Goodbye Frumpy...maybe next year...

http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/10/it-turns-out-i-used-to-be-hot.html

Let's be honest...I need to review!

I still seem to have a problem with this, though I've gotten a little better...
http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/10/evidently-paragraphs-are-important.html

Don't you KNOW how that happens?

People are seriously out of their minds. I know--I am one of them, but still. A few years ago I had to go back to work. My son was almost a year old and it was hard for me to make that sacrifice. It was also hard for me to put food on the table because of our depleting financial status, so off to work I went. A girl who taught across the hall from my office found out she was pregnant at the beginning of the year. I was (obviously) very happy for her as were all of her friends and colleagues. It was funny for me because I had been where she was the year before, so I could see just how crazy I acted when pregnant. I really tried not to be TOO high maintenance, but that only goes so far with a pregnant woman!

This particular woman was quite bossy. Her students seemed to love her because she was also loud and fun (NO--I am not talking about a "friend" who is really me--there are other loud and obnoxious teachers out there!), but as her team's leader, she seemed to call all of the shots and the other members of her team were willing to let her. After she had her baby, she told our friend that she would not "let" her babysit.
Here's me:
"REALLY?! She won't LET you babysit? Because it is SUCH an honor and SUCH a coveted position?"

Here's my friend: "Well, she won't even let her mother do it yet--she just doesn't feel like her son will be ready to be with anyone but her until after the first or second year...she also wouldn't let her mom give him a bath--she is very protective of him!"

Here's me:

Here's my friend: "Teeheehee--what?! It's not a big deal! She'll LET me eventually..."

Here's me:

Here's me:

Here's me:
*SIGH* "So let me get this straight--if I act like watching my son for me is a PRIVILEGE, then I will eventually be able to get free babysitting? SIGN. ME. UP."

Here's my friend: "Do  you WANT me to watch him? Because I WILL..."

Here's me: "You are SOOOO missing my point. And what's this whole bath business? Did her mother not bathe HER successfully when she was a baby? I never had THE NERVE to tell people who had a hand in my husband's or my upbringing that they could not participate in things because I was unsure of their abilities. Any time I felt that little pang of...control loss? I reminded myself that the only person who was new at the parenting thing was ME!..." THAT was me (supposedly) not judging.

Anyway, I got pregnant with my second that fall as well, so we definitely were able to commiserate with each other. We both left at the end of the year and I never saw her again. Until I DID see her again. The following year I was working out at the Y and her son played in the gym with my two. We ran into each other on the way out and she noticed I was pregnant...AGAIN...and after asking me if I knew how it happened (YES--I KNOW--WE ALL KNOW, so you can STOP asking us!) she went on to say,

"We will NEVER have another one--WE just think it's selfish. There is no way you can have enough love and time for more than one child. PLUS, aren't you afraid that at least one of them is going to be messed up? Because I look at families and there is always ONE messed up kid--like my one sister is a TOTAL mess, so if my parents had stopped after having ME..." (As only an oldest child can say...)

Here's me:


cricket...cricket...

"Well, it was nice seeing you. I am going to go work on damaging ALL of my children now--this way it will be fair."

Now I can't help but think that maybe her parents should have stopped BEFORE having her. Just sayin'...

Part 2 of the housing debacle

So in my last post I talked about "bragging" and Words with Friends and gave you background on what we lovingly refer to as "The MANS." We don't live in that house anymore. The other shoe fell. The housing market  started to crash and my husband's company closed his office. He took a job out of Wilmington, NC and we tried to sell our house--no bites. His new company allowed him to work out of the house (on commission only) and we were primarily living off of savings. Luckily, we had a lot of that from when times were good. Only, it's funny (or in fact, not-so-funny) how quickly you burn through savings when there is hardly any money coming in...too quickly.  I went back to teaching (you know--that lucrative profession that is so revered...) and we attempted to make it on what we were both bringing in, but we worked through our savings and the teaching salary didn't cut it. My husband looked for work and finally found it--across the country in Kalispell, Montana (or MonFREAKINtana) and we tried a short sale on our house. Only AFTER we decided on the short sale (and had buyers) did people start coming out of the woodwork wanting to buy the house. Almost everyone I knew called to tell me about SOMEONE who wanted to buy our home. Only WE were in Montana and our HOME was in Virginia. We relied on our "realtor" to do right by us and THAT was like the ZILLIONTH mistake we made in what we can refer to as "The Downfall of the Corwin Empire." Okay--THAT may be braggartly (?!), but it makes me laugh--I'm not sure why. I'm not sure why ANYTHING makes me laugh, so give me a break, okay?

So I agree that if you are selling your home it is okay to use a For Sale by Owner, HelpUSell or something along those lines, but after trying to sell our home and failing, we put it on the market a year later, and as I mentioned above, decided to do a short sale (after depleting our savings) and went through HepUSell. The problem with this plan was the fact that realtors for those companies only make a set amount--UNLESS they do a short sale. The guy we worked with told us all about it--and that he primarily does short sales because it's the only way for him to make good money. Red flag? You'd think, but no. He was clearly not inspired to do any WORK for us, he just wanted to collect his fat check. After dragging his feet for eight or nine months (and preventing the fine family who waited patiently to move into "The MANS" from looking to purchase elsewhere), the deal finally fell through. He never passed the paperwork on to the right people...though we cannot solely blame him. WE probably should have tried to sell sooner--instead of trying to make it work when times were tough and even if he HAD done his part...Wells Fargo OWNED our loan and had HSBC servicing it so it was almost impossible to get ANYONE to help us or to answer our questions. After nearly eight months, our loan ended up with Countrywide who rejected the short sale immediately. I don't even remember the whole thing, it was maddening--especially when we already felt like the dregs of society for doing the short sale--NOW we were moving into FORECLOSURE...for shame!

 What I DO remember about this time is getting a phone call from HelpUSell guy on a particularly trying day after I had just had surgery. We hadn't heard from him in a while and had begun to lose hope, as we could not afford to keep up payments on a home we were not living in AND pay for a place...well...to ACTUALLY live in with our family.

Just a side note, there was definitely a time when I was afraid that we would not have a place to live--AT ALL. I know that family would have eventually learned of what was going on and insisted that we stay with them rather than be homeless, but this was a definite possibility for our family. I have NEVER been so afraid--what kind of parent WAS I anyway? How could I let it get to the point where my babies could very well not have a place to sleep? I am so glad that I have NEVER been one to judge people who are homeless or needy or...well, I try not to judge ever, but nobody's perfect. I'm not BRAGGING here, I am simply stating a fact. Whenever friends would complain about other "dregs" of society, I would always think of my friend Jen and the three sides to every story. You NEVER know what is going on in a person's life because you have NEVER walked in that person's shoes. Now it seemed I WAS walking in another person;s shoes. I didn't love it...

 My husband was at work and I was attempting to get food for the maniacs. Realtor-guy called and was manic on the phone, asking me to quickly send $5,000 so we could finalize the deal.

Here's me: " WHAT?! Five THOUSAND dollars?  If I had FIVE THOUSAND dollars, do you REALLY think I would be living in a 600 square foot TOWNHOME across the street from a drug dealer in MonFREAKINtana?! I don't THINK so!"  Just a note about this--the townhome was NOT so bad--it was just SO SMALL and there were naked babies running around outside all the time...we were able to move to a larger, nicer home after about six months (where MY babies were the naked babies running around outside). It turns out that the landlord of the townhome was great and the landlord in the NICER home was a creep, but I digress...

The short sale fell through, mostly because our "realtor" was an idiot, though I'm sure the fact that we had to stop paying the mortgage didn't help. The best part was the fact that we would get notices from the HOA demanding that we cut our lawn and fix our mailbox and do things that we did not have the money or time to either fly back to Virginia (about $2000) to fix it ourselves or to hire someone to do it for us--especially on a home we were regrettably losing. Irresponsible, maybe--but we were definitely going through some things. I only felt bad about all of this because of the dear friends we left in Fredericksburg who had to LOOK at our trashed home--the home that was once the subject of MUCH bragging...and think that it was bringing down THEIR property values (which would continue to drop--with or without our help, but who KNEW this would happen?!).

Well, THIS sounds like a big pity party or something and if there is ONE thing I CANNOT STAND (more than a braggart) it's a victim. I played the "victim" once in real life in the late eighties and early nineties (some of you, if I didn't lose you eighteen paragraphs ago, knew her and it was NOT fun for you, I'm CERTAIN!) and decided that I could not STAND to be that annoying for my ENTIRE life! So please do not think that in ANY part of this I wanted to be A. A BRAGGART or 2. A VICTIM. It is just one of my nonsensical rants to inform or entertain.

...and to perhaps challenge you to a WWF game...

Tuesday: TOO MANY topics to title

     Well, the "meme" thing didn't quite work out as planned. I DO thank those of you who posted for taking the time to share your stories--they made me laugh and really made my day! I'm pretty sure that there is more to this meme thing than I know, only I am pretty sure that I am not going to do anything to fix it!
 
 WHY, you ask? Well, I spend A LOT of time on the computer. A LOT is actually an understatement (even in all CAPS). My schedule these days is:
1. Wake up--usually because of yelling or crying--OR because the kids are making noise (I don't think I will ever NOT do that joke. it's like I'm a ninety-year-old man!)
2. More yelling, screaming, crying.
3. Ask children nicely to get dressed and make sure their bags are ready.
4. Make breakfast (I don't know if you remember (or if you READ your assignment...)http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/10/healthy-i-think-not.html, but it pretty much explains why I try to feed my children some fruit, yogurt, or whole grains before they go to school in the morning. I COULD have them eat the animal crackers that the school provides for breakfast (and I DO on REALLY bad mornings!), but I'm a mean mom.
5. Ask children nicely to get dressed and make sure their bags are ready. Ask children to brush their teeth.
6. Pack lunches (YES--I know it would be easier if I would only pack them at night, but it turns out it ISN'T that much easier and it is so very hard for me to get off of the sofa at night).
7. Ask children nicely to get dressed and make sure their bags are ready. Ask children to brush their teeth.
8. Gather books and papers and lunches to put in their bags that are not ready.
9. Throw dishes in the sink (or leave them on the table for days. It just depends...)
10. Scream at the top of my lungs because the children did not gather their things and put them in their bags and they did not brush their teeth.
11. Scream LOUDER because the children STILL don't have shoes on and their teeth are rotting out as I speak.
12. Zip up bags, force toothbrushes in each child's mouth (though I may let them rot--it just depends on the day) carry three bags and three screaming children out the door.
13. BARELY make it to school on time. USUALLY pull up to the building just as the doors are closing and locking.
14. Sign children in late.
15.Drop the youngest off at preschool.
16. Magic returns. Permanent scowl not quite as evident as earlier.
17. DRAG (YES, DRAG...I'm still working on the whole "mind-body" thing) my butt to the gym.
   
Okay--when all is said and done, I usually get home between 12 and 12:30 depending on how much I do at the gym--exercising AND talking.  My latest schedule has included eating an apple and a banana on the way to school (I was missing breakfast) and making and eating a salad when I get home (I was missing lunch, too). THEN...I get on the computer. SOME days I will clean first, but if I do that I tend to feel uninspired and have a more difficult time writing. All this takes some work--you understand.  Now, you may be asking yourself, WHY does it take three hours to write a blog? It doesn't. I usually sit down and hammer it out within minutes, but it takes a full hour to mess with any links I may want to add, an hour to review facebook posts, and about TWO hours to fight with CAPCHA codes to comment on my blog and other blogs I like. I posted on facebook the other day some examples of what my demonic computer sends to me: " The "CAPTCHA" codes I got today when commenting on blogs: ruinsu, sch A sap, and stu upD. I swear the little man in my computer is messing with me!" I've also gotten "U shtup," "UR hor," "grl dMB" and "smel LE fet." Maybe I'm reaching,but I don't think I am. My computer demon thinks I am a stupid, smelly whore who is a sap and should shut up. Oh--and something "ruins" me. Or I ruin something. Either way, there is "ruining" going on and THAT can't be good!
If I ever figure out how to do tabs, I am going to have one for my running log of CAPCHA codes. There are so many that I can't even THINK of now--some that just come right out and SAY nasty things (unlike these where you have to work at them a little. instead of "UR hor," they come out and say, "YOU are a Whore," or "Hey you stupid slut!" Nice. That just reminded me of a song that is evidently out now--something about a "stupid slut..." by some young performer my children idolize. My friend Berenice told me that her daughter LOVES this person, so I know it is just a matter of time for MY children. Considering my only experience with music is KidsBop and Barney (yes, Addison still LOVES that purple dinosaur and is NOT ashamed to admit it), I am glad she warned me. I cannot even IMAGINE what I would do if I heard one of my children say or sing, "...stupid whore..." We've come a long way since http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/10/to-curse-or-not-to-curse.html and evidently we landed on, "to curse."

They STILL act like it is a big deal when someone says, "stupid," and unless they HAVE heard that song, I'm pretty sure they have never heard the word, "whore," so I may be safe. Of course, three weeks in to kindergarten last year, I heard Ryan telling Brayden that she and her friend, Caitlyn, have a "...sexy walk" that they do on the playground. REALLY? A SEXY walk? Sadly, it was true. Last night friends of ours invited us over for a "family night" that they have every Monday. When the organized activities were done, SEVEN children (I seriously don't know HOW people do it--bless you, Duggar family and those like you! Anyway--sorry! I saw something shiny.)   Oh--so the girls were playing dress up and they came strutting into the kitchen wearing and OWNING high heels. I am pretty sure that I would have bit it--HARD-- in heels that high, but my daughter was strutting her stuff like it was her job. GREAT news. NOW I understand the "sexy walk" on the playground and it is QUITE disturbing!

It is now Friday and I wrote all of this on Tuesday. I explained that the actual WRITING of the blog usually only takes minutes and that is true. The problem is, on some days I am sleep-typing. Today could end up being one of those days and Tuesday was DEFINITELY a sleep-typing day. On most sleep-typing days, I peck away at the keys, finish in minutes and post before I think twice about what I've written (and hope it wasn't something horribly done or in poor taste). I try to NEVER look at those posts again. EVER. The problem with this post is that I actually DID fall asleep while typing it. LUCKILY I  nodded off enough to jerk myself awake, because I promised to spend the morning in my daughter's classroom and the afternoon in my son's. I immediately exited the program and rushed off to help out with the crazy Valentine's Day happenings in their classrooms. I also volunteer when it ISN'T a crazy classroom day and those days are SO MUCH BETTER, but  I  realize that my services are more needed on the crazy days. It KILLS me because the principal was OBSERVING teachers on Valentine's Day. I remember my own principals when I was teaching reminding us that EVERY day is a teaching day. I don't care WHERE you are, or WHO celebrates or not--a classroom full of twenty-five PLUS elementary school-aged children  is going to be OUT OF HAND on Valentine's Day. Add to it the fact that they chose to  make Valentine's week, conference week as well (which means they get out an hour and a half earlier)...what a nightmare.  These are things that annoyed me as a teacher and that annoy me even more as a parent. Setting someone up to fail is not something I like to witness--even when I'm in sleep-typing/walking/volunteering mode.

WHY am I telling you all of this? Because it is now FRIDAY and I never posted this. Only NOW I am looking at it again (though I only skimmed it because it is boring enough to send me RIGHT back into sleep-typing mode) and wondering if I should just quit while I'm ahead and post it before it gets worse. This was GOING to be a Valentine's Day post--I'm not sure what it ended up as, but I DO want to mention that I got a pretty good V-Day gift. My husband came home with Bang Bang shrimp from Bonefish Grill (which we haven't had in YEARS because we lived in MonFREAKINtana (see http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/10/hundred-dead-bodies-simply-arent-enough.html to see how much I truly LOVE MonFREAKINtana) and the one here is about forty minutes from us) (http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2012/02/according-to-my-plan-oh-great-now-i.html) which tells me that--EGADS--he actually READS my blog!  WHAT a GREAT present! After THIS particular post, he MAY be the only one left who does...

Goodbye, Frumpy...(easier said than done...)

It turns out, I used to be hot. No--it's true. I KNOW what you are thinking..."I KNEW her then (whenever "used to" was...) or dated her then and she was NOT 'hot'," but I'm sorry to say it--you are wrong.

I looked at old pictures the other night and didn't even RECOGNIZE the person in those photos. I literally ran (yes--LITERALLY) to the mirror to do a comparative study. The result? I used to be hot. Now...well, let's just say I USED to be hot. It's really all relative.

 Here's the thing--I never THOUGHT I was hot--or even too pleasing to the eye. I knew I wasn't a heinous abomination or anything and children didn't run screaming from the room when I entered (though they don't do that now, either--unfortunately...), I just didn't realize just how good I looked. Comparatively speaking. You see, if we all had a glimpse into what COULD happen, we would be far more secure with ourselves and our present state of...hotness. Compared to the facial hair-ridden-under-eye-bag-wearin'- child-totin'-overweight mess I've become, I would even go as far as to say I was SMOKIN'. Yeah--that's right--I said it. And I will not hear otherwise from naysayers.

I look at pictures of high school and college friends and they look like they walked off of the Desperate Housewives set. Perfect makeup (pshaw...MAKEUP!), perfect hair, perfect bodies...I think they may even...SHOWER. REGULARLY. Bitches. Just kidding--excuse the language. Especially since those of you reading ARE hot--and have kept your hotness throughout childbirth and parenting. Some of you are even HOTTER than you were (as if that could even be POSSIBLE!). Instead of calling you names, I need to be happy for you--and I am. Really. In fact, there should be some kind of an award or something for those of you who didn't lose it...I know how hard it had to be considering how hard it was for ME to be HERE! Yes...it could get WORSE...I need to do something about it. TODAY.

 So if I get "hot" again, will I know it, or will I constantly be reaching for something that is unattainable? I think of when I used to babysit (I didn't stop until I was like thirty--I made more money doing that than what I made TEACHING. So sad...) and some of the moms REALLY had it together and were still hot. Some of the moms, however, didn't start to look (their degree of) "hot" until well after their children left the toddler years. Don't get me wrong--no one got THIS bad and they were all pretty--I'm talking about HOT. You could tell they missed it and when they got it back, they took frumpy by the neck and laid it out for good. THIS inspires me. A little laser-hair treatment (a dear friend asked me after the chin hair debacle why I haven't done this yet. Money? Time? Complacency? Good question!), regular trips to the gym (instead of four days on...one week off...one day on...two weeks off...three days...you get it), clothing that doesn't look like I got it from the PE lost and found...THESE things will help in my quest. And THIS time I will appreciate HOT. I will embrace it, love it and nurture it like it is a deserted baby on a stoop. Hopefully then, it won't leave me again.

To curse or not to curse...

So we are driving with my son (Brayden) and his best friend on Saturday and his friend is telling a story about these boys he befriended in his neighborhood. One of the boys, it seems, likes to use curse words. ALL of them. "I shouldn't say them, right Miss Nika?" he innocently asks. "NO!" my husband and I (finally doing something ALONE and TOGETHER) yelled and practically jumped out of our seats.

 "I mean, that's okay--it's good that you know they aren't okay to say. Sometimes friends aren't told that their words are wrong or that they can hurt other people.  Sometimes it hurts people's feelings just by SAYING the word, even if it isn't meant as an insult,"   I added, trying to deflate the fear he may have felt when the two of us jumped on him.

"Yeah," Brayden contributed. "I know the 'H' word the 'S' word the 'D' word and the 'F' word and I wouldn't want to hear ANYONE say them!" He nodded, knowingly.

My husband and I exchanged glances and I asked, "Really? I'm glad you know not to use them...you won't be in trouble for saying them now...I don't mind, do you, [best friend]?" "No! What are they, Brayden?"

"Hatestupiddumbandfreak!"  he shouted in one breath. "And I'll try not to say them. EVER."

I love my son.