Category Archives: Uncategorized

“It snowed last year too: I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea.” ~Dylan Thomas


Do your kids ever fight?  Well, mine give sibling rivalry a whole new meaning.  You haven’t seen fighting until you’ve spent five minutes with Gerald and Ronald.  Seriously.  Five minutes.  That’s all it takes.  So, today I thought we would be golden and fight-free… Ronald had a field trip all day, so he didn’t have to do any work.  When we got back to the school, I signed him out early.  Then I let Gerald walk from school with his two best friends so he didn’t have to ride the bus.  Neither of them had baseball practice today, so they got to play the Xbox all afternoon.  That should be Heaven for an 11- and 13-year-old, right, and guarantee me at least one day of no fighting?  Well, not for MY kids.  Nooooo… that would be asking too much.  That would be like me asking for snow in July.  It can’t happen.  From the second Gerald walked in the door from school, here’s what I’ve heard [verbatim]:

“Mooooom, my brother’s blinking at me.”

“Mooooom, my brother farted next to me.”

“Mooooom, my brother won’t let me have a turn playing the game.”

“Mooooom, my brother ate the last piece of cornbread.”

“Mooooom, my brother pooped right before it was my turn in the shower.” 

“Mooooom, my brother is breathing too hard.”

“Mooooom, my brother called me ugly.”

“Mooooom, my brother’s chewing too loud.”

“Mooooom, my brother just tried to touch my butt.”

“Mooooom, my brother’s pretending to stab my eye out with his knife.”

As usual, when dealing with these two, I learned a few valuable lessons today.

1. Don’t make steak (or anything else that requires a knife) for dinner.

2. Ignoring them does not help.  They only yell louder.

3. I should change my name.  Now.

4. Pretending to be invisible doesn’t work.  They know I’m still here, and they keep finding me.

Please, someone… HELP.  Get me out of here!!!

Advertisements

“The good thing about being old is not being young.” ~Stephen Richards


Okay, so I thought that making the transition from my 20s to my 30s is what would officially mean I was “old.”  I was wrong.  The true sign of my senior status (in my kids’ eyes, at least) happened this morning.  As Gerald and I were sitting in the car together, wasting time before he had to go into school, the following conversation took place.  [Please note that in addition to the actual words that were spoken, I am also going to throw in those thoughts that were never actually spoken out loud…]  Our conversation went as follows:

Gerald:  Hey Mom, who is Robert De Niro?

Me:  [Are you kidding me?]  Robert De Niro?  [Am I that old – geez?]  Only one of the best actors of all time.

Gerald:  Really?  Oh.  Is he black?

Me:  What?!  No!!!  [You’ve got to be kidding me!]

Gerald:  Hmm.  Well, what is he in?

Me:  The Godfather, man!  And Goodfellas!  [Are you freaking kidding me?!]

Gerald:  I’ve never heard of those.  Are you sure he’s really popular, Mom?

Me:  [Omg.  You’re kidding…]  Yep, I’m sure.  He’s one of the best, honey.

Gerald:  Oh.  Well maybe only old people know who he is then.

Me:  [Swinging blindly into the back seat where Gerald’s sitting.  Come here, you little rat..!]  No, I don’t think so.  He was in Meet the Fockers.  That’s not that old. 

Gerald:  Ooohhhh!  Why didn’t you say that one first, Mom?  Now I know who he is!  I love that movie – maybe Ronald and I will watch it again this weekend!

Me:  Oh, good.  [Enjoy it, you little focker.  It may be the last movie you ever watch.]

Lesson I learned this morning:  I’m officially a failure as a parent.  My kids don’t even know who The Godfather is.  Guess what we’re really watching this weekend?


“Dark circles under my eyes sink deeper and deeper into my skull, in contrast to my pale skin there is an undeniable resemblance to a fresh corpse.” ~Dee Remy


The two things I’m sure of in life are as follows:  1. I am EXHAUSTED.  2. My kids are freaking awesome.  Seriously, I have no idea how they do everything that they do.  I understand that kids have more energy than those of us from the “olden days,” as the boys so affectionately call it, but I don’t ever remember having even close to the amount of energy that they have.  We always tell our kids that they have it easy because they’re still kids.  WRONG!   I mean, yes it’s true that they don’t have to have jobs or pay bills, but they still work their little butts off every day!  Think about it… the average adult works an 8-hour day, right?  Well, my kids, like many others, work 7 hours a day at school and then after that, work another 2 to 3 at whatever sport’s practice ’tis the season for.  They wake up at the butt crack of

Photo by Alicia Benton

Photo by Alicia Benton

dawn, and go to school, where they don’t just sit and daydream all day.  (They’re terrified of suffering my wrath if they bring home a bad report card.)  They work hard, listen well, and study hard.  And on top of that, they have to deal with the awful pressures of middle school… the bullying, the labeling, and the constant attempt at fitting in somewhere.  [I HATED middle school and would never ever ever go back.]  Then after being in school all day, they come home, do their homework, and rush off to sport’s practice.  Keep in mind, my kids play a sport every season.  They get about a three-week break in the summer, but the rest of their year is spent playing football, baseball, basketball, or wrestling.  Any of you who’ve played a sport before know that it takes hard-work and dedication to succeed.  And RUNNING!  Tons of RUNNING!!!  They remind me of Forrest Gump they run so much.  By the time practice is over, I’M exhausted.  I know that they must be.  And then, what amazes me, is that the next morning, they wake up and do it all over again (without getting a paycheck every two weeks).  They are ah-maze-ing.  This time change has thoroughly kicked my butt.  And this morning?  Forget it.  It was dark and rainy.  It’s a miracle that I even got myself out of bed, much less the boys too.  I look like death and can’t even function before my first cup of coffee.  And Lord knows, don’t ever try to have a conversation with me before that glorious liquid crack kicks in.  I came to work this morning, complaining incessantly that I was exhausted.  Then I had to stop, shut up, and remind myself that Gerald and Ronald are really the ones who should be complaining of exhaustion.  (Please don’t give them any ideas…)  They work their little butts off constantly and don’t even get to drink coffee!  Next time I feel like whining about how tired I am, all I need to do is look, with pure awe, at my two little men.  They make me so proud, and I’m constantly amazed by them and their resilience and commitment.  I, of all people, have no right to complain about being tired.  My desk job doesn’t look so bad after all…  


“No doubt exists that all women are crazy; it’s only a question of degree.” ~W. C. Fields


THANK GOD FOR BOYS…  I cannot say that enough!  I love how males can hate each other one minute and then be best friends the next.  Gerald and Ronald can be beating the crap out of each other and literally stop in the middle of their World War 3 to go outside and throw the baseball or football back and forth to each other.  We females, on the other hand, looooove drama.  And holding grudges.  It seems like women’s love for drama doesn’t improve with age, either.    61115_4883228877315_138569966_nFor example, I have an acquaintance [I’m using that term very loosely] who is almost as old as I am, and I really believe that she loves conflict.  She’s one of those women who smiles in your face and tells you what a great friend you are and then tells her other “friends” behind your back all of the terrible things about you (that may not even be remotely true).  I’ve racked my brain trying to figure out why the heck women do this, and the only conclusion I can draw is that their self-esteem is so low that the only way they can feel better about themselves is to bring others down.  Why do we, as women, automatically try to make ourselves look better at someone else’s expense?  Why can’t we do like my boys and just talk about how awesome we are?!  Men pride themselves on having a giant penis… Why can’t we be that simplistic and pride ourselves on having big hair or a big mouth or making the world’s best cookies???  Why do women have to make everything a rivalry?  Again, any rivalry between Gerald and Ronald usually consists of one good sucker punch while the other isn’t looking, and then they’re back to being best buds again.  I watch them as they’re getting older, and their rivalries are seeming to get smaller.  That’s freakin’ awesome!  I wish I could say the same for some of the women with whom I’m “friends.”  Why can’t we just BOTH be awesome?!  Okay… rant over.    


“Sometimes I just want to paint the words ‘It’s my fault’ across my forehead to save people the time of being pissed off at me.” ~Christina Westover


Photo by Alicia Benton

So have you ever been blamed by your kids for something being your fault?  Well, I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that everything that Gerald does wrong is somehow MY FAULT… For real.  “I missed that football tackle because you were taking too many pictures from the bleachers a half mile away.”  “I missed that basketball shot because you breathed too loud.”  “I didn’t pin that kid in the wrestling match because you blinked.”  Today at baseball practice was the perfect example of yet another thing I did wrong.  Now keep in mind that I have never played baseball a day in my life.  I mean, sure, I throw the ball with the kids and play a pick-up game with them every now and then, but I throw like a girl, and I hit like a girl, and I would never EVER expect a team to rely on my mad baseball skills.  So anyway, today at practice, he was working with a batting coach who’s played in the Major Leagues.  He was showing him how to step into the pitcher and power up his swing, keep his head down and eye on the ball, and where to connect with the ball on his swing.  Now when it’s Gerald’s turn to step up and hit, he does a good job with all the steps, except keeping his head down and eye on the ball.  So what happens as a result?  He either hits a foul or misses it completely.  This happens about three times before the trainer shows him again how to keep his head down.  As soon as Gerald steps back up to hit, he keeps his head down, and he hits it… Imagine that!  But, by this time he’s already furious because, as he so eloquently puts it, “he sucks at hitting.”  The very SECOND that practice ends, he yells to me from behind the fence, “I suck at hitting because last year YOU told me that I need to open up my swing more!”  Now if you read back up a few lines, you’ll remember that the reason he missed the first few balls pitched to him was because he was picking up his head and not watching the ball all the way to the bat.  Two questions:  1. What the heck does opening up his swing have to do with keeping his head down?  2. How the heck is it MY fault that he’s not watching the ball?  I didn’t hide his eyes when the pitch was thrown.  I didn’t pull a pillowcase over his head.  I didn’t jump up and down screaming his name so he would turn around and look at me.  How in the world can I possibly be to blame for this?  I wasn’t surprised in the least to be the brunt of his wrath because, like I said, I’m ALWAYS the bad guy.  WTH???  So my response… “Gerald, I’d take the blame for this, except I don’t even know what the heck “opening up your swing” means.  If I really said that last year, then I’m completely impressed with myself, and I will probably tell you to do that again all year this season because it sounds completely cool!”  The response I got:  The awesome, infamous, teenage boy GLARE.  But, ultimately, I got the response I wanted… He shut up.


“Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you were born to stand out?” ~Ian Wallace


20121031_172630I don’t understand what all the hype is about fitting in with some overrated clique.  For me personally, I don’t want to be where I don’t feel like I’m not wanted for who I am.  Am I crazy?  When I watch Gerald and Ronald, I’m amazed at the differences between them when it comes to belonging.  Gerald is my child whom I can always count on to come home with a crazy, albeit urgent, request for the latest fad.  You know those necklaces that baseball players wear?  Well he has every team.  Elite socks?  He has every color.  My poor child would have had a Justin Bieber haircut at one point in his life if his quasi-afro would’ve cooperated.  Every time he comes to me with a new request, and I ask him why he has to have this latest “thing,” he tells me (with no shame) that “all of his friends have it.”  Ronald, on the other hand, loves being different.  His full-blown afro is the biggest I’ve ever seen… and he just asked me if I can dye it purple!  No kidding…  He never [ever] matches when he goes to school in the morning, and when Gerald tells him that, his response is always, “I don’t care.”  Now, being my overly controlling self, I used to have a terrible time letting him walk out of the house wearing orange shorts, a green shirt, and sneakers without shoelaces, but I finally came to the conclusion that if that’s what makes him happy, then I’ll learn to pick my battles.  Believe me when I tell you, there are countless more battles waiting for me every day with these two!  They’re pretty much even when it comes to friends and popularity, so what’s the difference with one conforming and the other paving his own way?  They’re both happy children (except when I’m the worst mom ever and they’re not getting their own way), and they’re loved by their family, friends, and teachers.  I have to admit:  They’re teaching me some crazy valuable life lessons.  It’s okay to be different.  And it’s okay to be the same, too.  We should all do what makes us comfortable, regardless of what everyone else thinks about it.  Thanks boys.


“A boy’s story is the best story ever told.” ~Charles Dickens


ImageAnyone who knows Ronald, knows that at any moment, he can drop your jaw with what comes out of his mouth!  Well, true story… His teacher was going on maternity leave after Valentine’s week, so they had a baby shower for her during their class Valentine’s Day party.  When we were in TJ Maxx getting the baby an outfit, Ronald tells me, “I don’t remember exactly what was on the list of things she needs, but I remember that the size was a 1Z.”  I thought, “What in the world kind of size is that?!  I thought they were sized with ‘Ts’, but the baby will be way too young for that.”  After standing in the middle of TJ Maxx staring at the floor racking my brain for five minutes, I finally figured out that he meant ONESIES!!!  Lol!  I love that kid!! 


Tiffany Kleiman ~ Author

“I don’t care if a reader hates one of my stories, just as long as s/he finishes the book.” ~ Roald Dahl, WD

Jeanne Grier

A Modern Day Mom

The Meat & Potatoes of Life

By Lisa Smith Molinari

JAG GYM Blog

We do good things for kids!

RECLAIMING YOUR CASTLE

...LOVING THE PLACE YOU COME HOME TO.

Ooops, I Said Vagina... Again..

Being a mother, wife, and all around good person... MOST of the time.

Writing Between the Lines

Life From a Writer's POV

Life With The Top Down

Enjoy The Ride!

HA's Place

the lived experiences and musings of an organic, home-grown poet

Phoenix Fights

Fighting the FEAR, depression and BDP on a daily basis AND making my own bread. Bring it on 2016....

nobodysreadingme

Writers write. The rest make excuses.

the EXCESSIVE GARDENER

adventures in defensive gardening

Suddenly they all died. The end.

Write or write not - there is no aspiring.

Post it Notes from my Idiot Boss

delivered directly to my computer monitor on an all too regular basis...

Piglove

Adventures of Bacon and Friends

Laura A. Lord

"Of this I am certain: The moment you said, "You are..." I no longer recognized myself. ‪‎I am‬ more than the woman you see. "

Corner of Confessions

Just another WordPress.com weblog

Around the Hill

Photos, and maybe a geeky blog post or two!

%d bloggers like this: