Labor & Delivery

Giving Birth is the Labor and delivery that is often thought of as the most painful aspect of parenting,
It hurts and you go into it KNOWING it's gonna hurt.

I recently realized that there is another labor and delivery in child rearing that is much harder and more painful.
It's the labor of raising them right, and delivery of letting them go out into the world with out you by their side.

Worker #2 graduated ARMY Boot-camp 2 weeks ago.

He came home for 5 days following graduation.
Then he left for his "home base" in Washington state, where he quickly found out he will deploy to Afghanistan in February.

This is where the mother in me freaks out!

It seems that literally overnight  you go from Mommy, who fixes things, kisses the boo-boo's, and makes sure her children are safe and sound at all times to someone who has no control or say-so in the well-being of her child.

You are expected to be standing on the sidelines, chest puffed out with pride, waving your American flag because your son is amazingly brave, he is patriotic, he is an American Soldier!

While I AM indeed So very proud of him.

I am also SO very scared.

Never... EVER has there been a time in his life with me that I haven't known where he was....
Never EVER has there been a time I didn't know he was ok...
He has never been somewhere that I could not contact him or call to make sure he was ok...
And.... Never EVER was someone actually shooting at him!

How am I supposed to do this?
How can things be ok?
How can we be a family with  one of us in harms way?
How will we laugh, knowing he might be "out there" somewhere scared?
How will we sleep without visions of what might be happening in some sandy place on the other side of the world at that very second?
How can everything go on as "usual" when I know my child is in danger?!?

How do I DO THIS?

THIS is the Labor and Delivery that really hurts!

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Should I Be Frightened?

When I was a child, I was creative.
That may not be the word my mother would choose to use for me,
But this is MY blog and I'll call me what I want!
So there!

Anyway...

I was a creative child, in other words...
I lied.

I lied... a lot!

Now.. before you shake your head in condemnation, let me explain...
I didn't lie to get myself out of trouble.
I didn't lie to get my brother into trouble.

I lied because life was, well... Boring!

When I was five, I informed the deacons wives group at our church that my parents were adopting a baby, My mother would be very very tired, so the baby would sleep in my room and I would take care of it.

Imagine my parents surprise when the pastor prayed for a smooth transition for our growing family during that Sundays service.

My mother was also not too impressed when everyone at the bank asked her how much fun she had on our family vacation to Hawaii in the dead of winter.

Then there were the escaped giraffes that I saw while riding home on the school bus.

Oh and the many many comical adventures of Bandit and Rose, my 3rd grade class gerbils.
You see, they got out all of the time.. and Oh the chaos and comedy that ensued was epic!

My mother was a little embarrassed at THAT teachers conference when she giggled about the rodent escapades.

While my lies were plentiful, they were, relatively harmless.
You see...  It wasn't MY fault life was a little dull.
I couldn't help it that, when my parents asked me,
"What happened at school today?" I didn't want to bore them with the usual responses of "Nothin" that every other kid told their parents.
I was only thinking of them!
I was being a GOOD child wanting their lives to have a little more "color"!

Flash-forward 30 years.....
The Little-Foreman-in-Pink went to spend the week-end with my mother.

 Before they even made it to her house, my Mother called me...
"This IS your child!" she said, with an evil laugh.

Apparently, The Little-Foreman-in-Pink is terribly allergic to raccoons...
She was bitten three times on the leg by a raccoon...
But Don't tell Mommy!.... 
Because she is all better now, just as long as the raccoons stay away from her.


I think I can still hear my mother cackling at the thought of the sweet revenge that MY daughter will bring upon me.

I don't think that was very nice!

And...
I think I'm a little scared.

Pray for me...
Or send Cheesecake!

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Coward

I'm not a squeamish kinda gal.
I don't get grossed out too easily.
I've actually held a beating heart while it was still in a mans chest.
I've cleaned up gallons of vomit.
I've carefully taped a Dixie cup over a child's protruding eyeball.
I've helped birth babies.
I've placed severed fingers into a Ziplock baggie.
I've reached into a goat to reposition babies for birth.
I've doctored compound fractures.

And I did each of these things without passing out.
Without tossing my cookies.
I did them with a calm confidence.
I didn't run away in fear.
I didn't cringe.

Tonight I had to face something that made me cringe.
Something that paralyzed me.
Something that made me freeze and lose all confidence.

The Little-Foreman-in-Pink came to me with an incredibly wobbly-loose-floppy tooth.
"Mommy?" she asked, "Will you pull out my toof?"
I froze.
I couldn't do it.
My little girl asked me to do something to help her, and I just couldn't do it.
You see...
I'm great at taking care of things after it happens,
But I cannot stand to actually see the trauma happen.
I would have no problem wiping the blood from her lip after she lost her tooth.
I'd even give her an ice pop to ease the ache.
But to be the one pulling it out?
Nope. can't do it.

So...  I did what any good mommy would do.
I called in her big brother.
This is my HUGE 18yr old who can't hear the dog puke in the next room without running for the bathroom to throw up himself.
This is the boy who has paid his brother $10 to pick up cat poop because it's "gross".

But to actually CAUSE trauma or pain?
He's all over it!

He was so excited that he even made his own special tooth-pullin tool!
(needle-nose pliers wrapped w/ electrical tape to provide traction against the slippery tooth.)

The Little-Foreman-in-Pink was a trooper!
She didn't flinch.
She didn't have a clue what she was getting herself into!

She had a smile on her face the whole time!
I was the one behind the camera whimpering and jumping each time he came near her with his device of torture!

"PLUCK"  it came out that easy.
No screaming.
No crying.
Nothing....

She is such a brave little thing!
Unlike her mother...

Who let this teeny-tiny little thing freeze her in fear.

... I rock!

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Boo Boos, Band-aids, and a Bad Mom.. Oh My!

Have I mentioned that I am the mother of a dare-devil?
Have I mentioned that he tends to do stupid and dangerous things?
Have I mentioned that he gives no thought to the consequences of his stupid actions?

No?
Well I am.
Worker #2 is 18yrs old and he is this dare-devil.

If it can drive, he'll find a way to make it go faster.
If it can fall, He'll find a way to make it fall faster from further off of the ground.
If it can jump, he'll find a way to make it jump further.
If I have a gray hair, he's gonna be sure to give me a million more!

This is the same child who wrecked a 4-wheeler (and his shoulder) while trying to jump a ditch.
This is the same child who has a scar from playing "catch" with a brick.
This is the same child who has scars from banging root beer bottles together trying to make "music".
I could go on and on...

Well this weekend, we went to the lake.
Saturday evening he came limping up the the campsite.
He was bleeding..  He has road rash all over the left side of his body!
He was a mess!

As I was cleaning up his wounds he explained to me that he was running behind his brothers truck trying to beat him to the pool, wearing flip-flops, down a hill and he fell.
Ugh! We laughed at his stupidity for running in flip-flops on a hill and he limped away.

The next day, I has spent the morning riding my jet ski.
I was towing it out of the lake, when my 11yr old (Worker #4) asked if he could ride on the jet ski  back to the camp site.
Worker #2 went into the game room to play video games.
The Little-Foreman-in-Pink was in the truck, as was Worker #3.
"Sure", I said...  I was only driving up the hill to our site. It was safely secured to it's trailer and I would not pull it fast through camp.

I made sure I was watching  Worker #4 to make sure he was holding on tight to the handle bars of the jet ski, as I pulled out, (I may or may not have gunned it a tiny bit to freak the boy out just a little bit).
His eyes got HUGE and he screamed as I watched a green flash fall to the ground.

It seems worker #2 (wearing all green) had somehow, unnoticed by me ran up to the truck and sat on the corner of the tailgate.

When I moved the truck, I was watching worker #4 on the jet ski and never saw him.
He fell from the tailgate and under the tires of the jet ski trailer!!
 I ran over my kid!
And now...  his right side matches his left side... totally skinless and full of road-rash.

I felt terrible!
I was terrified!
So was worker #4, he was certain he was running over his big brother and killing him.

I took the bleeding child up to the camp site and began cleaning his fresh wounds when Worker #1 walked up and heard what happened.

"Mom" he said...
"I guess the statute of limitations doesn't really matter anymore"... 
I had no idea what he was talking about.

The two stupid 18yr old boys explained...
The night before....  when worker #2 "fell" while running down the hill in flip-flops?
Apparently, he was riding the back of his brothers truck and fell off as they drove down the hill!!!

Two days in a row this brillient child was thrown from the back of a truck!
And yet...  he lived.

He better be careful because I've always heard these things happen in three's...
and if he EVER gets on the back of a truck again....
He won't have to worry about falling off and getting hurt!
I'll take care of it with my bare hands!

UGH!
Teenage Boys!!!

I've gotta go color the newly-sprouted gray hairs that are on my head...
Bye.

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Picking up the Gauntlet

I have a lot of kids.

The secret to having this many kids and not totally losing your mind, is to keep a sense of humor.
Every now and then my sense of humor is noticed and appreciated by others.
Last week 2 of the boys missed school.

I was informed by the attendance office lady that she fondly remembers the excuse I wrote for worker #1 THREE years ago on a day when he was sick.
(I don't remember the exact wording of that note, but I do know It mentioned explosive diarrhea.)
The attendance office lady informed me that note made her day and she demanded the note I send for these most recent absences be even better.

Well... anyone who knows me is aware of the fact that I simply cannot back down from a challenge.
The gauntlet was thrown down....  Of course I HAD to pick it up.

The following notes are being turned in tomorrow.

----------------------------------------------------------------
Bryan G. was absent Friday Oct 1, 2010, due to the fact that he acquired a case of food poisoning from some questionable seafood at one of our local Mexican restaurants…
I mean, what was the kid thinking? Who orders shrimp from a little Mexican restaurant expecting to come out of it safe and sound? I guess I raised myself quite a gambler in this child.

I considered sending him anyway, as a punishment for such poor food-ordering skills, but I thought that DISD would frown upon him attending class sitting on the toilet whilst holding a trash can.

If the school requires proof of Bryan’s illness, let me know, I’m sure there are still some little shrimpy chunks I missed while cleaning the bathroom walls after his numerous bouts of projectile vomiting.

Thank You.
Dana Clover
------------------------------------------------------------------

Craig was absent Tuesday Sept 28th due to being required to appear in court. The state of Texas requested his presence in a paternity case because his biological father conveniently forgot that he lived with, was engaged to, or even knew his mother at the time of his conception.

Craig would have gladly missed this court date to continue to receive instruction at DHS, had the court not required him to be present when his biological father was humiliated and proven a liar in front of a room-full of strangers by the Great State of Texas.

Craig should not miss any more days due to this case, because his presence is not required at the remainder of the court dates when his mother sues the tar out of his biological father for back support… She will have to celebrate those victories by herself instead of eating ice cream and giggling uncontrollably with Craig.

If proof is needed, the court case is = #0012251506

Thank you.
Dana Clover
------------------------------------------------------
I hope the attendance office lady approves.

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The Moment of Truth.

Tomorrow is our big court date.
If you don't have a clue what I'm talking about, you might wanna read this post and get up to speed.

Tomorrow the results of our paternity test will be announced and the judge will make a decision about what happens next.
C and I have no doubt what the results are. 
But we are still nervous.

C is nervous because he hopes that Fred will actually show up and not just send his lawyer in his place.
He wants to look this man in the eye.
He wants to stand tall and proud as if to show him .. "Look at what you missed out on."
He wants to hear his voice.
He wants to search this stranger-of-a-man and see if there is anything familiar there.
He wants to add a face, a voice, a look, a personality, anything, to this faceless entity he knows is his "father".
He wants to know if the eyes, that look just like his, will look back at him filled with anger, or remorse, or indifference.
He wants and he deserves all of these things.

I am also nervous.
I am nervous about what my response will be if Fred approaches me.
Will I stand strong and say what has been in my head for 19 years if he comes to me in anger?
Will I say everything I want to make sure I say if he comes to me and is humble?
Will I hold steady and not look away when our eyes meet?
Will I hold my tongue and act like an adult?
Will I be able to fight back the tears when, finally the truth is public?
I don't know the answers to any of these things.

I do know that this emotional roller coaster is fixing to come to an end for me.
And I do know that it's just getting started for my son.

When I think of this fact, my nerves are calmed.
The Mama Bear in me comes out.
And Mama Bear does Not cower or back down when it comes to protecting her cubs.

Nobody better poke Mama Bear or her cub..... it could get ugly if they do.

More soon......


 

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Growing Pains

Mine....
Not hers.....


Big Girl Bike! from Dana Clover on Vimeo.

My Baby is growing up!!
I may need cheesecake....
I may need a stiff drink....
I may need therapy...
*sob*

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Fear.. GONE!!

This week has been a biggie for this little girl.
She had her first real big girl dentist apointment.

She had been to the dentist for cleanings and sealants etc...
But this visit was for a cavity and tooth extraction.
Oh Boy!
The big problem is...
The dentist who did her cleanings managed to pretty much scare the tar out of my girl.
When I realized she was having tooth trouble, I set out to find a child friendly dentist.
I finally found a fantastic pediatric dental group who promised me that she would be happy and so would I.

This dental group believes in never letting a child get scared in the first place.
This sounded good to me, because I am not someone who loves the dentist! (thats putting is very VERY lightly)
The day of the procedure, we got up and went to the dentist office early.
We walked into the bright and cheerful playroom.
They weighed her then let her pick her favorite flavor of sno-cone syrup.
She chose watermelon, the syrup is what they mix the medication with so it tastes good. Brilliant!!
They gave her a cocktail of medications to help her be calm and sleepy and sent us into the playroom for 45min.

She watched Disney movies and played with the toys for about 20 min....
Then the meds kicked in...
I watched my sweet baby girl become increasingly drunk.
The bead table that she played with for the first 20 min became too difficult for her to navigate.
Her eyelids became heavy.
Her speech was slurred.
She walked like a drunk.
I, being the wonderful mother that I am, found this to be hilarious!

I seriously had tears rolling down my cheeks watching these poor little drunk children bump into each other and giggle uncontrollably.

The nurse came and escorted my stumbling-drunk baby to the back.
Less than 20 minutes later she emerged smiling from ear to ear, clutching fistfulls of Hanna Montana and Sponge Bob stickers, with a hunk of gauze sticking out of her mouth.

"Mommy?... Can we stay at the dentist?" was the first thing she asked when she saw me.
These people know what they are doing!

My 6yr old daughter now loves the dentist!
And...  I guess I would too if they gave me the "good stuff" every time I went!

As you can see by her pictures....
She didn't quite get the hang of closing her mouth when she had a totally numb lip...  she kinda chewed it up and gave herself a fat lip.  Aside from that, she came through it like a champ.
And getting her first visit from the Tooth Fairy was an added bonus in her book!

Now...  where can Mommy find a dentist like hers to work on her teeth?

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Why?

As a Mother, I find my self asking "Why" a lot...
a REALLY Lot!

For instance....

1.) Why does my teenage boys bedroom smell like egg salad?

2.) Why does the Little-Foreman-in-Pink think it's a super-duper-cool trick to lick her arm-pit.

2.5.) Why would she ever try to do it in the first place?

3.) Why are farts so funny? (seriously! out of all the bodily functions to find hilarious, why is it the fart? Why don't they burst into laughter when someone sneezes,or snarf milk out of their noses when someone coughs?? why the fart??? huh?? WHY???)

4.) Why did it take me over an hour and the use of a metal putty knife to remove cement-like dried boogers off of their bedroom wall before I could paint it?

5.) Skid Marks... WHY? ...enough said.

6.) Why does Brutus the English Bulldog sleep in this disturbing pose? (that Can't be comfortable!)

7.) Why did I just find 14 shriveled up and dried pepperoni under the stove? (pepperoni? Pepperonies?)

8.) Why do the same boys who, when they were 4, loathed nap-time now want to sleep all day that they are teens?

9.) Why can they remember that time in 2001 when I accidentally may or may not have forgotten to pick them up from school on time, But cannot remember that I told them to take out the trash 72 times??

10.) Why has one bottle of shampoo lasted for over 6 months in a bathroom shared by 4 boys?

Why?

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Fearless.

See this sweet girl?...
She is my baby.
She is the end of the line.
She is my only girl.
She was my only chance at having something soft and sweet and "girl'ish".

From the day she was born, this little pink thing has never been afraid of anything.

She climbed before she walked.
She dove before she swam.
She ran fast into un-known places.
She has always been fearless.

Last week-end, we went to the lake.
We brought out the tube we use to pull the boys at gut-wrenching speeds across the water with the boat.


The tube that has made more than one male puke his guts out.
The tube that has made grown men scream like little school-girls.

THIS tube...
We couldn't take the begging any longer, so we decided to let her give "The Tube" a try.
She went with Daddy, and we decided we would tow her around and a nice slow fun pace...

"Faster Mommy!" she screamed...
So, I went a little faster...


"Bumpier Mommy!!" She screamed...
So, being a good mother, I made a few bigger waves...

Once I was able to regain my composure from laughing so hard at the fact that her Daddy almost flipped out of "The Tube" while our little girl held strong,
I decided they had enough.

She didn't want to stop.
She was furious when it got dark and we had to put away "The Tube".
She out-rode her daddy.
She out-lasted her brothers.
She would still be on that dang tube if I didn't force her to come in out of the water!

... I thought my boys were gonna be the ones who gave me the gray hairs and worry lines....
I may have underestimated Girl-Power.

... sigh...

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Suck It Up...

"Suck it Up" is what I told him when he said he wanted to sit on the bench the rest of the game.

It was a hot, sweltering, Hell-like 100 degrees outside.

They were not having a good game,
It just wasn't their night,
There were errors, and just plain old bad luck running rampant on that baseball field,
It was the first time they were getting beat BAD this season.
It was NOT one of their funner games.

"Suck it Up" was what I told him when he told me his hand hurt when he batted.
This came after I watched him play all day with no pain what-so-ever.

"You play in in the bad games just like you do win your winning... Go Play!"

"Suck It Up" is what I told him when he said he wanted to go home.
"The game is almost over, we'll do better Monday baby.. hang in there."

"Suck It Up" is what I told him when I dropped him off at the end of the driveway when we got home and told him to bring the trash-cans down the long driveway to the house.

"It's amazing how your hand only hurts when you don't want to do something and it's fine when you are getting your way."

"Suck it Up" is what I told him 2 hours later in the ER when he couldn't pick out a cool color for his cast that was now on his Fractured Thumb!

"Suck It Up" is what I'm telling him today when he points out that if he would have been born to a Good Mother, she would have taken his pain a little more seriously.

... I suck.

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The Cure!!!!! (re-do)

Having a medical background, I am not one to take other peoples' medical issues lightly.

Something that I may find merely an occasional annoyance may be someone's daily torture.

For example...
Seeing someone at the pool with a third nipple may cause some people to point and laugh.
Not me! I feel for the third-nipple-haver,
I wish I could help them,
I wish I could take away all the unwanted and un-kind stares from strangers.
I wish I could bring them peace.
I would want to be their friend.

What about those poor souls who are cursed with excessive ear wax production?
They endure years of "taters in yer ears" jokes.
Kids pick on them because excessive ear wax equals cooties to school-aged children.
I just wanna scoop them up in a warm hug, dry their tears and offer them a Q-Tip.

Or...
Some people may find the topic of constipation laugh-worthy.
I, for one, know it is no laughing matter!

As a matter of fact, I have found the cure for constipation!
Thats right!! I said CURE!

I have the cure for any case of constipation right here in my little old farm house.
The cure can be found in my kitchen!
I have observed its magical powers for almost 7 years.

I have decided to share this knowledge with everyone out in Internet-Land.
Ready?

Come clean my kitchen!

You read it right.
Come clean my kitchen and even the most difficult clogs will quickly become... well... unclogged!

It never fails.
Every time I ask one of my young-men-folk to clean the kitchen, within 5 minutes they are in the restroom!
I'm not talking about a quick trip either!
They are in there for a loooong cleansing time!

Here is what I am offering...
We can work out a deal...
Bring me your clogged bowels...
I'll bring you speedy relief and get a clean kitchen to boot!

And don't worry...
I won't snicker or giggle...
I just might hug you!

Deal?

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please Please PLEASE explain this to me...

Why for the love of all that is Pretty, Fluffy, and Good in this World do they feel the need to tap me???

When I'm on the phone....
tap, tap, tap...

When I'm talking to someone...
Tap, Tap, Tap...

When I'm at the store check-out...
TAP, TAP, TAP...

Do they think I don't know they are standing there trying to get my attention?

Do they really think there is a chance I have forgotten they need a cookie, or a drink, or a crayon, Right This Very Second????

Will the World stop spinning and explode if they have to stand there quietly for one stinking second to wait for me to finish my thought????

If I'm busy, do they REALLY think tapping on my arm or leg, or stomach is gonna help me finish quicker???

WHY Must They Tap Me??????

that is all....

Thank-You-Very-Much.

(this post was sponsored by the "Please Stops Tapping Mommy Before Her Eye Explodes!" Society. )

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A Big Step.

Remember this post?
Well.. the saga continues….

My Son “C” is growing into such a fine young man.
I am so proud to be able to call this amazing creature my son.
He is a senior in High School.
He works at the University of Texas each summer.
He is loyal and fiercely protective of those he loves.
He is kind-hearted, gentle, goofy, and, at 6’ 4” he’s HUGE!
He will be 18yrs old in 8 days…

While he is a well-adjusted young man, he still is searching…
He is searching for who he is…
He is searching for where he came from…
He is searching for his roots…
He is searching for his family.

After 16 years of nothing, he finally had some contact with his biological father.
They exchanged a few e-mails and several text messages.
C was thrilled!
He has so many questions and longs for some connection, no matter how small, to that side of his family.
He was ecstatic when he even found one of his aunts on a social networking site.

He introduced himself, and they chatted for a bit.
She was gracious and kind to him.
She was shocked to find out she had a nephew that she didn’t even know existed.
C was on cloud 9 knowing that he was making connection with the other side of his family and he really looked forward to their little chats.
She was surprised when she saw his pictures and she saw for herself the strong family resemblance C had to his father.
Understandably, she needed to talk to her brother, she now had questions too.
She was worried about her other nephew, C’s half-brother, who also has no idea he has an older brother.

Fred, was less than impressed that C tracked down his little sister.
He was down-right angry about it.
Apparently, this was not a secret that he wanted revealed.
He scolded C for contacting her.

Then all conversations stopped.
I can only assume that when asked, Fred denied that C was his son.
It is understandable that a sister would believe her brother over some strange kid who contacted her out of the blue.
So C found himself back at square one.

When Fred and I ended our relationship many many years ago, I know that he fabricated many stories about me to explain the break-up….
I was unfaithful,
I was “with” several of his friends,
I could not be trusted, etc… etc… etc…

None of these stories were even remotely true, but I guess it was his way to explain things to his family in a way that they would never ask about me again and believe him when he said that the growing life inside me was not his.
It was his way to hide his secret…
The secret that he was going to be a father…
His secret son…

I’m sure he thought he could go on with his life and. If he ignored it, it would go away…
The only thing I ever asked.. no, I demanded, was that he never hurt C.

The last words typed between C and Fred was Him telling C to "leave Me Alone" Because he didn't want any "trouble".

In the past 19 years Fred has never denied or even questioned his paternity to myself or to C.
He even sent C a letter apologizing for “16 years of nothing”.
But, it seems it’s a different story to everyone else in his life.

C is hurt.
No… he is devastated knowing that he was so close to having some answers, some connection to his roots, his family, and now they are gone.

This is where I step in.
This is where I fix something that should have been fixed many many years ago.
This is where Mamma Bear protects the tender heart of her young.
This is when I give C proof to show his new-found family that he is one of them.

I have set things in motion to end any questions.
To clear up any doubt that C is indeed Fred’s son.
I have no doubt.
C has no doubt.
And Fred, in a corner of his heart that he chose to keep secret has no doubt.
Now the rest of his family will have no doubt either.

The following weeks and months will be spent in court, in paternity testing offices, and, I’m sure there will be some extremely angry words spoken.
Fred will no longer be able to run from his secrets and untruths.
I’m sure it will be unpleasant for him.
He will have some difficult questions to answer to many people in his life.

But, in the end, C will get what he deserves.

You see… in my opinion, this has very little to do with Fred.
Fred had his chance and he tossed it away like a crumpled up piece of garbage.
Fred doesn’t deserve to know C.
Fred doesn’t deserve to have any part in this amazing young man’s life.
Fred did not earn his love, his respect or the title of Parent.
Fred has never helped with C.
Fred has, by choice, ignored his very existence.
Fred does NOT deserve C.

But…

C deserves answers.
C deserves to know where he comes from.
C deserves to be a part of his entire family.
C deserves the world…

And I’m gonna do whatever it takes to get my son what he deserves.

The most important thing is to establish paternity legally, so C has something to prove who he is and hopefully be accepted into his extended family.

You can only run from the truth for so long, before it comes back to bite you in the butt.
In the end…. It will be worth it all to see my son get what he rightly deserves.
And to see him have the sense of satisfaction, knowing that he is not a dirty little secret.

I hope and pray that he is welcomed with kindness and understanding into his new family.
It is the least that he deserves…

All I can say is, hang on…
It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.

UPDATE HERE 8/27/2010

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How To Study Like a 17 Year Old Boy.

How To Study For a Test.

Like a 17 year old boy.

1.) Walk into the house and loudly announce "I have a BIG test tomorrow. I will be studying all evening. No time for chores."

2.) Stomp loudly when you are walking to the door to feed the animals because your horrible mother told you to do the chores anyway.
**Be sure to mutter something about it being her fault if you fail the test, can't get into a good college, can't get a good job to make money, and HER grandchildren have to live under a bridge, before you close the door.**

3.) Come in from doing your chores, plop down on the couch and flip on the TV.

4.) Practice your deep breathing so you can perform the worlds longest & loudest sigh when your wicked mother reminds you that you said you needed to study.

5.) Gather up your books and go into your room and sit at your desk to study.

6.) Go into the kitchen to get a drink.

7.) Return to your desk to study.

8.) Go to the bathroom and stay in there for 112 minutes doing God-knows-what.

9.) Return to your desk to study.

10.) Decide it is too quiet and turn on the radio.

11.) Go into the kitchen to get another drink.

12.) Return to your desk to study .

13.) Open your notebook to find a note from your girlfriend, read it 7 times and smell it 16 times.

14.) Go to the bathroom and stay in there for 73 minutes doing God-knows-what.

15.) Return to your desk to study.

16.) Flip through all 97 radio stations looking for one that is playing a song you like.

17.) Preform an amazing air guitar solo and bow to your invisible fans.

18.) Dig in your backpack looking for a pencil.

19.) Go into your brothers room to ask to borrow a pencil.

20.) Put your brother into a sleeper hold and make a bet that he can't get loose from your Grip-of-Death before passing out, squeeze him so hard that he farts.
Run out of his room before the cloud of gas kills you, making sure to knock at least two pictures off of the wall in the hallway as you fly by.

21.) Return to your desk to study.

22.) Open your text book.

23.) Go to the dining room and eat dinner... twice.

24.) Return to your desk to study.

25.) Announce that your eyes are getting tired, and hop into the shower.

26.) Return to your desk to study.

27.) Go into the kitchen for a drink.

28.) Return to your desk to study.

29.) Text your girlfriend 62 text messages.

30.) Play the drums along with your favorite song on the radio using the 2 pencils you stole from your brother for drum sticks.

31.) Turn off the light and go to sleep.

I wonder how they'll do on the test tomorrow??
I'll keep ya posted.

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WHAT?!?!?

Mommy.... Mom.. Mom... Mommy... Mommy... Mom... Mommy... Mom...Mom...Mommy... Mom...Mom Mommy... Mooooooom.... Mommyyyyyyy!... Mom... mom... Mommy... Mommy...

(insert mind-blowing-super-fast-Makes-my-eye-twitch- tapping on my thigh)

Mom... Mommy... Mom... Mom... Mommy.. Mom... Mom... Mommy... Mommy... Mommy... Mom... Mommy Mom mom Mommy.....

Yeah... This is gonna be a GREAT day!
... How is YOUR day going?

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Until I Became a Mother...

There were many things that I took for Granted.

1.) Spontaneity...

BK (before kids), I could hop in the car and go where ever I wanted, Whenever I wanted. Out of milk? Run and go pick some up! Feel like a going to a midnight showing of a great movie? Cool! Lets go! Feel like eating a pint of ice cream for dinner? Bring it on!
AK (after kids) It's, Where is the diaper bag? Is it nap time? Will they be cranky? Do I have bottles? Will I be home before their bedtime? Am I meeting their nutritional needs? Did everybody go potty?
There are NO easy quick trips anymore.

2.) Privacy...

Oh where do I begin?!
The bathroom, yes! The bathroom. Do you know it's been 14 years? FOURTEEN Stinkin years since I've gone to the bathroom uninterrupted. Gone are the quiet private times spent in the bathroom... Now it's "Mommy! Can you see my fingers under the door?" "Mom! Where are you?" "Mom! I can't find my brush!" "Mommy, are you going Poopy or Potty?" "Mommy, Your a big girl! Good Job!".
**sigh**

3.) Phone Conversations...

When I was a teenager (Way BK) I could spend hours on end talking to my BFF, Marlene. We would have long conversations about nothing... and everything.
Now (AK), Being on the phone instantly sets off a chain reaction of crisis moments, questions, and fights. I can't be on the phone for five minutes without someone or something interrupting me. **ugh**

4.) Warm Food...

I never realized how much better food is when you eat it while it's warm! It's been so long since I had a warm meal... Now I'm too busy filling plates, cutting meat into bite sized pieces, pouring drinks, and settling everyone down for the meal, that my food is ice-cold before I get to touch it.


5.) Smelling, and Looking Nice...

Oh the days that I used to actually look and smell nice! I took those days for granted.
There used to be a time (BK) that I wouldn't leave the house without my hair done and make-up perfectly applied. Now, I'm lucky if I have on matching shoes!
And smelling? well... It wasn't until I had kids that I started to view a morning shower as a luxury! I've gone from smelling like spring flowers to smelling like sour breast-milk, to smelling like a dirty sweat sock!
There are actually some days when I glance in the mirror before falling into bed, only to realize that I haven't looked in a mirror all day long! Not a pretty sight! trust me!


6.) Peace...

Between the music blaring, video games booming, little girls giggling, clumsy boys running, doors slamming, dogs barking, cows moo'ing, impromptu WWE SMACKDOWN fighting, TV's playing, teenagers farting, belching, etc... etc... etc... there is never.. EVER a moments peace... Ever!


7.) My Mother...

I realize now, that my mother is a Saint! She handled all of the crap that her children gave her, all the hardships and trials we brought to her, with so much more grace and dignity than I can imagine.
I don't know how she did it and ended up sane by the time we became adults! Lord knows I'm nowhere near sane! And I have a long way to go before my kids are grown!

Want proof on my mental instability?
Look at my list!
All of the things I complain about.
All my gripes.
All my ranting...

And I wouldn't change a thing!
... If THATS not crazy I don't know what is!

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It ain't getting easier

When I had my first child,
The endless nights with no sleep as we went through colic were hard.
The sleep deprivation was hard.
The constant worry, wondering if I was doing everything right was hard.

As my children got older...
The teaching was hard.
The dealing with snarky attitudes was hard.
The worry as they gained some independence was hard.

Now that my oldest is 17, I am realizing that this parenting thing doesn't get any easier.
As a matter of fact, this newest challenge may be one of the hardest so far.

See this cute couple?

This is Worker #1 and his girlfriend of 2+ years "M".
They are young and in love.
They spend every waking minute together or at least thinking of each other.

They are adorable together.
They make a really sweet couple.
As his mother, I couldn't have hand picked a better girl to be his first love.

But today, they are both devastated.
You see...
Today "M" moved to Pennsylvania.
It was a very sudden change of events.
They found out Thursday afternoon that she would be leaving on Sunday.

It's been a very difficult few days, filled with sadness and tears, promises, and good-byes.
We are all sad and will miss "M" deeply.

But...
I am realizing that trying to comfort your child through his first heartbreak is one of the hardest things I have had to do as a parent thus far.

I miss the days when My magic kiss could make things all better.
I miss being able to "fix" things.
I miss the days when my love was enough to bring him joy.

When my mother told me things like, I wish it were me hurting and not you....
She meant it!
I would gladly have it be my heart broken than his.

I have no words to make him feel better.
My hug isn't enough.
Only time will help heal this wound.

This parenting thing stinks sometimes!

Add one more thing to the list of
"Things they didn't tell me when I had a baby!"

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Why I look like this!

You know...
I used to consider myself a pretty cute gal.
I used to at least LOOK like I had it together.

My hair was "done"..
I used to wear neatly-applied make-up.
My shirts were stain-free.
I had no wrinkles between my eyebrows. (that were neatly plucked by the way!).
I used to speak in complete sentences.
I used to leave my house.
My shoes matched.
My socks matched.

But that was before I had children.
More exactly, that was before I had TEENAGERS!

Now I look like this picture.
I have a perma-look of bewilderment and shock on my face.
I have those deep mean-looking, I'm-gonna-kill-you-wrinkles between my eyebrows.
My hair resembles Medusa more than a fashion model.
I'm wearing stretched-out yoga pants and a baggy T-shirt, Crocks on my feet, and NO jewelry.
My poor saggin-from-birthin-all-them-babies-body is slower and fatter.
My once sharp-as-a-tack mind now spends it's days wondering how in the heck I got here.

It's not time that changed me.
It's not old age settling in.
It's the Teenagers!
The teststerone-filled-snarky-farting, knowing-more-than-me-because-I-am-a-stupid-idiot, teenagers!

The teenagers who do things like THIS.
The teenagers who are convinced that I suddenly am dumber than dirt.
The teenagers who's heads are firmly planted up their girlfriends backside.
The teenagers who eat too much, drive too fast, and fart too smelly.
The teenagers who are taller than me.
The teenagers who think they can use their size as an advantage.
The teenagers who play ,what they call, music too loud.

Can I sue them?
Can I force them to fund my plastic surgery?
Can I at least make them liable for the years and years of therapy that I will most certainly need soon?

Is there a lawyer in the house?
Call me!

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I could have smoked CRACK when I was pregnant!

But...
... I didn't.

Why??
Because I was worried I would scramble their precious little brains.

I didn't wanna scramble their brains.
I wanted their brains to have the best possible chance at being "normal".

And yet....
They are not.

The amount of DUMB that a teenage boys body can hold astounds me.
Every stinkin day they give me more reasons to shake my head in disbelief because of something they do, or something they say, or something they try.
It NEVER ends!

Today is a perfect example....

Scrambled son #3 walks into the house and calmly asks...
"Mom, is that table against the back of the house supposed to be on fire?"

me - "WHAT!?!?!?"

him- "The table against the back wall of the house.. it has BIG fire on it."

Me- running hysterically to put out the HUGE fire reaching above the roof of the house.

Scrambled son #1 casually walks out of the house, see's his hose wielding mother frantically putting out the fire and screaming at everyone asking what in the @$(*% happened to start a fire on the table that is ACTUALLY touching they house and says...
"Oops, My Bad. I lit a campfire starter and set it on the table and forgot it."

Ummm MY BAD???
You almost burnt down the house, and all you can say is MY BAD???
MY BAD???

Are You Kidding ME????

my 17 year old son... (sorry, I'm having a hard time even TYPING this, because of the stupidity it involves)... set an incendiary device on a fiberglass table that is sitting against the wall of our wooden house, and walked away!!!

MY BAD???

So, you see, I COULD have smoked crack and gotten the same results!

Parenting Teens.... is NOT for the weak!



p.s. - I am no way no how making light of what they call "crack babies" and/or any baby born with complications due to illegal drug abuse during pregnancy.

p.s.s - It's a rant.... I could have said Opium... or Shrooms.... or Acid..... insert any non-upsetting to you illegal drug you'd like.

p.s.s.s. - these p.s's are an attempt to save the fingers of those who will send hate mail. ThankYouVeryMuch.

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