Showing posts with label crazy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crazy. Show all posts

Monday, November 30, 2015

She Makes Naomi Campbell Look like Laura Ingalls

I recently read two posts over on  http://www.scarymommy.com one was called "Never Trust a Trick Baby" and the other one was called "I Gave Birth To a Feral Child".

They not only had me laughing out loud but I now understand why I'm completely insane.
I've scored on both accounts and I'm just waiting for "My Little Princes makes Naomi Campbell look like Laura Ingalls"

See, Big Red was my trick baby.  She came home and promptly slept through the night - And by all night I mean 12 hours.  The kid slept from 8PM to 8AM at 4 WEEKS OLD!  As an infant she would rather sit in her bouncy seat and watch the activity instead of being held.  She would literally cry if you held her too much.  She started putting herself to bed at 8PM when she was just 2 years old and still cant stay up much later than 10PM at almost 13 years old.  She ate anything I fed her and it only took a look to stop bad behavior or a melt down.   She was the perfect baby by all standards.  She made me look good.

Unlike most 1st time parents I knew the trap...make me think I had this parenting thing under control and promptly give birth to the spawn of satan.  I didn't fall for her trickery....it took me 8 years to be coerced into the spawn of satan  my feral child.

I say coerced because in those 8 years I met and married D who didn't have his own children.  He was upfront about wanting at least one of his own and I agreed to just one more.  Somewhere along the line I actually thought I had this shit show of parenting under control.

Then I had the feral child.  (If you've read the story above you know what I mean.)  Boy terrorist isn't freal in the sense that he barks or walks on all fours, but to paraphrase the article he's more  related to Mowgli from the jungle book.  He's wild, he goes one thousand miles a minute.  Before he could crawl he was climbing the stairs.  Before he could walk he was climbing on the counters.  He's talked non stop since he exited the womb. Boy Terrorist is the by far the wildest of the bunch, but he is also most sensitive child.  A mean look will reduce him to tears just as quickly as an exciting tv commercial will send him into hysterics.  He will do anything for and to protect his sisters.
It's like living with a unmediated bi-polar midget on a sugar high and some days it is pure hell.  Other days he makes my heart melt (until he karate chops the dog and sprays shaving cream all over the room...then we're back to hell.)



Then came the tiny surprise.  She has held true to both of her nick names (The surprise & Tiny Terrorist).
She is tiny, not just because she is the baby, but she's also small for her size. That's where tiny ends though...there is absolutely nothing tiny about her personality. She runs the show.  We're all still under her spell (for the most part) 3 years later and I'm pretty sure this is the way it's gonna go for the next 18 at least.

Her daddy thinks she can do no wrong, I see so much of myself in her I just have to laugh, her brother would literal lay down his life for her and her sister thinks shes a live talking baby doll.  She does absolutely what she wants to and takes no prisoners while doing it.  She has no fear of telling us straight up "Nope, not doing that", "Cause I don't want to" and "Leave me LONE!"
She steals toys and candy from Boy Terrorist CONSTANTLY and he still can't tell her no when she asks him sweetly for just one bite of his candy only to stuff the whole thing in her mouth while smiling at him.
Then there are her epic meltdowns and tantrums.  She literally makes Naomi Campbell look like Laura Ingalls from little house on the prarie.  She will throw what ever is in reach and fling herself on the floor screaming.  With all of our kids we let them throw their tantrum ,but put them in their room to do it.  They usually last 5-20 minutes; maybe 30 on  good day.  Not tiny terrorist - she's been timed at over an hour and a half.


I tell you all of this because I'm pretty convinced that I'm certifiably crazy, but I also know at least two other moms are as well.  They felt so bat-shit crazy that theyalso wrote stories.

And I've got them all beat....I've got the fucking trifecta of crazy.  Complete with Naomi Campbell peeing her pants in the corner cause she doesn't like the big potty only the tiny green one.
I already feel better about the obscenities I screamed over thanksgiving break.

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

To The Biggest Terrorist on His Birthday

I've been hanging on to this one for quite a while now...never really having the right time to post it, but then I thought "What if a fucking buss hits me and no one has the password to my account".

I thought 2 things
  1. I need to designate an online custodian of all of my stuff
  2. Why wait for a good time...I don't even plan my kids why in the hell would I plan a freaking blog post.
This one is for my Bonus Son...Connor.
The original terrorist and the most beautiful disaster.
Haircuts=good=not homeless looking
  I started this around your birthday but got sucked into the vortex of work so I just wrote you a FB post instead.  I'll finish this now...it has a happy birthday meaning, but I'm not rewriting it, so deal.

First I want to tell you that you scared the the holyfuckingbatshit out of me!

Here I was just starting a relationship with D and not only does he have a teen stepson the kid is a fucking NIGHTMARE!!!  (Yeah, I remember your mom and D driving around at all hours of the night.)  On top of that he's a teen...who can speak and choose to hate me.  UGH!

Oooh...and then I got the stories....all of the shit you had done in the past.  Jesus dude....just jesus.
So I had this opinion formed of you from the get-go.  I was pretty certain we wouldn't be that close if at all.  You'd be some dick head young adult that didn't like me and I wouldn't like you. I figured that we'd spend the next years chasing you around and dealing with your shit....if you chose to be a part of our life at all. I wasn't even sure I wanted you around my daughter or Jaxon at first.  I knew you'd be a constant link to your batshit crazy mother who despised me on a good day (I adore her now...but we're talking then)

It was tentative at first.  You met up with D and met the kids, but I wasn't included.  I wanted to be a real bitch and tell Derek and you to both fuck off.  That wasn't the deal you see.  You didn't get to have a relationship with MY husband and MY kids but not include me.  Then I remembered a few things.  You had him first...my husband that is.  You drove him crazy and you two didn't get along, but he was yours first.  I also remember being that kid.  The one who lived through the divorce of my parents when I was little and then the divorce of my mom and step dad when I was a young adult. I still remember what that feels like - your whole life being flipped upside down, ripped open, re-arranged and not having any say in any part of it. It was maddening because while it might not have been a perfect life it was mine and I was comfortable there.  I remember the new girlfriends and spouses.  I especially remember the really shitty one.  The one who didn't like me and made my step-dad choose.  When he didn't choose me I was heartbroken and angry.  Angry was an understatement.  Even worse I felt vulnerable, because I understood clearly after that that our relationship wasn't the same as my mom.  He didn't just HAVE to love me - either of us could walk away without reason.  I thought about that a lot in terms of you and my own daughter.  I never wanted her to feel that way.  That she was just an expendable relationship to Derek - that he could walk away.  I never wanted you to feel that way either.

So on your birthday (along with cash of course) I want you to know some things.  Things that might seem trivial now (cause at 22 and broke - $200 is way better than all the warm fuzzies in the world.  It's cool I know this...I was 22 and broke once too)

Most importantly you will NEVER be replaceable.  You are not an option or a relationship that I could ever walk away from.  You are NO different to me than any of my other 3 (you can buy booze and you don't shit your pants anymore so you actually have a leg up...but don't tell them that)  There is nothing on this planet that you could do or say to change this. If Derek dies tomorrow and I am left with no "real" connection to you I will still be your bonus mom.  I will hunt you down and check up on you and take care of you and tell you you're being a dumb-ass when you are.

Secondly, I was correct....you are a disaster.  But like I said earlier you are a beautiful disaster.  Every bad choice, and shitty plan and failed attempt has made you who you are.  It's made you humble and funny and gracious and loving.  No matter where you go or what you do don't ever lose those qualities.  You have the ability to laugh at yourself  - don't ever lose that either.  Life is a mother fucker.  It never gets easy the bills never go away.  The struggles change but generally they just get more expensive.

You will make some hideous decisions in life.  You will embarrass yourself and probably us too in the process. Don't ever let that stop you from moving forward.  I promise to tell you when you are being a moron and give you unsolicited advice even though I know you'll only take abut 2% of it. I also promise that none of that will ever change our love for you.  We will always be your home, the place you can come to if you need to get away or if you have no where else to go or if you just want family time.  You don't need to make an appointment or call.  If we're not home sit your ass down in your living room and wait...you ARE a part of this family.  This isn't limited by the amount of screw ups or how often we see you or what order we see you on for Christmas.  This just is.

You remind me so much of myself growing up.  Especially the whole tendency to take the most difficult path even though the easy one has been laid out 900 times by one of your parents...it's cool...been there and I'm still pretty much like that. It's ok to take our advice, but I get it when you don't.

Thank you for choosing to be a part of our family.  I know you could have walked away.  Thanks for taking that chance knowing I could have been a horrible bitch to deal with.  Thanks giving me someone to relive "the crazy days" with and for giving me a kid that I can hang out with and talk to and not have to monitor homework or bodily functions.  Thanks for getting my skewed sense of humor and not getting offended when I call you a dumb ass or laugh at your most recent debacle.

Lastly, I have one request for you.
You are the oldest of our kids and the one who remembers it from the beginning.  If anything ever happens to us it will be up to you to keep the little guys together and to keep our memories and stories alive, but most importantly when we are old and senile you will be in charge of setting up our nursing home.  Make sure all of those little bastards chip in because I don't wanna be holed up in Good Sam. in freaking Greeley.  I expect Boca or somewhere on the coast.  If you fuck this up I WILL haunt you....just saying.

Happy Birthday to my Biggest Terrorist  !  May you continue to grow and get better with age (and get more haircuts) but never change who you are on the inside.  That's already perfect.

I love you all the skittles in the world!








Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Hey Stay at Home Mom...Eff You!!!

Yeah - I said it...EFF YOU....you with all your staying home super mommy-ness.
...And I mean that as a compliment.  I'm also jealous.

I could probably swing being a stay at home mom financially, but I couldn't actually hack the day-to-day business of being a full time stay at home mom.  I wish I could say "I HAVE to work for financial reasons, but If I had my choice I'd be at home with my precious little spawn enjoying play-doh and finger painting."  That would be a damn lie.


As much as I love my kids I would go completely insane after the first 3 days (if I actually made it that long).  I don't like messes, I DESPISE play-doh and I suck at make-believe.  (Refer to my previous post...I'm not really sure why have all of these kids)

Every day I feel like I'm failing them in a million different ways.  When I wake them up at 6AM and send them to daycare with a cup of milk and a kiss I think about all of you that get up and watch cartoons and make Mickey Mouse pancakes and I envy the fact that you enjoy doing that.

When my kids come home with their finger-paint masterpieces I know that someone else was there to watch them create it and tell them what a good job they did.

I get on Facebook and see all of my stay at home friends posting pictures of Zoo trips, play dates and arts and crafts.  I notice the mess in the background and I see the kid covered head to toe in blue finger-paint.  I can tell that not one person in that picture cares about either.

In that moment I know I'm not cut out to be a stay at home mom. I would be faking the smile and having a coronary about the mess and the blue kid and already thinking about getting everyone cleaned and down for a nap.  I know this about myself and it makes me hate you and your happy mess just a little bit. (I mean that in the nicest way possible BTW)

I've found other ways to compensate:
With the extra finances we get to do fun things that we might not otherwise be able to afford.  The kids get to load up on sports, classes and activities that cost a fortune.  I dedicate my weekends to them to to make up for the 40 hours of absence.

They're a well rounded bunch and I don't think they feel un-loved or neglected, but I know.  I know the trade off that I choose willingly for my own sanity.

On good days I feel like it's ok -  I'm raising my kids (especially my girls) to be strong and independent.  They'll know that they can have a family and a career.
On shitty days (when you all plaster my feed with homemade cookies and noodle craft paintings) I know I'm missing the most important years of my kids life - 8 hours at a time and I want to stomp on all of your damn noodle paintings.

I wish I could be more like you stay at home moms- I wish I could enjoy it all or at least most of it.  But I cant...so in true Ashley fashion "Eff You stay at home moms!!!"  ;)


Can I ask one favor.....help a sister out.  Snap a picture of a tantrum or poop on the floor.  Something to remind me that your world isn't all roses either.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Scratch That...I am Completely Off My Rocker Crazy

So I lied - my last post I said I wasn't crazy..I was just a mom.
Apparently I lied, I'm absolutely, totally fucking insane (and it's all my kids' fault).  I'm talking about bent over sobbing into my knees in the garage praying for a cigarette to fall out of the sky kind of insane.

I remember years ago after I did something stupid my mom looking at me and telling me " I love you, but I really don't like you right now."  At that time I had no idea what she meant...how do you love someone but not like them.  That just didn't make sense.  I chalked it up to her being angry and saying crazy mom shit.

Not only did I utter those same words last night I now know EXACTLY what she meant.

See, I've got a 12 year old daughter who is intelligent, sweet, well spoken, beautiful, loving and hell bent on driving me FUCKING BAT SHIT CRAZY!  She's like an evil mastermind of making me loose my shit.  It's as if she's got a diabolical plan to actually find that limit that sends me to the crazy house.

See she doesn't look evil....
And it's all over homework folks.... I had dreams of her going to college and being something successful.  Now I just hope robots haven't taken over McDonald's positions in the next 16 years and she can find a job there.

To put this in perspective let me give you a run down of last night (and essentially every school night for the last 6 years) Kaitlynn gets home at 3:30 sits on couch with her thumb up her own ass not doing homework like we've asked her to do 3 trillion times.  Mom gets home at 5:30 and asks Kait to do homework.  Kait says she doesn't have much homework and asks if she can do it after dinner.  Mom agrees knowing in the back of her mind this is probably a really bad decision but hey she wouldn't just outright lie....WRONG.

At 6:40 Kait begins her homework.  She informs me that she has finished Math, and Reading and English and reports that she only has her vocab words left  to do.  Mom does a little happy dance in her head.  Maybe Kait is getting this after all.  (I should mention here that Kait has already been grounded for 3 weeks due to failing grades and "forgetting" homework)

  • At 7:30 Kait begins her 12 vocabulary words.  
  • At 8:00 I ask for a status.  She's still looking them up...
  • at 9:00 I catch her watching TV.  I only slightly lose my shit and make her move to a different chair at the table so she can't see the TV. (Did I mention she's 12 not 2) 
  • At 10:00 I again ask what in the holyfuckinghell is taking so long with the 12 vocabulary words. 
 Remember, she has an Ipad with a dictionary app to aid in this.  She doesn't even have to flip fucking pages!!!
  • At 11:00 she hands me her vocab book.  I think it's a joke.  There on the back of the book are her 12 words .  Inside contains four, FOUR fucking definitions!!! FOUR DEFINITIONS!!! It took her 3 and a half hours to write and define FOUR words using an Ipad and dictionary app.  
This is the exact moment that I lost my mind, but I manage to recover and not actually scream the obscenities that are banging around in my skull. That's until I walk by her pile of school work and notice a worksheet that isn't done.  Not any worksheet, the same worksheet that she told me she finished 3 hours ago.  When I bring this to her attention she tells me that she wasn't sure if it was homework or if she was supposed to do it...WHAT?

Clearly it's been a few years since I've been in school, but in my day teachers didn't send home worksheets that we weren't supposed to do.  That's just fucking stupid.  I calmly explain this (that's a lie - I was on the verge of hysterics) and am given the response that the teacher just gave it to them at the end of the day without saying a word, so that's why she's not sure if she's supposed to do it. 
(Now I'm screaming that we both know that's a lie and a really bad one at that.) So, I inform her that I am going to email this idiot teacher in the morning and ask why in the holy hell she would just throw a worksheet at my child with no explanation.   This is what I get next...verbatim "Well, maybe she said something, maybe I forgot or I wasn't listening, It might be homework.  I'll just do it to be safe"

Really It might?  You'll just do it in case?
I'd like to give you my response back, but I honestly can't tell you what I said.  I know there was A LOT of  screaming and probably cursing.  I think I asked her why she was trying to make me crazy.  I know I told her "I love you but I really don't like you"

Then I walked out to the garage and sobbed.  I sobbed because I lost my shit big time with my daughter.  I sobbed because I realized that I have to let her fail this time or she'll never learn.  I sobbed because I meant what I said - I love that little girl, but I really didn't like her at that moment and that felt horrible.  I sobbed because I didn't have a goddamned cigarette.  And I sobbed because I know I have another 6 fucking years to go....

I've decided to let go.  She is 12 and can manage her homework and if not she is old enough to suffer the consequences.  I will be there if she chooses to ask me for help but I will not do it for her.

I'm also going to call my mom and apologize profusely for being such a dick head kid.  I know how it feels now.

(Shit....it just dawned on me - I have 2 more kids to go...I don't have 6 years left...more like 15 years left.  Mom's gonna need some good pills and a shrink.)

I better get a kick ass nursing home out of one of these kids...


***as a side note I feel like I should add that calling the teacher an idiot above was totally sarcastic.  I have worked with Kait's teacher multiple times and know she actually wouldn't hand any of her students an assignment with no explanation. That comment was made to get the daughter to fess up to not telling the whole truth***

Monday, October 13, 2014

I'm not crazy....I'm a mom

So, I was talking to a friend of a friend this weekend when she mentioned my blog and the stories about the kids.  My response to her was "thanks - god I hope everyone reading it realizes that this is my attempt at humor."

I realize that my friends and anyone who knows me will already know this fact.  For the people who just happen on this blog or for my own kids when they're printing off their baby book:  RELAX!  Chill the fuck out and just laugh with me!!

All of the stories are in fact 100% true, but the decision to take tantrums and near death experiences with a grain of salt and lots of laughter is my choice and my way of maintaining my own sanity.  Yes, I call my kids names (terrorists & assholes) but not to their face.  That would be a really UN-mommy like thing to do.  Besides they'd just call the kids at school assholes and I'd be out yet another babysitter.

Anyway, I was thinking of this when I landed on a blog post form another site.  It's about all of the dark shit that comes with being a mother  (I know some of you guys were just made to be moms and it's been pure bliss and everything you ever expected...well fuck you that's not how it happened for me) I won't paraphrase it, but here is the link - it's a really good read.  ScaryMommy Blog - New Mommy Misery.

So in addition to my humor disclaimer I felt like this might be a good time let it all hang out in terms of being a mom and what I've experienced.  After reading the link above I realized that I agree; the not so pretty shit just isn't shared...or at least not enough.  Maybe I'm a little less insane than I thought.  Maybe some of you feel/felt the same way too.

See, I wasn't going to be a mother - ever.  Like never ever.  I was just looking forward to living on my own and not having rules.  I never dreamed of white weddings and babies.  (I've had 3 of each - what can I say I'm a fucking over achiever....)

Clearly that didn't pan out.  Big was totally unplanned, Boy Terrorist was a different story - he was anticipated just not planned, Tiny terrorist was also totally unplanned and mad me cry for weeks...

I didn't have a rough time with Big really.  She was a novelty at first and I had a lot of help.  Both sets of grandparents were less that 10 minutes from me and she was the first grand-baby on both sides.  Needless to say I had a lot of free time while she went to visit the grandparents.  I was 22 when I had her so I did miss out on some "going out"  but I still got a lot of good times in. On top of that she was an amazing baby.  Never fussy, not needy.  Really she was less work than a puppy.  But I was done.  It was challenging and just fulfilling enough.  No need to have another one... I didn't need to empress anyone with my ultra capable uterus.

Eight Years later came new husband with no kids of his own.  He was upfront and honest about the desire for his own child (never once has he treated Big any different than his own but he wanted to experience a baby.  Also, Big was 8 and has her own daddy.)  With that in mind we decided to "let nature take it's course"  I was prepared for a good 2-3 year practice time.  About 42 seconds after we made this decision I became pregnant.
He wasn't super happy to see me....

I was excited and happy and scared as hell.   I had an 8 year old.  She made her own breakfasts and didn't crap her pants. I was going back for another 3 years of cleaning someone else's ass and being up all freaking night at the whim of a tiny dictator.  I had a career this time, a job that I needed to be present for and a paycheck that we as a family depended on.  AND I WAS 30!!!  30 year olds can't stay up all night like 21 year olds. To top this off Hubby was working out of town after Boy terrorist was born.  He'd be gone  Mon-Thursday of every week and I went back to work when BT was 6 weeks old.

I worked all day, came home and cared for Big and boy Terrorist all night and did it again the next day.  In the back of my mind I wanted to scream and throw things.  This wasn't how I expected it to be.  I thought we'd be happy and all share in the baby stuff and ALL be home to share in the responsibilities.  A million times I actually thought to myself  "I didn't want another baby! Why am I stuck raising it while the husband gets to sleep in peace and quiet in a hotel room all week.  HE wanted this!  NOT me!"
I wanted to be the one away in a hotel.  Not the one cleaning up vomit and wiping runny noses.

To make things even more confusing when I looked at my new little one he melted my heart I knew that I loved him unconditionally. When I dropped him off at daycare I'd want to turn around and go back and get him.  I missed him that much.  Given the choice I wouldn't actually leave him and go stay in a hotel.  I would have quit my job if that were the price. 

But who do you tell that kind of shit to?  No one, for fear of looking like a whack job or even worse someone dismissing it as hormones.

Boy Terrorist & Tiny Terrorist
Along came baby 3 - Tiny terrorist was all that and then some.  I knew that we were done after boy terrorist.  Absolutely no need for a 3 - it didn't even occur to me.  Well, until that one night/morning.  Had a bit to drink...didn't check the "calendar".  I have a #3 so I'm sure we can all surmise what went down.

Take all of the feelings I had with #2 multiply that by 2, throw in the fact that daddy was still working out of town, add in that I now look like Rosie-fucking-O'Donnell from the neck down and don't forget the fact that these two are 15 months apart.

 I really, honestly thought I was going to lose my shit.  I fantasized about up and moving to the Bahamas  (alone).  I wanted to scream at my husband for doing this to me.  I wanted to scream at the babies for just being there.  I just wanted my own space and 5 minutes to myself.  Some days I just wanted my old life back.  Some days when both of the babies were happy and napping I figured - fuck it we might as well go for 4 or 5.  Just kidding - I wasn't that bat shit crazy.

So, I cried in the bathtub at night about what a fucked predicament  I was in and I pulled it together during the days and evenings for work and the kids.  (On the days that I wanted to sell 'em I faked it and played with them anyway.)

We're 3 years into this whole baby shit and a lot has changed while some things are exactly the same.  Daddy is now home and gets to share in the misery.  The babies have necks and attitudes and aren't always as cute and loveable as the were back then.  They are forming their own personalities and opinions now and while not always cute it is absolutely amazing to watch them grow together.  I rarely cry in the tub about my "situation" anymore.  I just don't have that luxury...if you have kids you know you're NEVER alone in the bathroom ever again anyway.  I do still think about running away.  I do still wonder what it would have been like had I not had kids and got to chase those dreams.  But I  also realize all of the things that I would have never experienced.

I have a husband that would go to the ends of the earth to make me happy and feel loved. Who loves all 3 of the mini's with a ferocity that  makes me fall in love with him all over again.  A partner to commiserate with when it's rough.  I have a Big that is turning into  remarkable young lady who actually enjoys helping with the terrorists.  I have 2 tiny dictators who are maddening but keep us all laughing and grounded.

I'm lucky beyond words but I still dream of that 20 year old girl that I was.  I wonder what it would have been like... 

And it doesn't make me crazy or unappreciative  - It makes me human.
It makes me a mom.


(by the way...daddy is fixed.  I put a stop to that shit)