Dear Nikki...

Yesterday, I received a solicitation for advice. Why someone would seek my advice, befuddles the hell outta me, but, this is a tough social situation that moms can find themselves in quite often.

Here goes...

Dear Nikki,

I have this friend who occasionally will watch my children for me. Truth be told, I watch hers far more than she watches mine and when she DOES watch mine, she generally just makes my oldest watch hers, and mine. So she really doesn’t do a whole lot. Which is irritating but not the problem I want to address. The problem is this:

The last time she watched my kids my oldest wasn’t there. One of my kids pooped his pants (totally out of the ordinary for him!) and apparently she FREAKED out. My older one said that she was ripping his clothes off of him and screaming at him that it was UNACCEPTABLE. She barely wiped him and put him in the shower and was STILL yelling at him about how he was being a baby and only babies pooped themselves. My boy was crying and my older one was trying to console him and said “It’s ok, it was just an accident.” And my friend yelled, “It’s NOT ok it’s completely UNACCEPTABLE. Don’t tell him it’s OK.”

When I got there to pick them up I asked why he was wearing different clothes. She said he pooped and they had a stern talking but they were friends again. No sooner did we get into the car when my boy was telling me how my friend yelled at him and screamed at him and he started crying again. My older one said that she was totally screaming and yelling and related the story, above, as I just retold it to you.

I haven’t exactly known how to deal with this situation. I’ve disciplined her kids when they were here because they are little monsters that literally climb over my gates and up my walls and pilfer food from cupboards. But I don’t yell at them and berate them. I put them in time out and tell them that it’s not ok for that behavior to happen. Because of all of this, I haven’t really spoken to her since the incident nearly a month ago. The more I think about it the more upset I get.

Am I over reacting? Under reacting? Should I say something to her or just never leave my kids over there again? We’ve been friends for 12 years so I’d hate to just toss it out the window, but it’s NOT ok for her to treat my children that way, even if she was having a bad day and my kid pooped himself.

Any advice?
Mama Bear

My advice...

Dear Mama Bear,

I know a guy who'll do a good job. I've used him in the past. He's a professional. He'll keep it clean, he can't be traced. He can break her legs, rearrange her face, or...more. You just say the word, and it's as good as done.
So...will ya help me, help her out?

What would YOU do??

You don't know me, but, would you STFU?!

Jake and I sat down to lunch.

The kids were in school, it was just he and I.

**Can you tell by the way I'm typing, that I'm smiling, every time I type that i get to do stuff, while the kids are in school?**

We were alone. No coloring pages, no kids meals, no, "Table please," so that Jack doesn't stare over the shoulder of the people sharing a booth behind us, uncomfortably close to them, grossing them out.

**We learned our lesson on this one, when he loudly proclaimed that the guy behind us, "Isn't fat, he just ate waaaaaaaay too much food." He's our feral child.**

None of that...just me, Jake, and food.

Although I have a newfound affinity for all things quiet, at restaurants, I expect to hear the typical bustle of the lunch-rush crowd, and the undiscernable mumblings of many conversations being had around the room. However, what I do not expect is the annoying, shrill voice of Talky McTalkerson, as she dominated the conversation across the table of the booth behind me. In my ear.

**If Jack was with us, we would've requested a table. Far from Talky. Hell, if Jack was with us, in the booth, he would've leaned over, uncomfortably close to the woman's friend, and said, "Lady, will you tell her to STFU?!"**

This woman was awful!

She was one of those people who ramble around in conversations, bouncing from one topic to the next, no one else can squeeze a thought in anywhere...OH.MY.GAWD. I wanted to shove my fork into her eyeball. And I know...KNOW...the lady with her did, too.

This woman went 'round in circles...so very loudly, 'round in circles...

"My neice is just such a brat, I mean, I love her...but, she is just really hard to handle...and my brother and sister in law, well, you know I haven't spoken to my brother in two years...it's awful...it's so hard not even being on speaking terms with him...I mean, he's my brother...it upsets my mom...I know it does...especially, because, the last time I saw him was at Uncle Ed's funeral...and he didn't even speak to me...but, Kelly talked to me, but, she was really short with me...and then when I saw Kelly after the funeral, she was okay...we had dinner...and talked...but, that girl just has waaaaaaay too much drama...ya know...BWAHAHAHAHAAHAHA...but, back to my neice...."

**OH.DEAR.GOD...I forgot about the neice. How could I forget about the neice. Seriously thinking about shoving the fork into my own eyeballs. To stop the insanity.**

Her lunch partner was dying inside. I know she was. She had to be. I wanted to hug that woman. I wanted to reach my hand around the back of the booth, and grab her hand, knowingly caress it...hopefully reassuring her that there are people who know how to have real conversations in this world. That it wasn't too late to escape this god-awful friendship. Alas, she'd probably think I was hitting on her, and be all creeped out.

McTalkerson continued, without pause, without a breath...without regard for my last nerve...

"But...my neice is just so rude, and disrespectful...I wasn't like that when I was a kid...and when I have them, I won't let my own kids talk to me that way..."

**AHHHH!! Hope. A ray of light. The 'Mouth' has not yet reproduced!!**

"As sooooooon as she gets to my house, she starts pouting...'When can I go home?'...'I'm ready to leave.'...She's so rude...I want to talk to my brother about it...but, I can't, 'cuz I have to see my neice through my mother...."

Jake can see my frustration, and is walking me through the lamaze that I learned while pregnant with my first born. He coaches me, "Breathe. It's okay. They just have a few more bites, and they'll leave. You're doing so good."

Inside, I'm not doing good. At all. This is what I hear in my head...

**STFU!! STFU!! STFU!! STFU!! SHUT.THAFUCK.UP!!!

Put that effing cheesesteak in your effing mouth, close it, and CHEW, for all that is holy!! Seriously. Do it. Do it now, before I shove that cheesesteak up your ass!!

I can solve all your problems right now, lady. All of 'em. You listening? Your brother? He wants you to STFU! Kelly? She wants you to STFU! I would bet, that Uncle Ed, off'ed himself because you wouldn't STFU!! Even your precious little neice...only 8 years old. The little dear. All she wants is for YOU...to STFU!!!!**

Man, I should have more patience for people.

But, I don't...

I wonder what they will remember...

Just now, as I lay in bed reading, I heard Jake flipping through channels on the t.v. He paused on the Labor Day Telethon.

I had forgotten all about it.

When I was a kid, I watched the Telethon religiously. I don't know why, because now, I can barely sit through thirty minutes of it.

As a kid, I would spend the night at my cousins' house, one is ten years older than me, the other six years older, and both are more like sisters. We would stay up all night. Watching musical performances...listening in on live callers from all over America, as they handed over their hard earned money for a good cause...laughing at the comedy acts...witnessing touching stories of sick children, some beating the odds, some, sadly, not...listening to Jerry Lewis' atrocious singing...and eagerly anticipating the dramatic updates on the donations counter.

I don't know why, but, it was fun.

We drank sodas...ate Easy Cheese on saltine crackers...popcorn...Doritos...Oreos and milk...and dipped graham crackers in Eagle Brand Milk.

I love this memory.

It was insignificant really. Hardly as memorable as prom night, or graduation, falling in love, or having a baby...but, this memory makes me warm.

I can't help but wonder what kind of mundane memories will remain in my children's heads long after their childhoods have passed.

This serves as a reminder that the birthdays and the Christmases are not the only days that they will recall, when they think on special days and memories from their childhood.

They will just as likely remember fondly the silly "favorite foods" game that we play at every family dinner. Or, the way the dog pounces on them, licking their faces, and stepping on their heads each morning, as he helps me wake them for school. Maybe they will remember that the only thing that will make Dad quit clanking his spoon on his coffee cup in the morning is to yell, "HI-YAAH," as loudly as they can. A silly thing Jake's grandfather used to do, that Jake remembers, and has chosed to carry on.

I wonder what they will remember...

You should see the other guy...

The kid started his day with a bicycle accident. He was riding his sister's bike, and I'm sure, for a boy, there is nothing more humiliating than flying face first into the pavement off of a seafoam green bike, with twinkly stars, and the word, "Starlet," written across it!!

He abandoned the bike, and dragged himself home, sweaty, wet with tears, and bleeding. Profusely. From the nose!! As we cleaned up the scrapes on his chin, lip, and cheek, and iced his puffy lip and nose, his sister watched quietly. When his wails had waned, Lily, literally adding insult to injury, said, "That's what you get for riding my bike."

After a snack and a little Scooby Doo, he was off again, only this time, on his own bike.

As the sun was setting, I honked the horn on the suburban...my signal for the kids to come home. As Jack approached me, I noticed his eye and face more swollen than the last time I'd seen it.

It was reported that Avery was dared to throw a stick at a wasps' nest, he did, and ran. Jack did not, and was stung just under his eye. I asked him what he did when the wasp stung him, and Jack said, "I screamed, Mom. It hurt. I wanted to say the F word sooooooo bad. Don't worry though, Mom, I didn't."

We don't call him "Bruiser," for nothing!

Vloggity, Vlog, Vlog...

I did a little impromptu vlog this morning, because I was...oh, inspired, I guess... Head over to Bubbles' place, Fort Thompson, if you wanna play along, and check out the other vloggers...

Without further adieu, I give you, "STFU!!"

The big O...

Ha! Got ya again, ya perverts! I'm talking about Obama, not the other, more pleasant, more satisfying and enjoyable "Big O."

I've seen a few debates going on, on Obama's upcoming speech to school children. Some parents are up on their hind legs, not wanting the POTUS speaking directly to their children. Some are launching a "National Keep Your Kid Outta School Day!"

Which, is HILARIOUS, to me, because, there is NOTHING that the big O could say to my kids, that would make me keep them home from school. I will lay my life on the line to protect my 7.5 glorious, golden hours of silence.

He can tell them that Santa isn't real...he can tell them where babies come from...and that, in fact, that's likely what Mom and Dad are doing when the bedroom door is locked, for all I care.

THEY'RE GOING TO SCHOOL, DAMMIT!

I have never been interested in politics. I wish I was, but, it bores me to bits. Each, and every election, I say, "This is the one I will follow, this is the one I will become involved in, this is the one where I will sit through an ENTIRE speech...whether it be before, during, or after the election."

Sadly, each election, I fail. I think Obama's acceptance of the nomination, has been the only one I've made it through. And...that was only because it was significantly historic...aaaaaand because I had teensy weensy shred of a morbid curiosity as to whether some back woods, rebel flag waving, racist would try to off him.

It really is something I'm ashamed of.

And...by that I mean, I'm ashamed that I'm not more interested...not, that I'm ashamed I sat through Obama's speech!!!

My point, and I think I have one...

I am 32 and, more often than not, those speeches go in one ear and out the other. Simply because I cannot force myself to be interested in politics. Despite my efforts.

If I, the grown ass woman that I am, feel this way, I'm not too concerned about my 10, 8, and 6 year olds becoming engrossed in the big guys' speech.

Sorry, Mr. President, but, they don't listen to a damned thing!! I'm sure your speech will be riveting, but, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say, that all they're gonna hear is, Wah-Wa-Waah..Wa-Waaaah...Wah-Wah-Wah.... But, hey, good luck with that!

And if it does interest them, and they hang on every word...then, I will be proud. I wish I had started learning about politics when I was younger. I would be more involved in it today, if I had. We live in a country run by politics, and agendas...it's just the way it is.

I think it's an opportunity for those so opposed to Obama to teach their kids, that even people who don't think the way they do, or have the same beliefs, and ideals...still deserve their respect. Whether that person happens to be the POTUS, or not!

IMO, this country is not in dire need of health care reform, or educational reform, or stiffer stances on gay marriage and abortion...Ms. Franklin hit the nail on the head, what this country needs most, is a little R.E.S.P.E.C.T!!

Oh...did you think I meant Ben's wife?

So, what is your take on the matter?

Old School...

Do you remember Kangaroos?

Those rad sneakers with a zipper pocket on the side?

I had a pair when I was a kid. Now, the girl has a pair, too.

But, just what do you keep in a pocket that size?? A dime? A bobby pin? What the hell is it for??