All posts for the month March, 2013

Grieving is a Process

Published March 29, 2013 by sarcasmica

Grieving is a process all by itself. Everyone deals with it differently, and depending on your own level of sadness, it effects your day to day. The last time i lost someone close to me was my dad, and that was 11 years ago. I was single. I didn’t have kids to look after. I even got time off of my job to deal with it however i needed to.

When i got the news this week that my friend died, my husband was away on a 2 week business trip. My mom helped me maintain some sort of normal home life for my 2 kids but i’m still having to run around after the kids, trying to make arrangements to travel, getting my son to all his extra curricular stuff, getting homework done and finally picking my husband up from the airport yesterday…. picking him up after he found out his luggage had been lost for the second flight in a row.

So i’m now trying to run around and make the weekend as seamless as i can for my husband and mom. ( I leave in the middle of the day on Easter) It’s not that i don’t trust my husband to prepare the easter baskets properly … well yes it is. I do not trust my husband to PROPERLY take care of the baskets. While my son would be thrilled to find nothing but video games and Skylanders in his basket, my daughter will be less thrilled. Also, i have to pick up something for my mom’s birthday, which is also Sunday. She has been such a big help I didn’t want to jip her of something enjoyable.

Also, i had to find something to wear for the funeral. I am quite certain yoga pants and a pink sweater would not do, and at this point it’s pretty much all that a-will fit and b-clean enough to pack and go.

So I wanted to get the wardrobe ordeal over with first. I am not a fan of stripping down to my skivvies and trying on clothes right now when I haven’t exactly had enough time to let weight watchers magically change my body shape. I needed to get it over with first before all the other errands or i’d just procrastinate another day.

After searching high and low, and knocking some old ladies out of my way in the fat lady section of Macy’s , i finally pieced together something acceptable. Some black slacks that wont make the tell tale fat lady march music of “swish swish swish” every time you take a step.

I almost gave up on a top when i came across a nicely priced acceptable option. I didn’t even try it on. I took it all to the counter to find a line with no cashier.

People actually will stand and form a line in front of a vacant register.

I may not be firing on all cylinders right now, but come on, people.

So i marched to the next register that was actually being manned. Craziness! I hear the cashier being very over the top happy and helpful to the customer. Very nice to hear for a change. And then i’m up. I place my all black choices on the counter.

It’s spring, remember. Everything in the store is either coral or turquoise.

I have not one , but 2 black pieces of clothing… and i have no make up on. I am, amazingly, in jeans, though so perhaps that threw her off. No stretch pants.

She immediately begins chirping about how fantastic the shirt i chose is. She has to replace her own because she’s worn them completely OUT! Can you believe that? They are just such fantastic shirts and she couldn’t resist getting them in an array of colors.

I’m doing my best to play along. Really. I swear, i am.

Then one too many chirps later about how light and airy and pairing capabilities just sent me over the edge. I threw a bucket of mud on her rainbow.

“I actually picked it out for a funeral.”


I tried not to show my twinkle at her discomfort. In my own defense, this is something my friend Crystal would not only have gotten a good laugh out of, but would have done herself.

She sputtered her condolences and the only thing she could reach for across that muddy rainbow was “When is the service?”

So i played nice and told her the small details of my travel plans. She recovered nicely to her own credit, and I smiled genuinely and wished her a good weekend.

People don’t know how to react to news of death or funerals. I discovered this after losing my dad. It’s a slippery slope of emotions. You want people to acknowledge your loss. But you can only hear “i’m sorry” so many times before wanting to plug your ears and rock back and forth humming a tune to yourself. But if they don’t acknowledge it, they are assholes.

So i knew full well what the word “funeral” would do to Holly Sunflower at Macy’s but i couldn’t resist. As a grieving person you have to take moments of mirth wherever you find them … even at the expense of a customer service representative doing her very super splendidilly bestest on a Friday morning.




Sudden Loss

Published March 26, 2013 by sarcasmica



This is my childhood friend.

She passed away suddenly yesterday.

It’s hard to process the loss of a person who was a giant part of half of your life. She was always a big sister figure to me. Good and bad 🙂

I had just started jr high at a new school. A Catholic school, no less. I had the full uniform and glasses and bushy eyebrows to seal the deal. My friend educated me first.

“You have to roll your skirt. Like this…”

“Do NOT leave your socks up to your knees and PLEASE untuck your shirt.”

She saved me from countless beatings by doing this, certainly! Well, at the very least some hushed gossip and finger pointing, and i have always been thankful for the start of our friendship. We walked home the same direction together. She was way more worldly and cool than I. She was, afterall, two whole years older than me. I worked up the courage to ask her one day, “Will you be my best friend?” Her reply was, “No. I already have too many of those.” The joke was on her, though, because from then on she couldn’t get rid of me. We did become best friends.

She got to do everything first. High school. Grad night and graduation. Driving. Dating. Make up. Vegas. Annual Disneyland pass.

She always shared the experience with me, though. More so, she was beside me for my own. I always had sort of a protector. A buffer. I was certain she was the smartest teenager of all time. She had the biggest bangs of all time, and that alone was impressive.


Us at Disneyland

In processing what has happened, i’ve thought a lot about our friendship these past 25 years of my life. I frantically went searching for pictures and anything I could find to let me hold a tangible piece of her.. but it didn’t work.  I found how little evidence i have of our friendship together. This was before cell phone “selfies” and duck face collages. We have a few pictures together, but how many do i have of me standing with my brothers? Not many more. We were together every single day, she and I.

She lured me into the sordid life of a city band color guard. This band was the apex of our high school lives. .. mine, anyway. We wrote notes back and forth folded into various geometric impossibilities filled with talk of band crushes and countdowns until practice.

Notes, kids, are something teenagers did before texting. Pen and paper. Sometimes both sides, and on a rrrreally gossipy day, TWO pages! .. or if there was a substitute teacher.

These notes were passed in the hallway on the way to 3rd period. She took me into her circle of juniors when i was a lowly freshman. She packed extra lunch and was irritated when i needed it.  Big sister stuff.

Summers were spent driving to the mall in PV or Del Amo in her black Karmann Ghia. Oingo Boingo blasting. Complete with finger choreography. Depeche Mode on melancholy mornings. She introduced me to Les Miserable and Phantom of the Opera. We played these tapes over and over screeching at the top of our voices with the windows down heading to the beach.

Somehow I have to understand that’s all i’ll ever have of her now.

June 1st would have been her 39th birthday.

Her mother will have to bury her daughter in a matter of days. More sad than that even is that her mother has had to bury their entire family over the span of the last 7 years. One husband, two children, and as i understand it, a week ago she lost her own father.

I cannot fathom this reality for her. She was always the sweetest most incredible happy smiling mom. The type of mom you secretly wished was your own .. or at the very least an aunt.

It’s taken me a day to understand this has happened. She and I grew apart once we grew up, got married, and i had kids. She was never unavailable, we kept in touch through Facebook and exchanged emails over the past three or four years. We both moved around quite a bit and computer connections were somehow easier. I always had her number and knew if i ever needed to call, i could. I hope she knew the same. I’d like to think so.


2marriedldiesDland Trip 022

This was the bachelorette trip to Disneyland (with my 4 month old son)  and here we are at her wedding the next day


I am so sad to say goodbye to you so soon, my friend. Though we didn’t talk all the time, it didn’t mean you weren’t in my mind and heart. I wont say “a piece of me is now missing” because you would snort and roll your eyes. I will say, however, there will forever be something missing. Plans we had to get together once you moved closer will not be realized now. Long fuming ranting emails about something now seemingly unimportant will never be read. I mourn the childhood friend who will never know my own children. My bright, sarcastic, smiling friend will be with her father and brother whom she missed dearly. You will never be forgotten.










Oldie but Goodie

Published March 24, 2013 by sarcasmica

I’m going through an old blog i had on another site. A terribly operated, poorly kept site. I came across this post from 2011 and found myself laughing out loud to the point my son was offended when i told him what it was about. I thought i’d re-post and see if you find it half as amusing as i did.

2011 Plague


It started one week ago. The husband needed a weekend to rest up because he felt he was coming down with something. No problemo. I managed the kids solo just like any old Monday or Tuesday… or Wednesday or Thursday.

I should say he was worried i’d blog about this, but honey, it’s not just about you. 🙂 

Anyhoo, we manage through the weekend and come Monday, he has a bad sinus infection. Having suffered from a few myself, i know how miserable it can be.

One down.

Tuesday i get a call that my son was just lying on the playground and ended up camped out in the director’s office, can i come get him.

Two down.

I make it through his fever for two days when I start feeling like a midget is sitting on my chest.

Three down.

Like dominoes, we drop. It morphs from fever/aches to something completely different. By Friday we are out of supplies, and darnit if the 5 month old can’t reach the floor pedals in my car yet to shop for us. I am now on antibiotics and feeling invincible. I take my son out for some fresh air and a Target/Costco run. His fever had been gone for 48 hours at this point and i thought we were good to move on.


He’s coughing and admiring his shiny new toy as we are walking through the grocery part of Target when


A foamy, bubbly puddle of spit gurgles out of his mouth. In slow motion, i grab one of the bazillion napkins in my bag and try to catch anything that I can before it hits the ..



too late. To my embarrassment and surprise, the gaggle of people around me just keep going about their day. Myself, i make sure i give the mom a pitying ‘been-there-done-that, no worries’ look knowing how mortifying something like that can be.

Nope. Not even a glance. So i clean up the urp and make a b-line for the checkout. At this point he seems to be doing ok, and as we had just eaten lunch and he managed to keep that down, i thought we were out of the woods. I have no idea what the other shoppers thought as Ginormica Mom is speeding by them with a small(ish) boy in the cart chanting, “breath through your nose, honey iiiiiiiin oooooout, that’s good, you’re doing great!”

Like i’m reliving the Lamaze we used to bring him into this world.

We make it to the check stand. I’m feeling confident and start to think no one noticed. We get all the way through to me swiping my card when

gurgle .. gurrrrgle … gurrrr URP.

And for effect he’s managed to stand himself up in the back of the cart for maximum SPLATness. I look over and a giant foam puddle oozes out of his mouth and down his chin, over the side of the cart, and THWACK onto the floor.

Just in case anyone in the back of the store missed it, he immediately starts saying, “Did i throw up, mom? Did i throw up? DID I THROW UP? Why did i throw up ?!”

I felt at any moment i was going to hear, “Ma’am, the checkout line for parents of children with rabies is over here.”

What did i get? NOTHING. Nada. The cashier acted as if I had just swiped and left. No, no. Don’t worry about us! This 5 week old Baskin Robbins napkin is completely ample enough to clean up this puddle of ooze my child just spewed out of his face. I got it. You just keep on checkin’, chica. Don’t mind us.

Not one freakin’ “is he ok?” or “i’m so sorry!”  or “poor guy!”  Nope. Army of one here, got it covered, thanks y’all.

So we make it to the car without any further scene. I have a problem. … i still need to go to Costco for formula. It’s not like I can just find some other white-ish powder to put in a bottle and make it stretch. I need the baby crack. I COULD drive aaaaaall the way back home, drop the kiddo off, and then drive aaaaaaall the way back but what’s my next issue? (i can hear my mother guessing this now with an eye roll to boot)

I’m on empty. Well, technically i had enough to get back home AND to the gas station, but the light was on.  I talk my brave little soldier into carrying his kids meal bag in with him. “We can do this, honey, i just need a couple things then we can go.”

Have i won mother of the year yet?

I coach him to the water, he’s good. I praise him to the peanut butter, all clear. The whole time he has about 3 misfires. All people around me can hear (if they’re even paying attention) “in the bag, honey, aim for the bag!” We make it to the promised land of baby necessities, i grab the formula and we make it out without even a hint of slime.

I was very proud of us. I get home and tell the short version to my dazed and still-sick husband and he’s unimpressed. Was I shocked? No. He’s sick, remember? Anyone who has lived with, married, dated, or in any way been caged with a sick male knows what i’m saying and i don’t need to embellish. They do that quite well themselves. So after this harrowing ordeal, i manage one more day before i’m hit with the cold. This ass-backwards plague is beginning to piss me off. Just when i think it can’t get any more comedic, my husband says to me last night (as he’s laying on an air mattress in the living room because he just can’t manage to sit up)  “Do you know i’ve been sick for a week now?” 

Well color me brown and call me a cowpie, no shit ?!! I hadn’t noticed !!! And later, “Gee, my back is actually starting to hurt from laying down so much.”

Well let me get that heating pad out, dear, ’cause i sure feel spry. OOPS! Did i leave that hot pad right where your nuts land in that chair? My bad.

1 Cheeseburger, hold the crack please

Published March 24, 2013 by sarcasmica

Holy shit.

I’m beginning to feel too many days are ending with this thought. And by ‘ending’ i mean after putting the kids to bed. Because that, afterall, is when the day ends. My day is over at 8pm and if i didn’t absolutely know i’d regret it, i’d go straight to bed myself.

But i have to wring out my own thoughts a little before trying to hit the sheets. Doing so now would only result in a running dialogue in my head of the day’s events and the things i REALLY wanted to say to my children and the people i come in contact with.

The stupid people i come in contact with.

The day started fairly well as most terrible days so connivingly do. Lead you on into your morning coffee, tempt you through lunch. Tease you ’til nap time… then BAM!!

right between the eyes.

a tantrum saps your soul

Anyway, we started the day too early for my taste considering the late and happy evening the night before. But i pushed on and out of bed. Got everyone ready and went to a holiday festival outing at a school. It was suggested by an acquaintance and we had a good time. I somehow spent $20 but the kids had fun and it killed about an hour of our morning.

Next we went to see The Croods. My daughter decided to poop 10 minutes into the film. I don’t think it was her review, i think it was just coincidence. Anyway, she couldn’t sit down for the rest of the movie, so she stood up and played near the railing.

I was not going to change her because once she figures out there’s an ‘out option’ once the movie starts, our movie going is kaput.

Still, things were going fine.

Got home, attempted to recover from the popcorn and morning snacks. Next up was a birthday party for my son’s classmate.

Friday after school i’m going through the backpack when i find a Word Document printed bday invite for THE NEXT DAY.


I always feel like it’s my responsibility to take my kid to these because any bonus points he can get might make up for his behavior at school/on the playground/in the cafeteria/in the parkinglot/hallway/bathroom, etc.

No really, he’s a great kid.


So i show up on time.

I’m never on time. For anything.

This ‘party’ is happening at the local McDonald’s. I don’t even mind that. But we walk in, gift bag in tow, and there’s no sign or french fry indicating there’s anything resembling a party here.

We walk around.

Perhaps there’s a secret passage you only see when you are there for a birthday i’ve never noticed before.

I call home to have my mom check the trash can to make sure this is the right day/place/time when three rag tag people walk through the door. A little girl runs up to my son and excitedly points at him while looking at the most mature of the bunch.

I assume this is the party girl.

No one is carrying balloons, or a cake, or a streamer or anything resembling a sign or gift. They head straight to the play place without introducing themselves to me or my kid.


I immediately feel a bout of flu coming on so i can build a case for go time.

Someone mumbles something about ‘waiting for her dad to bring.. ‘ and that’s all i got.


I sit down and watch my son climb the petri dish play center.  A kid in a party dress walks in with her mom and a gift bag. The 3 Amigos start shrieking for the bday girl to come greet her guest. She doesn’t come. Her older brother, however, greets the kid. The amigos stand up and SNATCH the gift and put it down on the floor in a corner behind their table and mumble a ‘thank you’ to the parent.

Then the parent drops off her kid. She asks permission and says she has some shopping to do.

No cell phone numbers were exchanged, no info given. Just “ok”. and she leaves.

I begin to chew on my judgement as i watch the kids play and eavesdrop on the Smiegel family.

They are not speaking English.

It sort of resembles Spanish, but also French. I realize later they are from Brazil based on the family that shows up later in proud shirts and jackets.

After about 30 minutes, the dad shows up with his current girlfriend. White girl with long red hair.

How much more opposite can you go ?!

He has a balloon – singular – and the cake.

Really ?! The party started at 4. There was zero traffic. It’s a Saturday afternoon. Normal people are already at their weekend fun destination by this time. You couldn’t manage to set up this shadow party before people stumbled into the fast food playground ?!

Ok. My judging became more of a cud at this point that i kept chewing over and over. There was no one to talk to!

Aside from the crazy nutjob that parked her keister next to me along with her 2 arguing fighting bickering boys which she threatened the whole 2 hours with “We are leaving in FIVE MINUTES if you don’t stop it.”  Each time they left to play she sat cackling at her phone which she held 2 inches from her face.

It was a lalapalooza of freaks and geeks. I was representing the geeks, i know.

So we managed to make it until the cake cutting which my son opted out of. If it’s not chocolate, or without at least a chocolate sprinkle, he’s not interested. We headed out. Yes we were the first to leave, but I reasoned since we were the first there – even before the dang family and bday girl – we got to leave first.

We come home and head out to play in the backyard. After about 30 minutes there was a tug – of – war with some chalk that my son won, yanked out of the 2 year old’s hand, he turned as he was doing his victory hoot and ran into the deck post which knocked him to his ass on the asphalt scraping his elbow in the process.

I choked back a “See what karma does to jerky big brothers?!” and went to help him.

Screams, people. Shrieks from the depths of hades flew out of his mouth.

My daughter began screaming over the lost chalk.

I picked up what i could, including my older daughter child off the ground, and headed in.

My son whimpering and crying over my 2 year old who was trying to outscream him.

That was just the beginning.

Next came the cleaning ritual.

The neighbors somehow did not call CPS. .. unless they are still en route and got caught up at a ESL McDonald’s bday party.

My nearly 7 year old son stood in the bathroom, shirt off, holding his injured scraped elbow and he was hopping and screaming at me to help him… which i was right in front of him trying to do.

Every time i lifted something to try i was answered with a SCREAMING “NOOOOOOO!!!!”

Surely I was going to amputate his forearm without anesthesia.

I put down my rusty saw and tried to simply pour water over his 2 inch scrape.

For the next 30 minutes I was screamed at, yelled at , and made to feel like a monster until finally having to walk away….

three times.

It was insane.

I felt bad for him, but he quickly caused that feeling to be replaced with wonder. Wonder at how such a smart kid could go so extremely far off the deep end.

Stupid me didn’t think to resolve it with bribery before the 30 minute dance of insanity. I was in preservation mode i guess.

It finally occurred to me that Peeps have a reason for being invented.

To calm my irrationally wound up 6 year old enough to fix a scrape.

It was an instant calmer.

Fucking sugar coated marshmallow.

I couldn’t console my child, but a mouth full of future tartar did the trick in the blink of an eye!

So at this point i’m wrung out. Done. Brain dead for the night… and possibly the remainder of the weekend.

I’m not completely convinced there wasn’t crack in that McD’s cheeseburger. He was acting about as sane as a crack head surrounded by powdered sugar.

Maybe i’ll have a funny anecdote out of this tomorrow, but for now, meh.


Published March 22, 2013 by sarcasmica–tough-love-or-too-much–184517447.html

So i came across this article today. This is one thing very wrong with the world right now. Public displays of punishment. I’m not talking about the parents, i’m talking about the reaction to the punishment.

Who is anyone to say what they choose to do in their family is right or wrong? We don’t know what led to the choice that this is the kid’s consequence.

First we say it’s terrible no one is holding kid’s accountable. There are no consequences. Parents aren’t involved.

Now it’s too harsh. Everyone feels they need to chime in on how two complete strangers handled their teenager.

Does it suck to be the kid who had to do this? Probably. This could be a discussion if you know any facts at all about the story, but stoning the parents for choosing to be involved and try something is not acceptable.

The public is not responsible for that girl getting her homework done, therefore they have no say in the punishment should she fail to do her job as a student and member of that family.

You don’t know what will come of this action for the girl. Maybe she will be so angry she’ll be inspired to become something because of how her parents handled this situation. Maybe she’ll actually do her homework because of this extreme consequence. Maybe she’ll sneak out every night and wind up pregnant.

No one knows! But it becomes very dangerous when you interfere with family business. You don’t know what will work to inspire, click, engage, enlighten a teenager.

They are aliens.

Think of the worst tantrum your toddler has ever had in public. How did you handle it? Were there camera phones pointed at you?

NOW think of the worst tantrum your kid has had at home and the time you reacted the worst to it.

What if there was a camera in your house?

Still judging another parent, Judgy McJudgeballs?

I know i’d be screwed. I’m not perfect. I make mistakes.. sometimes on an hourly basis depending on how the night and morning went. We all make our own choices for our own families. That’s the beauty of this country. We are free to make our own stupid choices. There’s no law against intelligent-deficient people making babies. Just look at our government!

Hey, at least the couple is still married! They obviously were on the same page about punishment. There’s something to say about that, right? The girl has it good, man!

Are these parents smart?

That doesn’t seem to be the case to me, no. Especially when the mom says something to the effect of, “It never occurred to me it would wind up on social media by way of people’s smart phones.”

Social media will haunt us all if we don’t think more than 5 seconds about what we’re doing if what we are doing it outdoors.

I’m not saying the punishment fit the crime, but just because the choice they made is out-of-the-box for most parents, does that mean they can’t step foot outside for fear of any backlash to their family?

Next time you read about a parenting choice of someone not related to you and your panties get twisted over it, just remember to take a minute and just cool your tits.


Published March 21, 2013 by sarcasmica

Most people have their own definitions of what would qualify for an extravagance. Today, i had groceries delivered. While Skyping with my husband, when i told him my delivery would be arriving soon, he did a great job not reaching through the camera and throttling me.

I could tell he thought i lost my mind

The same man that will drive 10 miles more to save $3 on a video game being sold down the street. The same man that will buy a game and store A, return it to store B if it saves him $2.

The very same homosapien that will buy and collect and aquire games from all genres and time frames just to have them in a box in the garage.

(last one)

The very same person that insists on buying new $60 + shoes from a SHOE store, and not settle on bargain prices at a shoe warehouse or outlet.


“We’re having groceries delivered now?”

First off, WE aren’t. I, however, am. The one who is home with 2 kids while you frolick and work in Europe for two weeks.

I have heard friends in different areas i’ve lived in talk about farm deliveries, and having dairy products delivered. They often spoke about the price of it, but how once you factor in the freshness and convenience, it was totally worth it.

Plus they’ll deliver in any weather

This became a thought in the back of my mind, but i could never really justify the thought. Afterall, i’m a stay at home mom and it’s part of the job description, right? Just like cleaning and babysitting is my job, right?


Once i found out how many SAHM had maids, that bubble was thankfully burst.

So once I saw the truck pull up out front, i rushed down the stairs to beat the doorbell. My daughter was beginning to wake up, but she was still in the ‘i will quietly and politely play in my bed until my brain reaches a level at which i must scream for you… even if the door is wide open and there are no barriers’

After receiving my bags which were left upon request just inside my door -I could have had him take them all the way up to the kitchen !! – i almost felt silly.

Now i’ve been in a position many many many times in my life where i’ve had to evaluate and re-evaluate something frivolous. This started when i was young, and i was worried my mom was spending money unnecessarily on something i had asked for, and i’d force a check stand purge of some of our groceries. To this day, i still have an urge every time i get to the rotating belt that something must be left behind.

Why this couldn’t have been ingrained into my brain with actual food being left on a plate and not shoved down my gullet, i will never know.

So i very swiftly and proudly dashed any thought of frivolity for my delivered groceries. I’ll tell ya why.

1. I’m gearing up to start Weight Watchers again, and i wanted to test my will power.
it turns out when you shop outside the store from a list, less crap gets shoved in your cart!  if i KNOW i need fruit and not cookies, i actually select fruit!

2. The weather here can sometimes really really suck, and along with a demanding 2 year old, the loading and unloading of the car and hauling in and out between the driveway and kitchen counter hoping whatever distraction tactic that had to be used will last the duration

3. Timing. I have a small window if i’m going to hit the store, and it’s usually right after i drop off my son at school. 99.9% of the time i am dropping him off while still in my PJs and i draw the line at stepping out of the car in PJs. If you are over the age of 4, this should apply to you as well. … and especially if you are 50lbs or more overweight. It’s not cute

4. It hailed today.

5. Convenience is called such for a reason, and in certain cases it is 100% worth a nominal fee.

I hate shopping online for shoes or clothes because i’m really really bad at returns. I want to see it and feel it and make sure it minimizes the girth of this body instead of enhancing curves that are in the wrong places. The shipping charges are usually around $9 for a single item.

I can get ten bags of groceries selected and brought inside my door for about $12.

It was totally worth it, people!

Also, that first delivery is free with the local grocery store. BONUS!
So to sum up, is grocery delivery worth it?

for me; YES and YES and YES!

If i could have done this when my son was at home with me all day, i’m sure the grocery store would have given me a giant discount just so they and all the customers didn’t have to hear his displeasure in shopping, or me not picking the right cereal, or not letting him get a toy, or not allowing the chocolate to be put in the cart , blah blah blah.

I look at the delivery fee as just a small savings for all the other groceries that end up in my cart along the way down my list.

Now i need to go get my daughter some milk … which I didn’t spend any gas money driving to the store to pick up !

Enough Already!

Published March 21, 2013 by sarcasmica

I need a sanity break. I don’t know how the single moms do it. My mom lives with us and is a HUGE help, especially when my husband is traveling and i STILL manage to lose my mind regularly.

Oh. My. God.

Children can be so clueless sometimes!

Imagine that!

They are a living testament to the fact that common sense is a technique learned early on or not at all. And if you are lucky enough to be a common sensical person like myself, you must take a moment to appreciate whatever it was that taught that to you. Be it your parents, the absence of parents, being raised by wild animals, or a single parent.

I pride myself on some of my common sense abilities and have always vowed to instill that in my children.

Before i understood how hard it would be.

Today we had spelling homework.

*moment of silence for all the brain cells i lost as a trade off for not throttling my kid*

Followed by math.

*let us take another moment*

Oddly enough, spelling is usually the homework that causes bouts of hysteria and seizures and spitting from my 6 year old. Cries of pain and shouts of indignation about how “You can’t control my life forever!”

yes. he has actually said this before.

But for some bizarre reason, tonight everything was flipped. Spelling had virtually no foaming at the mouth or fist pounding, but the math!!

Holy shit, the math !!!

It almost did me in. I think the amount of hand-in-the-hair-deep-breathing from me actually caused a few hairs to turn gray.

I’ll take this opportunity to remind you this is just 1st grade math. Who knew ?! I thought it would be easy ! I am terrified to see what 3rd and 4th grade holds for us.

My kid is usually a super star with math, but today we had doubles + (plus 1 or 2)  For the other inept parents out there like myself, that simply translates to 6+6  and also 6+8; 5+7; blah blah blah

We got through it… barely.

And i think i’m going to celebrate it being over with a double myself…  vodka that is!

holla !

I just took a break from bitching writing, and put them into bed after their stories and now i’m breathing easier. This is the promised land, people.

My own time.

Their little hamster wheel brains are slowing down and they are closing their red glowing eyes and succumbing to the sand man. As this happens, i feel a little of my own sapped energy pass from their walls back to my body.

What shall i do with this new found energy? Walk on the treadmill? Take out the trash? Put away laundry?

Answer: Lift the remote repeatedly.

It’s not the weight, people, it’s the reps. I take this very seriously.



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