One step closer to being free of Doodie Duty.

The potty has moved
slowly across the first floor
towards the bathroom

for a short time now,
and yesterday something cool
happened in that room.

A certain little
boy ran in, looked around and
chose the higher stool.

He WANTS to pee on
the toilet now and can do
it all by himself!

Now if we can just
address this annoying thing
called “shitting in pants.”

Ask a Lazy Douchebag

Since Miz Lotus so cavalierly announced what a lazy douchebag she was, she twittered some of her buds to guest post so she wouldn’t have to do it her own self.

My response was “Have you READ my blog lately?”

And then she revealed the depths and breadth of her lazy douchebagginess.

Because if she had read my blog lately, she would have seen that I am an even lazier douchebag of late.

Is this what they mean by irony?

Allow me to explain myself.

I work out of my home. It really does pay better than any job I could get where I would have to oh, say, shower, put on the hated bra, appropriate clothing, makeup,and then freeze my lazy arse on a commute.( Even better than the IT career I went to school for three years ago, graduated with honors, and could not land a job. They don’t like anybody over 20, it seems.)

Case in point: It’s 2:45 pm here. Still rocking the jammies.

Are you getting the sense yet just how lazy a douchebag I really am?

I work mornings. If there is something I need to do, errand wise, I screw up my face and try to decide if it is worth it to get dressed and go there. Usually, it can wait. I may cook something for supper or run the dishwasher in the afternoon, but any real cleaning has not been done since Christmas. Really. Sometimes, if there is nothing good on tv, I will work some more, just because it pays so well. I get to set my own hours. If I feel guilty. Like because the tree is still up, and I’m thinking the place is so huge, I could just throw a sheet over it and hide it in a closet, but then where would I store my empty wine bottles? So,basically, I only do extra work that gets paid when I need to justify the “I’m too busy to take down the tree” thing.

With all of this time for blogging available to me, I have not updated my own blog very regularly for about a month or so. I thought that if any of you are also lazy douchebags, you would enjoy the following how-to guide, sloppily written by me, because, apparently, sloppy and lazy are closely related.

How to blog when you are a lazy douchebag who seldom leaves the house

1. Bribe twenty-something offspring to do laundry because that? Involves a trip to the basement. My time is far too valuable for all the basement tripping thankyouverymuch.
2. Note that laundry mostly consists of pajamas and socks. There are no bras in my laundry, people.
3. Invite company over so I will have an excuse to cook a nutritious meal. In clean pajamas.
4. Bribe twenty-something offspring to make a trip to the liquor store for wine. I cleverly buy red wine, so that it needs no refrigeration.
5. Note that the dustbunnies are so big that I’m considering giving them names. Make that a big bottle of wine. Not the 4 litre box, that would just be dangerous.
6. Make a nutritious, yummy meal. Everybody has to eat. Even lazy douchebags.
7. Check that the humongous (about 8 oz capacity) wine glasses are clean. That way, there is less getting up and down after the meal to refill glasses. Most of the up and down is to recycle the wine. Even lazy douchebags have to pee.
8. Click one of my playlists on the computer after the meal is eaten. No sense getting up and down to select different music. No.
9. By the second glass of wine, feel somewhat loquacious, and commence telling stories to your guests.
10. Keep a notepad nearby so that the pesky getting up and down is minimized when your drunk arse wants to make a note of a story for a blog post idea.
11. Try to decipher handwriting the next day.
12. Make a judgement call if the handwriting is deciphered, of course. Is it a good enough story for the blog?
13. Lately, the criteria is more like can I read my handwriting?
14. When someone as fabulous as Lotus asks you to guest post, agree because you are too lazy to write a post for your own blog. Blogging for someone else does not make you any less of a lazy douchebag. My blog is being neglected. Since Saturday. That’s what really counts, isn’t it?
15. Hijack host blogger’s claim and trademark of lazy douchebag. Have a pissing contest of it. Show why you are more worthy of the title, even though she totally made it up. Because I? Am living it, baybee.
16. Encourage readers to subscribe because that way they don’t have to visit the blog if I haven’t updated. That is called spreading the lazy around.
17. Feel pressured to update since I am guest posting on a very widely read blog.
18. Look at the Christmas tree as something I could take down before I put up a new post.

I think your education is complete now. You actually can blog when you seldom leave the house. The trick is to be able to find people who will visit you while you are in your pajamas, telling them stories. Getting the blog post written? Sometimes that feels like twenty minutes I will never have again.

___________________________________________________________

Witchypoo is the winner of the 2008 Blogger’s Choice Awards for Freakiest Blogger.  She feels like an old friend, even though I’ve only known her since I’ve started blogging here.  I suppose maybe when you know someone can read your mind, and shit, you have no choice but to just feel that relaxed with them.
When she’s not challenging me for the Lazy Douche Crown, you can find her blogging at Psychic Geek.  Make sure you say hi to Ass Burger Boy while you’re there.

Just two words we often forget to say.

Braden has learned how to say “please,” when he wants something. He also says, “thank you,” and I’m struggling to make sure he understands how to use that phrase properly.

It’s so important.

Do you remember your senior year in high school? Teachers who were just so out of it? Do you remember all the things that were so very important to you?

So little that had previously been important to me was still important to me that year. I had always done well in school, had genuinely cared about my performance. Something shifted in me that year.

I just didn’t care anymore. College was just around the corner, and as such, you’d think I’d have been more worried than ever about letting my grade point average slip.

But no. I skipped classes. I diddled and ignored what was going on while I was in classes.

Some of my teachers doubted my actual abilities; how could they not? One of them for sure did not.

She wore stockings with open-toed sandles. Her hair was short and very permed. She spoke sort of strangely. She was totally into Beowulf. She was the perfect target for mockery and insult.

And that’s what I used as my shield of defense. While she worked to crack through my Senior Year Apathy and inspire the student she somehow knew was hidden within, I deflected her efforts by mocking her mentally. I made her into an icon of ridicule in my mind, so I wouldn’t have to admit to myself that she was right. That she cared.  That I should listen to her.

The soft-hearted part of me would have never been able to keep it up. Not if I allowed myself to see her as a real, caring person.

So I mocked her with friends. We made fun of the strange way she talked, her appearance, her quirks. We laughed, we told jokes.

I was obnoxious to her. I didn’t finish work on time. I tried to avoid her. She persevered and she got to me.

I told myself I was performing just to get her off my back. She taught me things. I wrote better and better. I saw her for real. I appreciated her. I did not admit it to anyone.

I never thanked her.

In college, my performance in English and with other writing was directly affected by her earlier attention to me. I applied things she coached me on when she was forcing her way persistently through the stupid shell I was sporting back then.

I never thanked her.

She used to come in to the Diary Queen where I worked while I was in college, with her husband, and she would ask me about how I was doing. She would tell me what a good English major I would make. That I could be an excellent writer. She was proud of me. It made me feel good about myself. I appreciated her.

I never thanked her.

I heard rumors through the grape-vine of a small town. And I began to see that she seemed more frail when she would come to the store with her husband.

I never thanked her.

One day, her husband came for ice cream alone. And every time after that, he was alone.

I had never thanked her.

The brain tumor had claimed her life, and for all that she gave me, I never thanked her.

I never thanked her.

Just two words, but a huge regret.

Thank you, Mrs. Tester.  Thank you.  I’m sorry it was so hard for me to learn how important it is to say those words.

Thank you.

Group Haiku Jumble!

I asked you wonderful people to write Haiku for me the other day.

HOLY MOTHER. Now THAT was quite a mess for me to sort out!

I took full editorial license, and these are the Haiku I pieced together. Thanks for writing for/with me, my lovelies! Ya’ll rock.

***********

Some of you could not help but write whole Ku on your own:

Haiku simple? Yes!
I have hunky geek hubby.
who can fix my shit.

This one has an extra syllable on the first line… but it turned out cute b/c of that…

what a cool idea!
oops, is that two syllables?
there are my THREE cents…

I edited this one very lightly…

It’s the bastards who
end early without even
a ‘now now now’ hint.

*

Summer was blissful
Pajamas stayed on all day
Reading, playing, fun

Our homeschool started
Yesterday was the big day
No tears! Yay! Success

*

I can has laptop?
Sacrifice digital lamb
To buy service plan

*

Sidetracked by knowledge
Opportunity to aid
With technology rare

*

Hope it is fixed soon
Hope your ‘net is again linked
You can’t post, I’m sad

***********

The rest of this is pieced together by single lines left in comments. I think it ended up pretty well with a little work!

Each line now links a separate person who wrote that line. (I’ve done some light editing, but not much. Italicized lines were written by me to hold together bits and pieces that didn’t fit anywhere else.)

Oh, I guess I’m first.
Wish luck on her computer
Blue Screen of Death SUCKS

crappy diapers mound
Briefly, the rain fell tonight.
will techy geeks deliver?

If you flirt with them?
They just might come through for you…
…fingers and toes? Cross’d.

To end your comp woes
you should get yourself a mac
“SHOW ME THE MONEY!”

One wagers a guess -
hard drive cables are the culprit
but then maybe not.

Using black marker -
Those Sharpies can rock your world!
Go.Back.To.Paper.

Compie, be nice please
Software, hard drive, whatever
Need my porn again

Addicted, can’t stop!
Laptop dream, please be granted
Or else I might weep

Keep clicking the cam!
Missing the Mexican pics….
and all the others

Some people say that
a Mac does it much better
but ANY comp works

waiting your return
praying for your dear compie
and your precious files

*

First day of school here
Hot computer geeks, for real?
Mind blank over here

Maybe geeks are hot…
watch out for the nerdy ones!
Pocket protector?

*

You touched no-no, no?
Please tell me you didnt touch!
You could get cooties!

*

thank God it’s Friday
eating bagel, read’n blogs fun.
Crumbs on my keyboard.

*

Flipping through paper,
Thought of your blog on Sunday.
Lushy haikus rule!

*

Sarcasm is Queen
Really, do you think I care?
Think again, tootsie!

*

Someone wrote a lot!
That paragraph is not ‘ku….
So this is now borked.

But I’ll restart it.
Concentrate now, please… okay?
We can get through this!

Couldn’t help myself…
Sorry my comment broke form.
“oh no you didn’t!”

pressure to perform
I miss Lotus’s sarcasm
she totally rocks

Brain has gone to sleep…
Some people can’t seem to count.
Haiku simple, yes?

Uh, well, maybe not?
Oh my Gosh, the pressure sucks.
Words, words, everywhere!

Will it turn out right?
Big Sigh. Where is this going?
At least it’s been fun.

And fun it was! You guys made me laugh. Thanks so much for playing my game! Maybe we can do it again? <3

Where I ramble on and lose your interest.

(If your eyes glaze halfway through, at least read the last bit, okay?  Pinky swear you will.)

So, I wanted to make a clarification after yesterday’s post.

No one emailed me or commented anything to move me to do so, btw.  I just tumble things around in my head a lot, and sometimes lots of things occur to me about what I’ve said that did not originally ocurr to me.  Okay, sometimes?  ALL the time.

Call me slow on the uptake, or something.  Just don’t call me, “Fluffly McNutterButter.”  Don’t ask.  Just don’t call me that.

I wanted to make sure that people understand that I really do love being a mother.  I am not committing myself to making my family suffer so that I can do this writing/blogging thing. 

[The only thing I would willingly make my family suffer for is a free Dyson.  I'd strap their asses to a medievel torture rack for one.  Or railroad ties.  Or dangle them from a balcony in front ot the media.  You know, anything incredibly dangerous and irresponsibly insane.  DYSON PEOPLE, are you paying ANY attention to me yet?!]

In no way am I saying, “I’m willing to deny Braden the time with me that he needs, because I just feel like hangin’ out over here being selfish and stuff with my keyboard and typish thingies and my digital camera whatsidoogie.”  And somehow, I feel the need to blow a valley-girlesque bubblegum bubble and pop it with my cherry red press-on nails afer the way I just typed the previous quote.  But I have neither bubble gum nor press-on nails, so I’m gonna have to miss out on that for now.

If I did think, for one minute, that writing for this website, or any other, was doing detriment to Braden as a person, or harming our family, I would drop off The Mighty Interwebs.  In a heartbeat.  But honestly, I just don’t think that’s the case.  Not here, anyway.  So that’s not what’s happening.

What I am going to be doing is enlisting John to help me carve out some specific time to work on things of the “me” variety.  I’ve been trying really hard to juggle everything on my own, and what has ended up happening is a lot of not sleeping very much and letting myself get run down.  Generally, I’ve been staying up very late to work on things around here, and frankly, that just makes me a crappy mother, because it shortens my fuse considerably.  I need to be gettin’ my ass in bed at an hour that would make any grandma proud.

All apologies to any Rock’nRoll Grandmas who might have been offended by that last statement.

Also, a couple of you made reference to the “job” I referred to in yesterday’s post.  I wanted to point out that I wasn’t talking about a “real” job so much as I was talking about this website.  It’s my “not really paid” job (unless you count the ad revenue, and really, that ain’t sendin’ Braden to college, ya dig?)… but it’s a job, because I put myself on a schedule and I expect a certain level of performance from myself.  Does that make sense?  Not that I make it unpleasant by doing that, because it’s still my website and I can do/write/say/post/etc anything I want.  That’s liberating.  But expecting a certain standard of things (stop laughing at me for saying I have standards) from myself here also makes this something to me that is important, and not just a plaything.

And that means something to me, inside.  Ya dig?  It’s like what a “real” job does for your psyche.

That being said?  I do have a couple of fun new gigs starting up, thank you so much for asking! :-P  Neither is a paying gig, either.  Either I’m a glutton for punishment, an Attention Whore, or I really do enjoy this whole “writing thing.”  You decide.

So…

I’m officially one of four contributing authors on a new ”Moms” column, “From the Mouths of Babes,” at Quirkee.com.  Please check the website, and the column, out.  There are great writers and cartoonists there, and quality content you are bound to enjoy!  I’ll be publishing a piece there every fourth Thursday (starting THIS Thursday!).  On other Thursdays, you’ll find great stuff on our column by the lovely and talented ”Babes,” Piper, Kadi, and dKaye, as well as many other articles and interesting content across the board on the website.

I’m also on the cusp of being a contributing author for Deep South Moms, a blog that is part of the Silicon Valley Moms Group.  The site abounds with amazing women writers, as do the other blogs in the group.  Lovelies you’ll find contributing at DSM include the ladies of Queen of Shake-Shake, BlondeMomBlog, Milkbreath & Margaritas, Mommy Needs Coffee and many more.  There is definitely a “tall glass of southern sass” being served up there daily.  So mosey on over yonder, ya’ll, take a load off and have a look’see.

 

So, there ya have it.  Much more than you wanted to read about me and my thoughts, dreams, and plans on a random Tuesday.

What’s up in your life this lovely Tuesday, eh?

 

Looking back over my shoulder, and then towards the horizon.

So, I’m still thinking a lot about how much time I spend being a Momma, and how much time I get to just be me.  And the disparity.  And how I need to manage that better, and have help doing so. 

Thinking about what I need to be a mentally healthy, happy person.

Thinking about how I need to carve out something that’s my own, and to myself.  You know, time for me to just step to the side, alone, and say, “Leave me alone right now.  I need to just be me for a little while.” 

 

I LOVE this gig as mother and wife, don’t you DARE get me wrong.  But, people, I am MORE than that.

see…

Before my son and my husband, I actually existed and had interests and desires!  Oh.  My.  Gah.

I was this functioning, complex, driven person before a human being was thrust forth from my nethers. 

I was a dreaming, aspiring, determined to go and do and become! person before I ever heard that sweet Texan drawl on the other end of the phone line back in 2001.

Who I am and the direction I’ve been pointed in has changed in so very many ways in the past several years.  The way the wind has blown for me has constantly changed, it has whipped me this way and that, and I was lucky enough to be able to let myself float along with that ferocious breeze. 

You see, some time ago, I said, “Self?” 

And My Self said, “Yup, Loter?” 

And I said, “Self, I’m kinda scared, because I had all these really specific plans for Us.  And, um, Self, things might go weird if We grab ahold of this sail and let the wind whip Us somewhere else.” 

And My Self just leaned back and said, “Hmm, is that so?” 

And I said, “Yeah, Self.  I’m really kinda scared.  But I think it might be interesting, too.” 

And My Self raised an eyebrow and said, “Ya think?” 

And I said, “Yeah, I do.  And that We might regret it if We let that sail pass Us by.” 

And My Self?  Well, it just smiled and said, “Well, then, what are We waiting for?”

And we grabbed the sail.  And we let the wind fill it and carry us away from all of our special plans.  And it showed us lots of other things we never knew were in store for us.

Very many good things have befallen this lady’s self.  A few bad things have trampled on her, as well.  And she has learned very much about Her Self.

And now?  I’ve been doing this thing right here for a little over nine months.  That’s right, this website has gestated for a complete term, and it is… well, it’s helping me birth the realization that I am actually DOING some things here that I have a talent for! (Right?  Please tell me I’m not completely delusional.) and which I thoroughly ENJOY!

The photos, the writing, the sharing, philosophizing, and pondering out loud, with wordage, to all of you.

I feel I am becoming something better.  I feel I am finding my place in the world.

And people, I can’t let anything stop me.  It’s time for some serious time-management strategies.  Momma’s got a job here on Teh Internets, ya’ll.  And even though it pays little more than extreme satisfaction at the ability to create, and do, and even become!, Momma is gonna stick with it, folks.

My Self and I?  We just bought a compass.

I guess what I’m saying is, can’t we all just get along, bitches?

Sometimes, when I’m surfing around Ye Olde Blog World, I notice, here and there, some rather harsh words relating to the whole “Mommy Blogger” Trend. The harshness seems to be multiplied when referring specifically to the Stay-At-Home breed of MB’s.

I try not to get offended. It ain’t easy, because:

1) I’m stupidly sensitive and ridiculously, pathetically easy to hurt.

2) Ack. I’m a “Mommy Blogger” (the SAHM breed), and those rude comments? Could be directed at me, easily.

(I realize that they are not, but I’m into taking things personally. It’s part of my Mental Issues thing.)

It’s funny. (You know, not funny-ha-ha, and not funny-queer, but funny-f’ed up.) I see people say things out there like how if you stay home all the time with your kid(s), you aren’t a “real person” with your own identity. Or maybe they mention that if you talk about your kids every day, or even quite often (especially if you talk about their fecal habits or post “inappropriate” photos of them), you are clearly vacuous.

[Oops. I happen to talk about my kid's fecal habits. And I'll mention now, some people have told me that my photos of Braden are inappropriate, and should not be posted all over the Internet for "pedophiles to drool over." Rather, they should be kept private. (Thanks for your opinion!)]

Further? It seems that there’s a group of people out there, for whom, just saying, “Oh, that’s just not for me,” is not enough to get their feelings across on the whole matter. For some reason, there is a need to actually flame “Mommy Bloggers,” and to put them down in an extremely derogatory fashion. I’ve seen comments out there like, “Mommys make me sick and wouldn’t go near one of their blogs with a ten foot pole.” Wow, alrighty.

I want to point out that I quite understand that no one will like every type of website. I mean, I’m not hittin’ up the Automotive Blogs every day, because I just don’t care for them. Besides, who has time for Automotive Blogs when you surf as much Asian Porn as I do?

But I digress.

My point here is, you don’t like something, cooool, but there’s this condescending, derogatory undertone I’m noticing; this sense that talking about your kid(s) often is just completely intolerable. As in, you know, it would make you sick to have to read that. As if it were all about bashing in the heads of bunnies with a mallot, or extolling the virtues of Martha Stewart’s Towel Line at JCPenny. I mean, THAT I could see throwing up over.

Sometimes, the indication is even that if the SAHM would just get a job and do more outside of the home then they could be considered to be an actual, intelligent woman with a life. Someone with a brain. WTH, people? Have we taken such a huge step backward as women – hell, as people - that we can’t just SUPPORT ONE ANOTHER no matter what our decisions in life are?

So, here I sit, feeling stupidly offended and ridiculously, pathetically hurt.

**Not asking anyone to come to my rescue. There is no “troll” to hunt down, no bashing to be done. Let us not form a mob today. (We’ll save the pitchforks and fire for another day, eh?)

I just want to “talk” about this for a minute. And maybe “listen” to you guys have some intelligent discourse on the matter when I’m done.

Pretty please?

See, on a personal note, the thing is this:

This is a season in my life. I have, in my short 31 years, already been through a variety of phases and stations in life. I have occupied many different roles, and continue to do so today.

My opinions, feelings, beliefs, and values have changed over time, and also continue to do so (maybe I’m just a flake!)

I’ve been the Curious Kid, the Ambitious Pre-Teen, the Angst-Filled Teenager, the Party-Hardy Young Adult.

I’ve been a Slacker, Driven College Student, Hopeful Graduate Researcher, Disillusioned Degree Seeker.

I’ve been an Ice Cream Scooper, Weight-Loss Trainer, Milk-Shake Maker, University TA (Teacher), Retail Temp Worker, the Manager of an Upscale Store.

I’m a High School Graduate, College Graduate (BA), and Grad School Graduate (MA).

I’ve been Drama Club Dork, Band Geek, Phi-Kapp-Phi, Psi Chi.

I was Magna Cum Laude. And I will still laugh at the middle part of that.

I’ve been a Daughter, Sister, Best Friend, Jerk, Worst Enemy, Girlfriend, Cheater, Ex-Girlfriend, Mistress, Betrayed Wreck, Lost Soul, Fiancee, and Wife.

Now I’m a Momma, Mommy, Mother, Mom.

I’m a Woman. A Person.

I’ve been an Atheist, Agnostic, Christian, Other.

I have FREAKED OUT on people. I have held my tongue and moved on.

I’ve been a Thief.

I’ll even admit to having been, to some degree, no matter how small, Racist, Sexist, Homophobic, Righteous. (Feel free to throw stones. Just make sure to step out of your glass house first.)

I’ve also been Moral, Just, Tolerant, Humble, Meek.

I’ve Wronged, Grudged, Apologized, Forgiven and Been Forgiven.

I’ve learned and grown and changed and loved. I laughed, cried, rejoiced, wanted to die, and just been mellow.

I’ve regretted, hoped, wished, and planned.

I’ve done wrong and I’ve worked to make things right.

I’ve been compassionate after being judgemental, and understanding after being intolerant.

I’m a Woman. A Person.

I used my heart, body, and mind (BRAIN) all the way from there to here.

Now is when I have a website where I talk about my current station in life, and the experiences related to that. Now I happen to be a mother who is not gainfully employed outside of the home (label me whatever you want – “Mommy Blogger,” SAHM, Ignorant Loser, PunkAssBitch – whatevs).

I will talk about my child. Often. Shit is an experience I’ve had with him. I’ll talk about it. I’ll also say lovey-dovey, sickly sweet and annoying things about my feelings for him. I will post photos of him that I think celebrate his beauty, without worrying who lives down the street from me or what “weirdos” are viewing this website online, because that’s not how I live my LIFE.

Others will judge. So be it.

When I started this website, I didn’t even know about the whole “Mommy Blogger” thing. While I had recently discovered her blog and loved it to pieces, I didn’t know that Dooce had planted a seed that blew up like gang-f’in-busters and that fifty-gagillion other moms decided to write about theirs lives and kids, too, as I was embarking on just that enterprise.

I just want to talk about what floats my boat right now, ya dig? I want a creative outlet where I can celebrate exactly who I am right now (and maybe talk about who I used to be, and who I might become, too!). I want to create a history of this time in our lives for my family. I’m a mother, and I’m not ashamed that I stay at home and devote my time here. For now, it is what I choose to do, and I am lucky to have that choice. Later, it may all change. Let’s see where life continues to go, right?

Incidentally, I use this website to broaden my horizons and practice other interests I have, such as writing and photography. And, of course, I have other hobbies and interests that I’ve never even mentioned here. But, alas, when they pick apart the “Mommy,” they judge with slanted eyes while viewing just a slice of life. Just the portion you’ve had time to tell.

Like I said, it may be a little ridiculous that I am even offended. I don’t feel that I fit the derogatory “definition” I see out there of the so-called “loser Mommy” who “has no life outside her children.” And yet, somehow, I feel that perhaps many women are being crammed into that category just because The Crammers are in short supply of actual facts, and in a hurry to judge those who have chosen a different path than their own.

Do not assume that I do not have a brain or that I am not a real person with a real identity just because of this station in my life, or just because I rejoice in and focus on things that are different than those which you rejoice in and focus on.

And I will not assume just as rude, ignorant, and short-sighted things about you.

Deal?