Friday, October 23, 2009

A word to the wise:

If mama ain't happy. Ain't NOBODY happy.

This is a really simple phrase that you'd think even the most dense (or in the case of children, ignorant) person could grasp.

If you piss of the person who makes your food? They might just not feed you...or fold your clothes.

I've been trying to hold down the fort as a "stay at home mom" (not something I ever saw myself doing, and I admittedly SUCK at it by all accounts.) but at least I'm TRYING dangit. I cook, I wash the clothes.

Do they all get put away pretty and neat? Well...everyone but ME gets their clothes put away pretty and neat.

Do you eat on dirty dishes? may have to pull them out of the dish drain, but they are clean dangit.

Do you have to eat crap every night? get a damn good homemade meal 5 nights a week, with two nights usually reserved for leftovers because I hate wasting food.

So why is everyone in this house making me feel useless? I'm NOT June Cleaver. I'm not perfect, and I shouldn't HAVE to be. I do my best, and everyone gets taken care of.

And that should be the END of THAT discussion. (hmph)

Being Pregnant Sucks.

I know there are women out there who ADORE being pregnant... who just love every minute of this blessed changing of their bodies.

I ain't one of em'.

I hated it my first baby and I'm not diggin it so much the second go round either...

First pregnancy:

Sick. As. A. Dog. for six friggin months. Every meal, no matter what I ate. I couldn't keep down so much as a saltine. The only upside to this was that I didn't gain a disproportionate amount of weight. The down side to THAT was I was constantly being harrassed by people, doctor included...

"You should eat more, you're eating for two..."
"That baby is going to come out malnourished, you should eat more"
"You can't POSSIBLY be six months pregnant, you've LOST weight, you should eat more..."
"Don't be so vain" (@#!$%*)

Seriously spent most of the time wanting to slap people. (And for what it's worth? I GAINED weight, just not a LOT, and I definately gained a belly...and she did JUST fine...she just wouldn't let me eat a damn thing!)

This pregnancy started out DREAMLIKE by comparison. Had about a month and a half of morning sickness, where again I lost some weight, but nothing major. Doc put me on some anti-hurl meds that helped a lot.

I had some issues with my knee, but it's not the babies fault I'm arthritic. So that's that.

Then there was the month of which I could take little to nothing to make myself feel better.
(Rule number one of being pregnant: no meds unless absolutely necessary, and nothing other than tylenol at that.)

That sucked, a lot.

And now...the mystery cramping. I ended up in the hospital earlier this week because of mystery cramps, down low. Not from the baby...I was pretty sure since it was hanging out in there like a jumping bean the whole time, that the baby was just fine. But something else. Something quite painful.

Doc ordered me to the hospital. So I went.

Hospital bascially told me that since the baby was, in fact, fine, to go home and drink water and deal.

ugh Two days later, I'm still cramping, still in a lot of pain, and still have no explaination as to WHY and NO ONE CARES OR WILL DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT.

And I hate how people treat you like a first timer and start talking about the difference between "True Labor" and "False Labor" like you're a moron.

K...this ain't my first rodeo. Last time, I tolerated being talked down to because it was new to me and I honestly had never heard of a "braxton hicks" contraction in my LIFE...but this time?

I was WELL aware I wasn't in labor. More than aware of it...I was quite specific in my request that they a) check on the baby and b) determine what was ACTUALLY causing the pain...

and got a lecture on true labor.


I hate being pregnant...then after we come home and I get a twenty minute lecture from my man about "taking better care of mysefl" (and blah blah blah) I've had to put up with him babysitting my water intake for the last two days (please)

and no coffee and soda is making me a real bitch.

Lets not forget the OTHER parts of being pregnant no one tells you about:

Not every pregnant woman is a horndog. In fact for most women? Sex is the absolute LAST thing on our minds. You think this sucks for us? Talk to our poor husbands. They are the ones who have to deal with moody, crampy, bloated, unhappy unhorny wives who can't even have a SODA! ugh...poor bastards.

Constipation: Really? Need I say more?
(*this is usually followed by)
Hemmroids: Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
Heartburn: But usually only when it comes to foods you really your morning cup of joe...
Vag Issues: and there are PLENTY when you are pregnant... I won't get into details...because Lord knows I don't want to relive it here in a few weeks...


and I want coffee. Hmph.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

The REAL Weapons of Mass Destruction:

In this day in age we have a lot to worry about it seems. Between ongoing wars, and all the political upheaval in this day and age...there are a lot of distractions...

and that is EXACTLY WHAT THE ENEMY WANTS....for you to be DISTRACTED... why? Because little do we know there is a war being waged in our very own homes against us...and the enemy is crafty beyond measure.

I never would have thought it...they are so cute and sweet and innocent looking. But our kids? THEY ARE THE ENEMY?

Suuuuuure....all the stuff they do often gets dismissed as "kid stuff..." but who do they think they are fooling. We are on to them.

You step on legos in the middle of the night on your way to pee, which sends you careening into the hall table and you break a lamp, where you step on the glass and cut your foot. Coincidence? Ha.

You keep finding plastic bugs in all of your shoes...( cute and funny and creative?!?!) WRONG...the kid's are trying to give you a heart attack.

And lets not forget their GREATEST WEAPON OF ALL...

Biological Warfare

They come home with any number of nasty diseases and infect the whole household...and while they are sick for MAYBE a and your spouse are forced to go to work ill (having used all your sick days on your offspring...the devious little farts) and there you spread the germs to all of your co workers, and your boss, who then bring it BACK to work because they run out of sick days and infect you AGAIN, when you then bring it home to your children who spread it at school because aren't keeping them home again! (Starting to question this H1N1 outbreak now...aren't ya?)

Kids are gross. They KNOW they are supposed to wash their hands, and use a tissue, and cover their mouths when the cough...BUT DO THEY??? DO THEY??? nope. And you can bet they won't either.

I speak from personal experience. In the last MONTH my husband and I have dealt with FOUR trips to the pediatrician. 1 trip to the general practitioner, 1 trip to the ER for me, and yet another trip to my OB since he's the only one who can actually TREAT me right now.

WHY? well let's SEE shall we:

Strep Throat (both kids, then passed on to the husband, and three weeks later I have it.)
The Evil 24 hour stomach virus (carried home from daycare by my 1 year old, who gave it to me, and landed me in the ER.)
The Common Cold (also my one year old, then the older kid, and husband and I have been sick going on three weeks now)
Upper Respiratory infection (again, the one year old, can't blow her there ya go.)
Pink Eye (somehow my husband and I ended up with this but the kids didn't? I blame the nasty kids at the pediatricians office.)

and then to top it all off?

Yesterday BOTH children got sent home from their respective daytime dwellings with 103+ fever...and NO OTHER SYMPTOMS. Both are fever free and fine this morning, all be it NOT allowed back to school until tomorrow...meanwhile my husband and I both woke up with sore throats. Again.

Still think they are sweet and innocent angels? I think NOT.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

"Over Qualified"

having more education, training, or experience than is required for a job or position.
Origin: 1950–55;
over- + qualified UnabridgedBased on the Random House Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2009.

I've heard this word a lot lately. A long with the following phrases at the conclusion of what I thought were successful job interviews.

"I'm just concerned that you won't feel challenged."
"Don't you think you'll get bored?"
"This is such a small position for someone with a degree."

or my favorite (thank you Target, for showing me the light...)

" really honey, WHY are you applying for a cashier job?"

I've been unemployed since March. I've filled out ...hundreds, and I mean HUNDREDS of applications. Everywhere from marketing firms to the local Walmart. I've been in sales for about 8 years in some form or fashion, and I've accumulated a pretty hefty knowledge of customer service and your basic office skills along the way. (Microsoft is my bitch yo...)

However...when applying for your basic everyday receptionist job? (There aren't a lot of positions out there in my field that don't have that ugly two phrase word "commission only" attached to them anymore...) I get told that I'll be bored and underworked and in general not be happy.

Clearly these people don't understand what being out of work for dang near a year it seems does to the average working person's pysche.

I DON'T CARE IF YOU THINK THE JOB IS "BENEATH" MY CAPABILITIES. I need a place to earn a feed my children... (should I break out the pictures of them next time? They are pretty darn cute...maybe smear some dirt on them?) A PAYCHECK WOULD MAKE ME VERY VERY HAPPY INDEED!!!

I don't like that phrase..."over qualified" it implies that I'm something I'm not...which is too good to do an honest days work in a blue collar field to bring home some bacon for my babies. I grew up in a blue collar household. My mama worked at Kmart until she earned her teaching certificate and my daddy was a plant hand and car salesman. Your every day average American family just trying to get by.

And then there are the jobs that I apply for just "to see." The jobs I honestly haven't a hope and a prayer of getting because they are WAY beyond my capabilities (I'm sooo not qualified to be a social worker.) THESE are the jobs I actually get interviews for??? Are ya kidding me? I don't have a PH D! I don't even have a graduate degree! Hell, my MAJOR was THEATRE!!! I'm trying to figure out how that in anyway makes me qualified to teach college mathematics!?!? (I'm not even allowed to help my 8 year old with his math homework!!!)

The job market is a funny place indeed and I'm channeling Dory from Nemo just about daily ("just keep swimming") but DAYUM!!!!

I just think that hiring someone who MIGHT be "over qualified" for a position to say, answer your telephones, or ring up peoples purchases...someone with ten years of customer service experience who knows how to talk to folks and is pretty good with computers (and has a REASON to get up to go to work everyday, great availibity, and a tendency to only call in sick when her children are running 106 fever...) would be a much better investment of company funds than a college kid who is gonna call in sick every third hangover and is rude to your customers?

But that's just me.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Pyrex isn't indestructible and neither is the washing machine...


Note the following: Mama Allgrowedup is outta work. This means money is we need to quit destroying things.

Hubs: If you INSIST on reheating tamales in my pyrex (wha? the microwave was just too much to figure out?) Do not then replace the lid on the pyrex and place it in the Dish Drain (dish drain: can be defined as a device used to drain dishes POST WASHING) without AT LEAST RINSING IT. Pyrex is expensive. And I use it a lot... a whole lot... to make just about all of the yummy dishes you hold so near and dear. So when I discover your latest biology project in my favorite Pyrex dish this morning (Ya'll know...the big long rectangular one you can fit a whole dang turkey in if you want...yea...that one) I cussed you. A lot.

Son: The following do not go in your cargo pants pockets...because they do not go in my washing machine.

Matchbox Cars
Sucker Sticks
A wadded up baby wipe that looks like you shat in it personally (umm...ew?)

Our washing machine now keeps throwing itself out of balance for reasons that are BEYOND me (probably a wayward lego stuck in the agitator...oye...)

These things cost money.

Not to mention...I could spend a lot more time COOKING and actually DOING laundry if I wasn't going to hazmat training to wash the dishes and taking that online washing machine repair course...


You are small, and you are cute. And while Mama allgrowedup realizes she hasn't worn that pair of pricey heels in a veeeeeeeery long time? She'd just as soon not have to replace them because you discovered that your brother left the permanent markers within your tiny little grasp. Again.

Now returning you to your regularly scheduled programming:

Meat loaf NOT made in Pyrex... it's whats for dinner.

What DO you do all day wife?

I can't tell you how funny I find this question when my husband returns home from a hard day at work. (And he does indeed, work quite hard.)

I've tried explaining it to him in many a way...but it's just one of those things that if you don't experience it first hand? You just don't KNOW.

Well a few weeks back the ole' hubster came down ill. (It happens...even super man has his cryptonite, or in this case...the common cold with a bit of strep) He was stranded at the house with me and the smallest one for three whole days.

Let me preface this with this: I'm a really really CRAPPY housewife. I hate housework...with an absolute passion. I'd honestly do just about anything to get out of it but when you are the only one of the four people in your home who

a) knows where the trash can is (apparently)

b) knows how to wash a dish (apparently)

c) can find the hamper (no really's there...just inside the garage door...NOT in the middle of the living room k?, thanks!)

You are really S.O.L. (That's shit outta luck for those of you who missed my attempt to keep this clean ;-)

So I do my best. But then there is my shadow.

My shadow is about 28 inches tall...really precious little brunette who toddles after me demanding lots of attention and time. This is when she's not racing at warp speed in the other direction from me getting into who knows what in her brothers room, or the bathroom, or the dvd shelves...or emerging from my makeup cabinet covered in whodathunk... My shadow is a mischevious little bit of a thing (we shall call her lil bit) and Lit Bit is T.R.O.U.B.L.E.

Well my shadow gave her Daddy a good run for his money when he was under the weather...

Does the shadow care that Daddy has the sniffles and the sneezes? Uh uh... "Dada dada dada dada" (shadow races at warp speed into the side of a coffee table...) "waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"

And as I explained to that loving man of mine...the shadow does not care if Mama has dishes to wash, or laundry to fold...or heaven forbid a floor to mop or dinner to cook...the shadow knows two speeds and two speeds only... light speed, and dead stop. Only when Lil Bit comes to a dead stop does the Mama get anything accomplished...and that happens approximately once a day for less than an hour.

So what DO I do all day husband? I run...for my life...either towards or away from my Shadow... I cover the 1,100 square feet in this house at LEAST two hundred times before noon...and hope for a "dead stop" (that's nap time) so that I can throw something a crock pot and have the privelage of washing your underwear. :-)

There was a beginning...

I've kicked around the idea of starting a blog for a long time now, and figured "What tha hey..." and decided to go for it.

I'm currently one of the nations many "laid off and looking," I have two amazing kids (8 year old step son, One year old daughter) and a third on the way. And husband and I aren't shooting for our own reality show. (Amazing how many people assume that when you tell them you plan on having a boat load of chirrens...I have to justify that eight passenger gas guzzler somehow ya know!)

I'm a simple small town girl with big dreams and a good life, and I've learned a lot of lessons on the way to what I have determined is my new status..."a grown up..."

The inspiration for the blog title comes from my Daddy, so I'll give credit where credit is due. I've heard him tell my brother that "Being a grown man ain't a part time job..." many a time...and I've often thought how funny it is that it applies to being a grown up in general.

So stick around and enjoy my crazy ramblings. Feel free to comment if you like.