Rock And Drool

Posted By Melissa on July 3, 2009

Happy 4th of July.
Enjoy the day, however you and your family choose to celebrate it.
Don’t light fireworks while drunk. You could lose a finger or worse, y’know!
We were going to have a party but we waited until the last minute so, our party will be with another couple and their children. We’ll just be hanging out here swimming, having a little bar-b-que and having an illegal fireworks display. Chances are, we’ll leave the firework containers in the street until Sunday, and our neighbors, who will enjoy the display tomorrow night, will sneer at us on Sunday morning. Or maybe they’re used to our messes by now.
What are your plans?

XOXO

Category: my life | No Comments »
Tags: celebrating 4th of july, july 4th

Posted By Melissa on July 2, 2009

Every morning he circles the pool, arms clasped at wrists behind his back. Walking around. Inspecting every nook. Cranny. And filter. For toads.

He usually turns up with some critter that he saved from being vacuumed by the butler robot thing that lives in the pool. Sometimes, he turns up with more than some.

This morning. Pounding on the screen door with his tush. Because I’ve grilled into his head that he is NOT to touch ANYTHING with slimy toad hands until he is properly anti-warted.

I opened the screen that leads out to the patio. He is dancing excitedly, showing me all these green things in his hands. Dark green. Medium green. Toad green. FROG green. Different shades of non-mammal-type green.

“Look Mommy! Aren’t they so cute!?”
He loves toads. He waits impatiently all winter, just so he can go toad hunting all summer.
“Mommy. I’m putting the toads back in the garden. Because that’s where they live. In the garden. Like trolls, Mommy. But the frog…is miiiinnnee.” He announces.
“OK.” I say. “Just put him in the tank with the turtles.”
We did.
We put him in the tank. With two painted turtles. Thinking that it’s just like the ecosystem from whence they came. We’re emulating a pond, smells and all, right there in my basement. All those little green creature should be very happy.
BIG. Mistake.
So.
We introduce Slimy the frog to Noah and Boss, the painted turtles. They said a big “whut up” to each other. It was going along famously.
We left them alone, so they could get to know each other. Hang out. Talk pond slime.
And we go about our day.
Later. When we went to check on how the three were getting along. Noah, Boss and Slimy. Frolicking in their fake pond, presumably. We were in for a shock.
Slimy had gone missing.
Only, there was nowhere for him to go missing to.
We looked at Noah. Who couldn’t meet our eyes.
We looked at Bossy. Who couldn’t keep a straight face.
And we knew.
Slimy wasn’t missing.
Slimy…had been lunch.
Those turtles, who we had risked our lives by buying turtle supplies on Craigslist for.
Those ungrateful turtles, who are living the lap of luxury. Who have every turtle need. And every turtle want. Given to them, within that stench-ridden pseudo-pond in my basement.
Ate their visitor. Their fellow pond dweller brother…or sister. How can you tell anyways?
Without a second thought.
Leaving no evidence that the little frog had ever been there.
Leaving us, the inhabitants of the home that houses their pit of death…
Worrying about our fates, when they grow to full size.
We can almost hear evil laughing to each other, warning us to be afraid. Be very, very afraid.
So before that happens.
Before they go on and become some Demonic Teenage Mutant Ninja Killer Turtles From Hell (after all, there has to be some truth to all those horror movies, right?)
I’m thinking, there has to be some good recipes on Google…
for Painted Turtle Soup, that calls for 2 small turtles.
Mwahahaha…

Category: crazy family, my life | 4 Comments »
Tags: amphibians, frogs, painted turtles, turtles eat frogs

Posted By Melissa on July 2, 2009

Is it completely necessary to post every single day?
Without fail?
Sometimes more than once a day?
Will we lose friends if, by chance, we take a breather for a day or so and concentrate on…oh, maybe crocheting that chemo cap promised to a co-worker.
Or well, maybe, looking into getting a little story published.
Or folding and putting away laundry which has overtaken not only the dining room table but, the dining room, as well.
Or maybe reading that book, The Historian, that you bought ages ago but have yet to pick up.
Do you lose respect or interest in a blogger friend if the blog isn’t updated on a daily basis?
What keeps you coming back to a blog, anyways?
If a blog hasn’t been updated, do you peruse the archives?
Well, the vault doors to my archives are wide open to you today.
Because, I just don’t have any juices flowing for a post right now.
XOXO

Category: blogging | 9 Comments »
Tags: blogging, going a day without posting, i'm not updating my blog

Posted By Melissa on July 1, 2009

I’m a stay at home mom. It’s the role that I CHOSE to take. I’m lucky that I was allowed to. From both my marriages. It was a unanimous decision on my part and whichever fill in the blank husband I had at the time. OK, that sounds bad, seeing as, I’ve only been married twice and I’m still married to the second. But, carry on then.

Recently, I started working a few hours per week at my dad’s office. Really, it’s nothing major. But I enjoy the few dollars I earn, which I’m able to pocket or use frivolously. Because truthfully, the couple of pennies I make a week, doesn’t help much with the bottom line. It just keeps me from using too much of it So my husband embraces the fact that I can afford to pay for my own mani/pedis. Or take myself out for sushi with my friends. He is thankful that he doesn’t have to worry that our electric bill payment will bounce because I was having too much fun on company time.

Today though, I noticed something. And before I go ahead and tell you about my mini-epiphany, I want to clarify something. I’m not getting involved in the whole SAHM and the mommy’s in the work force. Because, quite frankly, that’s an entirely different thing. Which, I have a HUGE opinion about. Not here though. This…is about me and my little 3000 square foot kingdom and it’s inhabitants.

I work with some women who work full time. They are also, full time moms.
I was eavesdropping on my dad’s secretary as she was talking to her son on the phone. Explaining to him that he should get himself a bowl of cereal and then take whatever dosage of Motrin, for his headache he claimed to have. I could hear his Charlie Brownesque part of the conversation. But her answers were matter of fact and with no doubt, she knew her son would be able to competently take care of himself, until she returned home that evening.

Which got me to thinking. Seriously, my thinking isn’t a very good thing. We know this about me, right?!

I have 5 kids, right?! Well, these five kids have been used to me being home. Some of them, for their WHOLE lives. The other two, for the last 8 years, almost their whole lives. They…are so NOT self-sufficient. Not a single one. Quite useless, actually. Cute though.

My working counterparts, their children know how to make themselves meals.
My kids, they sit and wait to be served. They can’t even get a plate and silverware.

My working counterparts, their children know how to entertain themselves.
My kids, they sit and wait for me to get home. Then they whine about being bored and hungry.

I could go on and on. And I know that a lot of it is me and my mothering. These kids have been overindulged for their whole lives. Heck, I still wipe my 5 1/2 year old sons butt after he poops. Don’t stare, it’s not polite.

My kids tell me to jump. And after I shout profanities at them for expecting me to do their bidding. I go ahead and do their bidding. But…I KNOW this about me. So do they. And they take advantage. I get mad. But do it anyway. A vicious cycle. The poor future spouses of my children, I’m so sorry!

I never noticed it, so blaringly obvious before. This is the first summer I worked, even those few piddly little hours, outside the home. And it’s also the first summer that not all my children went to camp. So it never truly mattered before.

But today, as I was working. I couldn’t help think to myself…
Damn, I’d better hurry and finish what needs to be done, or my two kids that are home…they might starve to death.

I kept looking at the time.

I ran home when everyone else left for lunch.

The two were still up in their rooms on their laptops. And the first thing they wanted to know was, what was I planning on making them for lunch. They were dying of starvation.

Seriously.

Sigh.

Category: crazy family, my life, work | 12 Comments »
Tags: dependent children vs. independent children, kids of stay at home moms, sahm, working moms

Posted By Melissa on June 30, 2009

This post was inspired by a post over at my new friend Michelles blog, My Managed Chaoswho wrote a post about dieting.

It’s always been a struggle. My own personal cross to bear. We all have them, I know.
I’m a thin person, stuck in a fat persons body. Sometimes.
I’m a fat person, stuck in a thin persons body. Sometimes.
Up for three years.
Down for two years.
Up for one year.
Down for 6 months.
Yo. Yo. Yo. Yo.
Never able to just be. Never a happy medium.

I have no will-power.
Food. It’s not my friend. It’s a bitter enemy. Because I can’t enjoy it. I have internal, passionate struggles with every morsel of food that I put in my mouth. I shouldn’t. I should. Oh, what the hell, you’ve already eaten almost the whole thing. You might as well finish it off, pigface.
I beg to myself, in my head, to stop shoving those cheese-its into my mouth. My head talking. My hands and mouth…ignoring.

Some days, my stomach screaming to be fed. And the rest of me, ignoring it’s grumbles and growls. Only to break down and shovel. Like a closet eater. Only, in the open. Sitting with a box of cereal at the kitchen table. Proudly? Not so much.

Yes, I know. I should exercise. And I do. Sometimes.
Then I don’t. For a long time.
Then I do. Obsessively.
Like a tennis match. Back and forth.

I wrote a post called Getting My Sexy Back, back in May.
Both the weight and sexy, consistently inconsistent. The bane of my existence.
I want to own myself. Whichever part of the yo-yo I’m at.
It’s not even about self confidence anymore.
Because, I’m confident.
It’s not even about being sexy.
Because at this point, sexy doesn’t matter.
I want to find that balance between the up and down of the yo-yo.
That stabilization.
That happy medium.
To be able to eat without regret. And doubt. And worry.
To find that nirvana with food.
Where it’s not a diet.
Or a way of life.
It just…is.
And then, I’ll worry about getting my sexy back.

Category: my life | 8 Comments »
Tags: binge eating, diet, frustration with weight, gaining weight, losing weight, starving

Posted By Melissa on June 30, 2009

Category: crazy family, my life | Enter your password to view comments
Tags: being a second wife, blended families, children, families, in-laws, parents

Posted By Melissa on June 28, 2009

It’s summer in the Kingdom.
The air is warm. And humid. Sometimes too warm and too humid.
The sun is shining brightly. Making it warmer. And more humid. Unfortunately, our Reigning Queen doesn’t enjoy going swimming because of a hair color disaster at the beginning of the school year. And a few extra pounds makes for a beached whale effect.

The birds are chirping chipper-ly. Right smack dab, directly in the window of the Queens mecca of love room. Bright and 6am early. Cutting the beauty sleep way too short. Although, perhaps the Queen should stop twittering until 2 am, and go to sleep earlier.

The grass is green. Although, it’s definitely greener on the other side of the street. Perhaps the Queen should bug the King to find out who their lawn care people are.

Children are running amok throughout the kingdom.

Well really. Only the Queens children are running amok. The rest of the children, throughout the entire land, are at camp. Either all day. Or…*gasp* overnight. For a month. A whole month.

The Queen tried. She signed her children up for various camps.
Her beautiful princess Curly Q. She was signed up for a camp that went to different destinations, every single day. She was also signed up for royal sleep away camp, for three weeks at the end of the summer.
But the beautiful Curly Q. Would much rather stay home. And follow her mother, the Queen, throughout the castle and the kingdom, whining about how bored she, the princess, is.

The Queen mother. She sighs. A lot.

The Queen tried. She offered to sign her oldest son, Prince Hairy, up for royal sports and adventure camp. But Prince Hairy. He would much rather stay home. And follow his mother, the Queen, throughout the castle and the kingdom, whining about what video games he wants.

The Queen mother. She sighs. Even more.

The Queen tried. She took her youngest son, Prince Paininthebutt, to day camp. Every day. After fighting with him to get dressed. And after fighting with him to get in the car. And after fighting with him to get out of the car and go try to be sociable with kids his own age.
But her youngest child. He would much rather stay home. And make his mother, the Queen, run after HIM throughout the castle and the kingdom, screaming at him to get his clothes back on. And to not pee in other peoples bushes. And…

The Queen mother. She sighs. Deeply. VERY deeply.

She doesn’t understand why, in the kingdom, these kids want to be home all day. And why, they refuse to call their friends, although few and far between, who didn’t go to camp.

And why her children. The precious fruit of her labor and loin. Why do they want to be with her all day. To follow her around. To whine. To demand. To disobey. To make her sigh deeply. And SCREAM loudly.

And wishes that she, the Reigning Queen Supreme, was once again a princess. And was once again, waiting at the end of the castle driveway for the royal camps transportation to come and take her away.

The Queen, in her youth, never wanted to be home. She never wanted to follow her mom around. Whining. Demanding. Disobeying.

There was PLENTY of time for that, during the school year.

And the Queen. She sighs.

Category: Uncategorized, the kingdom | 10 Comments »
Tags: bored kids, camp, kids, kids don't want to go to camp, no camp, summer

Posted By Melissa on June 27, 2009

Before I begin, I want to say that this post is not directed at anyone in particular. It really is just a delayed response to a tweet that I read from a couple of weeks ago. One which really annoyed me. But I let it marinate, figuring after a while, I would forget about it. And I didn’t. So, it’s done marinating. It’s time to hit the coals.

I’m not a social climber. Never have been. Not in real life, or in the blogosphere. Yet, I watch it happening. In both parts of my world. Climbing to get ahead. It’s a part of life. One that has always repulsed and disgusted me. People become friends with people to get ahead. Bloggers attaching themselves to bloggers, so they can try to get ahead. It’s part of the whole Lemming phenomenon that I’m so against.

I saw a tweet a few weeks ago. It read something along the lines of a warning, letting us little bloggers know that the bigger bloggers can smell us out when we try to social climb. It was such a bitchy, arrogant tweet. I actually had responded and then deleted it. Because I wasn’t going little myself to someone who thought herself to be a better than. Besides, that tweet wasn’t @ me. And my response was so nasty. I didn’t ever want people to think of me the same way I think of that woman who posted that tweet. Simple enough.

I’ve never been part of a gaggle. I’ve always had a few very close and dear friends. That’s how I roll with my blog friends too. Mwah…love you! But, I have the capacity for more friendships. I’m not cliquey. Why not have horizons that are expanding and expansive. Room for everyone. Plenty of good karma, comments and tweets. I’m all about sharing my silliness. And love hearing yours.

If I respond to a tweet. Or if I leave a comment on a blog. It’s not because I am trying to get ahead, in any way. If I’m going to get ahead, it’s going to be all me and my shit, baby. Not because I’m leaving comments with the so called, right people. Quite frankly, I barely even know who the right people are, anyway. I live in a box. What can I say. I’m self-involved like that. Listen, I have 5 kids and tons of laundry. It’s hard enough keeping the names of the kids that live with me straight. How the heck am I supposed to know which bloggers ego I’m supposed to be stroking.

I’m so sick of responding to tweets that touch me in some way, whether it be funny or emotional. To people who are allegedly, following me. To get no response.

That’s fine. You don’t need to answer. We don’t have to be friends. I was just trying to comment or give support or…whatever. I wasn’t back@chyaing you to step on your head to get to the next big thang. That’s not me. Rest assured. But just know, it’s optional. We are not obligated to follow each other.

You may not like, or agree with, or find me to be humorous. I’m plenty OK with that. But don’t ever. EVER. Think that I’m using my 140 characters on the ubiquitous and proverbial you, to gain popularity.

Quite frankly, this homie don’t play that way.
I’m too busy trying to walk a straight line without tripping and spraining my ankles. I shudder at the thought of climbing a ladder.

Category: blogging | 37 Comments »
Tags: bloggers, responding to a tweet, social climbing, twitter

Posted By Melissa on June 26, 2009

I am having the hardest time putting together a post. I know some of it is because I have a lot of STUFF floating around my brain. It’s on overload, overdrive, and overabundance. Nothing is cohesively coming together. Just from today, I have three posts drafted. Not a single one complete. Talk about frustration. Three posts. With nothing to show for it. Because I can’t. I’m a little, shall we say, stuffed up.

If I could write a post. Today. I would tell you about the NKOTB concert that I saw last night at DTE Energy Music Theater. I would, if I could, tell you how colorful and interesting the crowd of mostly all women were, at the jam packed, almost sold out show. We would discuss the fact that, based upon all the tats and piercings of these chicks, one would feel as if they had come to a Kid Rock concert by mistake. Also, I would tell you the fear I had of making eye contact with a few of these interesting looking characters, in case I found myself bloodied and battered on the urine filled bathroom floor. And that would have sucked because I was wearing really cute pants. I would laugh with you about the fact that it is almost ridiculously asinine that grown middle aged men still call themselves kids. Talk about a Peter Pan Complex. Really, Middle Aged Men Living In The Past, would be a much more appropriate name. MAMLITP. But then THAT would describe most everyone’s husbands, and not a bubble gum band. I would giggle at the memory I was sharing with you, of cringing at what they considered to be harmonizing, which made me teeth curl. And we’d belly laugh together because the New Kids proved that white boys from Boston…can’t dance. Really, they proved they don’t have much rhythm at all. I would, however, express to you that these men still could make almost 15,000 chicks swoon, scream, cry, and pass out. Which was pretty damn amazing. And also, because these chicks were so busy swooning, screaming, crying and passing out, they didn’t notice the fact that their beloved New Kids can’t sing or dance. I would also tell you that Donny Wahlberg made a speech that left me thinking. Seriously. In reference to the loss of our music legend, Michael Jackson. (So sad) About how precious and precarious life is and we should always keep the party going. God damn it…he is right. Hang tough. Get the right stuff. I would try to relay to you how much fun it was seeing a band that I never really liked, back in the day. And how great it was to see a concert by geriatrics pull in that many chicks. But how gross it was to watch a overly drunk woman throw up, right in front of me. I would be happy to tell you all of this. If I could. But I can’t.

I would, if I could. Today. Tell you why I am a top rated Power Mommy Blogger. Well…in my own home. In my own mind. And I don’t need Nielsen to put me on some sort of list. If I could. If I wasn’t so blocked up. I would explain to you that I, sometimes…am so powerful. Sometimes. *flexes muscles* Because I am raising 5 kids. His, mine and ours. And I. Am trying to give them the best foundation I can, to go on to become…Power People. Who maybe, one day, will be rated by Nielsen. To the best of my ability. Despite all the drama that goes on in almost every aspect of our lives. And the fact that life tosses my family so many freaking curve balls. I would tell you that in my house, the brats know if they do something that I don’t like (or do like) I’m going to blog about it. Which leads to them begging me not to because I’m going to embarrass them. Which, generally gets them, or some of them, to behave OR misbehave, depending on what type of blogpost I’m looking for. Sometimes. But, I blog about it. To the best of my ability. And that is what makes ME a HUGE Power Mommy Blogger. In my own home. In my own mind. And I don’t need Nielsens ratings to quantify or qualify me. Although, it would be fairly exciting, I guess.

And before I got really frustrated. And before I shut down my computer because no blog post was coming out the way I wanted it to. I would make sure to tell you that I am going to SITScation in October. I got the go ahead from the hubby (well, with promises of “favors”). And I got some sponsorship from a company who has faith in me, that I’ll be a good swag giver outer for them. So I’m all signed up. And I’ve started hunting for airfare. And I’ve started looking for shoes. Because one must always have the perfect shoe for every situation. This SITScation, it’s a smaller, more intimate group than Blogher. Holy CRAP! Am I excited. I would, if I could, go on to explain to you how monumental this is for me. The fact that I’ve NEVER traveled by myself. And in the span of 3 months, I’ll have left Michigan. TWICE. By myself. To meet a bunch of women that I’ve only tweeted with or commented back and forth on blogs. Me. A painfully shy person who used to barely be able to make eye contact and because of this, was sure people thought I was inspecting their boobs…which assuredly, I wasn’t. Unless they were really huge. Or misshapen. And then I probably was staring, out of complete curiosity. I would tell you that. If I could.

Yeah. If I could tell you all of that. And make it into a somewhat decent post. I would. If I could. But, I have major writers block. So, I can’t.

Category: blogging, my life | 8 Comments »
Tags: new kids on the block, power mommy bloggers, sitscation, the power of a blog, writers block

Posted By Melissa on June 25, 2009

Tonight, I’m seeing New Kids On The Block, at DTE Energy. Which, if you ask me, will forever be Pine Knob Music Theater in my heart.

It’s pouring. Rain. And I’m hoping we aren’t supposed to sit on the lawn. Because, I just made my hair so 80’s big. Yeah, I’ve got the right stuff, baby. Big hair. Blue eyeliner with blue mascara. Baby pink Wet and Wild lip gloss. I’m SO there.

I’m not doing a new post today. This…is it. Because I. Along with all my middle aged teeny bopper contemporaries, are primping and preening. Getting ready for tonight’s main event.

I really hope that my boys…Donny, Jordan, Danny…and the other little fellers whose names I can’t remember, aren’t able to see me from the stage. Because my roots are giving away my age. And my eyebrows…are overtaking my face.

From far away, I look really pretty though.

So meet me over on Twitter later. Where I’ll be tweeting away. Because I’m so 2.0 like that. The concert is at 7:30 EST. And as long as I’m…er…they aren’t rained out.

Well, I’m off to go find my original NKOTB cassette tape.
Hmm…I wonder if my car even has a cassette player.

I’ll be back tomorrow.
With a really deep and thought provoking post.
Or not.

Category: my life | 3 Comments »
Tags: dte music, i won tickets, new kids on the block, nkotb, pine knob