvious answer would be.  And I don't think it is something that should be done without really weighing all the options.

When the kid is sick

I have been really lucky.  For most of Lila's short existence, she has been pretty healthy.  She's never had an ear infection.  She's never needed to go to the hospital.  So when she actually does get sick it's kind of a novel experience for me. 

I don't do well with throw up.  Or Shit.  Or mucus.  Actually, now that I think about it, every single time Lila has thrown up, shit outside of her pants or coughed up an phlegm ball, its somehow ended up on me.  It seems she saves all her best presents for Mommy!

Now, I don't know what the proper response is when your kid throws up but I know I always feel a little guilty about mine.  Some moms will cuddle their kids and hold a bucket under their chins and tell them gently, "let it out sweety...".  That has not been my typical conduct. 

Lila started out the week with what we all assumed was a nasty cold.  She was sneezing and coughing and miserable but there wasn't much of a fever and for the most part she wasn't too miserable (she felt no need whatsoever to sleep or nap or rest - much to my disappointment).  But as the week progressed, the coughing got worse at night, the nose blowing became more productive (and colorful) and she actually refused a Popsicle at one point (see, that's how we gauge how sick our kid is...if she still wants candy, ice cream or frosting then there's no need to spend the money on a doctor visit). 

On Thursday morning at the crack of dawn, I heard her in her room sort of half-crying.  Then I heard "NOOOO I DON'T WANT MY THROW UP TO COME OUT!!!"  I ran in and scooped her up just in time for me to hear her sputter a little bit out and then project puke across my sweatshirt.  Like I said, my reactions are not super nurturing, so I sat her on the side of the bath tub, told her to stay bent over in case more came out and as she cried for me to hold her I walked quickly to my room, stripped off my clothes, and quickly grabbed a shirt to throw on.   I came back into the room and grabbed a wet washcloth preparing to strip her pajamas off as well.  However, Lila (somehow) had ZERO puke on her.  She managed to completely spare herself any kind of residue except on her chin and when I came back in the room and got her some water to rinse her mouth she informed me that "it feels all better now!"

AWESOME!!!

As an Epilogue to this, I immediately called the doctor because the puke was mostly greenish yellow snot that had drained from her sinuses and I told them I needed to get her in THAT DAY.  By the time we went to the doctor, Lila was acting like nothing was wrong and I felt like an asshole for bringing her in her pajamas when she was obviously well enough to have gotten dressed and partied all day.  It turned out she had a pretty bad sinus infection and she's fine now.  But I can't stop wondering if I am an asshole parent for being so practical when she was obviously so upset by the whole thing.

You can dress them up, but you can't take them out.

Ben believes in "family time". He is big on going out on adventures and taking the kid and bonding or whatever. Every weekend, rather than stay at home and sleep (my preferred way to spend a Sunday) Ben wants to go out somewhere to some park or event or kid-friendly venue to "have some fun" together. But it's never actually any fun.

The idea of this is not entirely familiar to me. My parents learned really early that when you take a small child out to do something, it is hardly ever actually for their enjoyment and almost always for yours. So they stopped taking me to Chuck E Cheese and started just letting me tag along when they went to cookouts and bar hopping. And I didn't know the difference. I thought it was awesome that everyone would give me quarters for the video games and let me raise hell inside the house while the adults got drunk in the backyard. To me, that was family time.

Ben on the other hand had a mother who took him places. Fun places. Ben went to Disney World. And to gigantic amusement parks and to Hawaii. Ben has all these great memories that he wants Lila to have. And to a point, I think it's nice and all. But here's the thing...

Lila is just about 3. First off, I don't think she is going to remember whether we went to the zoo or sat in the backyard and threw rocks at squirrels. She will most likely only remember the way we traumatized her when we made her sit on the potty at the restaurant and the auto-flush went off and (literally) scared the piss out of her.

But even more importantly, going anywhere with this kid requires a lot of planning and a lot of patience. We have to go early enough so that she isn't grumpy and tired but late enough so that she can have a decent breakfast. We have to bring things to amuse her but not the same things we brought last time. We have to make sure we are going somewhere close enough that if she has another "potty" incident, we can get home in time to not have her pooping in her pants. And the truth is, it's stressful.

And what do we usually seem to get for all the stress of making this wonderful outing for our 3-year old? A screaming miserable brat. Any time we plan to take her somewhere that is specifically a kid place, she is a total asshole the entire time. I hate carnivals. But Ben insisted that we take her. And what did she do? She cried because she was tired. She cried because they only had Sprite and not orange soda. She cried because she needed to be a full 4 inches taller to ride on one of the rides and then screamed because she was terrified on one of the kiddie rides.

Even when we do things that are supposed to be "fun for the whole family" it isn't any fun. We went to the beach last weekend. Previous to Lila, the beach was one of my favorite things to do. Its hot and sunny and I can people watch and read and just relax. But there is absolutely NOTHING relaxing about going to the beach with a 3 year old. Besides the 2 trips from the car we had to make because we needed to bring enough toys, food, and drinks to keep her content for a few hours, I barely got to sit down because she likes to run in the sand. Ben took her in the water and the entire time I had to watch because I quite frankly don't trust that he wouldn't let her out of his site just long enough for her to be a subject of a "human chain" (which, by the way I cannot believe they still do. I have NEVER heard a story about the human chain kicking someone under the water). Between the crying to go into the water, the crying because the water is too cold, the crying because the sand castle wouldn't stand up and the crying because we tried to help her with her sand castle, I wanted to walk straight into the water with rocks in my pockets and just keep on going...

Ben says he wants to have nice memories with her. He says he wants her to have these nice memories and to have a better childhood than I did. And although I highly doubt I will be taking Lila to any bars in the near future (it was a different time then), I still don't see the point of taking the kid out anywhere if she is going to be just as miserable as she is at home bored.

I hope this changes as she gets older because I am ready to just quit the fucking family outings in favor of "family chore day" and "family watch TV day" every weekend.

OMG! Did I become a housewife without even getting married?

There are things in my life that I have always held dear, and through the strain of motherhood, very few of those things have remained intact. But one thing keeps on slapping me in the face. I don't want to be somebody's housewife. So much so that when Ben and I were talking about marriage we decided not to because I have such an issue with being his legal property even if in modern times it isn't REALLY like that (right?).

So (and here's a bomb being dropped) Ben and I have been going to couple's counseling because we had a hell of a transition from AZ to here and also because he believes I can be a real asshole sometimes and I think he can be too much like a nagging wife. So we've been working all this out and it seems to be going really well and we're getting along and then it occurred to me that Ben no longer nags me. And he no longer complains that I am working too much (because I only work part time now) and he also refuses to do bedtime because "he hates it" and financially, the whole house rests on him.

Through the wonders of couples counseling, I have tried to be more open and loving and attentive to him when he has a rough day. I am trying to understand that I can't pass Lila off to him immediately when he walks in from work no matter how much I want to strangle her at that moment. I am primary parent who spends the most time with her and I have come to accept that. Its me she wants when she falls down and its me that gets up with her at night.

When the fuck did I become Donna fucking Reed? How did this happen? I was happy being the reluctant mother. I am still pissed off. I still hate doing dishes. And yet I DO THEM. ALL THE TIME. Whoever said the only constants in life are death and taxes never lived with a 2 year old because toys on the floor and dishes in the sink are ALWAYS a-plenty.

I am pissed that I am his housewife without the benifits of being a wife. I am pissed that I got suckered into it. And the worst part is that he still wishes that I was working full time! Why, so that I could also work 40 hours a week but then come home and pick up your shit and tend to a kid that learned to say bad words at Grandmas house? No thanks.

Maybe I am just having another bout of my typical commitment phobia. Maybe it's a little too late for that though.

That BASTARD!!!

Yesterday, we were having dinner at my mother's house and Lila was in the form she always is in at Grandma's... "Total Brat Mode" (TBM). During dinner Lila starts whining and crying about something and since she probably didnt really know what it was that she wanted she couldnt tell us and it turned into a fiasco of whining and screaming and trying to wiggle out of the high chair.

My aunt was there and gave me a sorry look and I said "welcome to my whole day, every day". Ben had the fucking nerve to say to me "Really? How do you think I feel? I had her all day today and most of the day yesterday. I am sick of hearing you bitch about how hard it is."

Now besides the obvious "FUCK YOU," which I couldn't say in front of everyone there, I wanted to clarify something. BEN DID NOT HAVE HER ALL DAY. We were both home with her. We both took her to the grocery store. He thinks that just because I am in the next room doing the dishes and he is responsible for making sure she doesnt crack her skull on anything that he "has her all day" and I find that fucking offensive. Like I was out of town on a spa date for the weekend and it was just him alone with her for days at a time (I fucking WISH!!!).

During the week while he gets to be a productive member of society, I get to tend to her every whim (and believe me, there are millions of them) and try to stay sane while watching Calliou for the 400th time before noon. And because a couple of days a week my mother keeps her while I work part time just to have some grown up time, she is spoiled and has no sense of boundaries or rules. When Lila falls down or cries dramatically for 45 minutes because her doll fell off the couch, there is no one else there so that I dont have to drop everything and comfort her. There is no second parent to keep an eye on her so I can take a quick shower. There is no other parent there to give her lunch so that I can get a few things done. And that is the luxury that Ben has when he claims he "has her all day" on Sundays.

I shouldnt complain too much. I realize that most people dont have the help I have with Lila. I realize that Ben helps more than many Dads and that he tries to participate as much as possible. But we are FAR from equal in our parenting and this kind of traditional arrangement is something that I vehemently protest because I figured that I was more evolved than that.

And yet, he has the NERVE to tell me he's tired of hearing ME complain about how hard it is? Maybe I need to take more time for myself to show him what it's really like to have her ALL DAY.