Confessions

It's true. I'm totally in love with Paul Rudd. No, I can't explain it. But I did have a dream once where he played Rob in the movie version of Get Fuzzy.

Venting

*Disclosure* Feel free to skip this blog post, it's my last whiny, woe is me post. I swear.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! Yeah, so I'm pretty close to the Cliffs of Insanity. I know this week is going to be rough, but after that will be smooth sailing until the fall semester starts. If I live through tonight - and that's a big "if" - and the fundraiser is a success, tomorrow I may even sleep late!
Between home (where my husband just knocked down a wall without consulting me first) school (where I've got finals this week) the kids (who desperately need attention) and work (where everything, strangely, is fine) ..... it's like I'm losing my mind.
AND my husband copped attitude with me this morning, almost winning him a roundhouse to the solar plexus. Seriously? Wars have been started by people with more mental stability than I have today.

Impact

It’s easy to get bogged down in your daily life, and forget that you have the power to impact others.

Each year, I help to run an art contest for Safe Haven. Contacting hundreds of schools to get students to produce posters or works of art to help educate their community about the law. Each year, I stress over it, and then get a ton of amazing entries right at the deadline. Last year, one of the winners was a girl at an alternative high school, who was clawing her way through a horrible home life to try to make something better for herself by finishing school. It was an absolute pleasure to meet her and present her with the award.

This year, after stressing out as usual, I got ONE lone entry to the contest. Just one. It was a great one, don’t get me wrong. But I was bummed out that we got only that one.

The school was notified and congratulated. I ordered the certificate and sent info for the prize money to be distributed.

Then the teacher called me. She said, “You don’t know how much this will mean to her.” Turns out this student is a ward of the state. Working her way through school, dealing with self esteem issues, trying to fit in and get through. She did the project on her own, no extra credit, and never expected to win anything…. She did it because she thinks it’s important. Because she wants babies to be safe and loved.

And now, it’s going to be my pleasure to present her with her award, and tell her what a great job she did. And it will serve as a reminder to me that everything we do impacts someone else. Not everything works out as you planned, but it all works out. And what you do can impact someone else’s life in ways you didn’t expect.

Oooh Reeealy?

Didn't I say I'd be right back with some "better you than me" moments for your enjoyment?

Today, my 12 year old son came home with something that looks a whole lot like a hickey. Cue absolute mortification.

Of course, he says it's totally not a hickey, because that would just be wrong. Oh no, he says a girl just pinched his neck when they were playing around at school. Yeah, those lies didn't work when I was young, either.

So now he's upset because I told him I don't believe him. Now he believes we're at an impasse. I explained that A) he's too young for this crap and B) even if he weren't too young for this crap, that defacing someone's body is plain wrong. I told him that if I see another mark on him, or find that he left one on someone else, I will hold a press conference with his teacher, the girl's mother, and the school paper.

There have been plenty of times he's done stupid things, and lied to avoid trouble. This, however, is the first time he hasn't eventually told the truth. That bothers me. A lot.

Well, Hellloooo

No, I haven't forgotten about my blog. I've just been busy.
It's not you, it's me.
Like right now, I'm in my political science class. And if my professor realizes I'm blogging, she's going to call me out in front of everyone. And that would suck.

So I'm going to talk politics (which I enjoy anyway) and will regale you later with tales of my amusing and sometimes infuriating children.

Hello! My Name Is: Asshole

Last night, Aunt Flo had me laid out and miserable. The kids are on spring break, so I've been letting them stay up late. Last night, I went to bed at 10pm, and let the munchkins blow up the air mattress and sleep in my room. Before we laid (lay? lie? whatever) down, I explained that I really didn't feel well, and I was super tired, so it was time for bed.
Then Isaiah jumped on my bed. Which was fine. Well, it was fine until he kept climbing on me, and poking at me, and waking me up every time I’d doze off. By 11pm, I was mad as hell. He was twirling some plastic knife around and hit me with it. Then he dropped it on the floor. Then he dropped it again. Each time, he’d jump OFF the bed, then jump back ON the bed….. until I yelled at him that if he did it again, I’d throw out the knife. He settled down for a few minutes. I went back to sleep. Then he woke me up to change the channel, and I told him no. Then when he woke me up AGAIN for a glass of water (the tried and true bed time delay) I yelled at him to go to sleep.

He started to cry.

I said, “Really?? You’re crying because I won’t get another glass of water?!” And he nodded his little angel head while the tears spilled over.

Now I’m officially an asshole.

I dragged my ass out of bed, went downstairs to get a glass of water. When I brought it back, I apologized to him. He told me it was ok, that he still loves me. I felt like a total jerk.

Then this morning, he couldn’t find his knife, so he asked me on the phone if I threw it away. Yes, because I’m a mean, horrible person that makes kids cry. I told him no, that it’s probably under the covers, or on the floor next to the bed.

Then he noticed something, while we were on the phone. He asked, “Momma, did you put a heart on my hand?” and I said yes, and he was happy. You see, before I left this morning, when he was (finally) sleeping peacefully, I took a marker and drew a heart on his hand. So that when he woke up, he’d know I love him. Hopefully that’ll replace the image of half asleep, angry momma. *crosses fingers*

Did You Just Say "Abe Lincoln?"

Out of nowhere, Isaiah announced, "I miss Abe Lincoln."

Daimean curled up next to me on the couch, and decided to hold my foot as if he was holding my hand.

I told Isaiah to stop peeing on the back of the toilet. He laughed maniacally.

Daimean walked into the living, stood in front of the tv, and started to dance. Then, calmly walked away.

Children are strange little creatures.

You know how the saying goes, that time heals all wounds? I've noticed that I miss my father more as time goes by. Not less. Sure, I stopped sobbing every time I think of him (years and years ago, actually) but there are so many things I wish I could tell him. I wish he could see my kids. I wish my kids had the chance to know him. *sigh* So I guess the reminder that the people you love will not always be around prompted me to visit my grandparents. It's awful to see my grandfather so frail. In my mind, he's this big, strong Navy guy. But now he's small and ashen. My grandmother, well, she's still as opinionated as ever, and loud. And kind of rude, too. But we had a very nice visit, chatted about current events, our dogs, etc. Strangely, the kids actually wanted to go with me. Like most kids, mine are creeped out by elderly people. It's odd for me to see my grandmother not know how to talk to my kids. She always made extra effort to relate to me as a kid, and she did a damn good job. But with my boys? I don't know. I don't think she even knows their birthdays. To this day, I don't think she can spell their names, either.