Glory Days

When I was in college, I was part of this organization that sucked up most of my disposable time. Some of my non-disposable time too, judging by my final GPA. Anyway, every year, they put out a yearbook to encapsulate the events of the year and honor the graduating seniors. It was kind of dorky, yeah, but it was always fun to look at the books when we got them.

I pulled them out the other day to try to help D understand some of the stuff I did during my college years. He attended night school while working full-time during his college experience, so when I try to explain certain things, he either gets this glazed over look or his jaw drops in amazement. I thought the pictures might help.

Today, I got an email from a friend asking for a slide that we made during my senior year . . . and here's the embarrassing part. It was a slide of all of the hook-ups within that organization. I know, we're tools, right? But we were bored one night and wanted to see if we could match everyone up with their one-time paramours, so we did. Side note: I was having lunch with an old teacher/current colleague a few months ago and mentioned this, and he just started laughing and asked if I turned that over the the Center for Disease Control; it could pinpoint the proliferation of certain contagions within a small demographic of people. But I digress.

I don't have this chart anymore, as I deleted it when I changed computers a year or so ago, but since I've been PROCRASTINATING ALL DAY (I do NOT want to clean our room), I decided to flip through those old yearbooks and recreate the chart.

Alright, first thing? What the hell was wrong with us?! We were so bored or so limited during our four years in school that we found it necessary to make out or sleep with each other? Luckily, most of it was swapping spit as opposed to other bodily fluids, but dang, we spent ENTIRELY too much time with each other. Looking at this thing, you can isolate little squares of people, because at some point, the guys and the girls switched partners. There could have been a year or so in between them, but still. And I KNOW I'm missing actual people, not just connections. I'm trying to flesh it out a little bit (I sent it to said friend that asked for it in the first place), but seeing as we're looking at a pool of about 280 people, I can't fit everyone onto one page.

Second thing? I miss some of these people SO much! I've kept in touch with quite a few of them, but there are others that I just don't talk to anymore, and even with Facebook, MySpace, and our university's alumni website, I can't find others. I know that this group took up a lot of my time, and I had some pretty trying experiences during the whole time (reference the unwritten story of my bastard roommate senior year . . . um, I'll tell that story tomorrow or later this week), but looking back on all those pictures, it makes me realize how stupid some of our issues were and how much fun we actually had.

I know this is what they mean when they say, "Glory Days." I know in my mind that I never want to repeat that chapter of my life, but it's a little bit harder to convince my heart.

The Hubster is in on the Action

Since we've gotten married, D and I have known that we have pretty different disciplinary tactics . . . mainly, I had them and he didn't. It's true. Ask him. The short version is that he didn't grow up with a lot of discipline in the house, and then, as a single father, he couldn't bear to punish his darling little angel for anything, even when she deserved it. And she did. Ask him.

All of this changed yesterday, for good. Since he's been off the wacky travel-and-night-shift schedule (and, thankfully, it doesn't look like he's going to be on that schedule again until the end of July), he's been slowly getting used to the insane amount of structure that popped up in the house. I'll admit it, it's a little extreme. I recognize this, but I won't tell him or the Munchkin for fear that they'll make me give it up. And while that sounds a little control-freaky of me (it is), the only feasible way we're going to turn our little prima donna of a daughter into a normal, functioning preschooler is to start off harsh and relax as she demonstrates that she can handle the rules and stuff. At least, this is the conclusion that we've pretty much decided upon.

The Munchkin has had these shining moments of adorableness recently, but for the most part, she's been an extreme brat. Not going to bed during her naptime. Hitting or spitting at us. Outright ignoring our instructions. A few weeks ago, it took her FIVE HOURS to clean her room, simply because as soon as we left, she would sit down and start playing. Her excuse? "Cleaning makes me tired." Come naptime though, did she sleep? No.

Yesterday was the last straw for both of us, although I was definitely the one to lose my shit first. It's been building for a while, mainly because D and I have barely had a moment alone without her asking us to play, or get something, or help her with this, or generally just repeating our names over and over and OVER again, typically after we told her that we'll be with her in a minute. Seriously, folks, if you told your child that you'll be with them in five minutes because you're doing something like, hmm, pooping, or maybe trying to have a short, intimate moment, and you had to do it to a chorus of, "Mama, Papa, Mama, Papa, Mama, Papa, Mama, Papa . . ." ad nauseum, you'd be on the brink too. But the last straw was church yesterday.

We go to church as a family every Sunday, and we generally look forward to the time together. And even more so the time apart--the Munchkin goes to the children's liturgy during the liturgical part of the Mass (i.e. the readings and homily, a.k.a. sermon), and then brings in the gifts (bread and wine to be consecrated, the monetary offerings to be blessed) with the other little kids. Then she runs back to us, and sits and sings for the remainder of Mass. We haven't had problems with her since her first Mass experience almost two years ago, until now.

Last week was pretty bad. Chattering, wiggling, squirming in between us when we're trying to pray, the works. This week? Ten times worse. The same stuff, but throwing a bitch fit every time we told her to stop wiggling, or stop talking, or stop fiddling with her hat, etc. And absolute fit. And after her last fit? She started up a series of, "I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm thirsty, I want to go home, I want my hat, I want my cup, I want my paper, I want it, I want it," all at a volume that would have been more suitable for a concert. Not Mass. Or, wait, NOT AT ALL.

I was able to keep it together until we got home and D sent her to her room for a little bit, and then I just let it loose on him. Essentially: "All I want is one freaking hour a week to sit, be quiet, and worship our God. An hour that isn't peppered with whining, demands, or a bratty child that won't sit the FUCK down or be quiet! She is old enough to deal with this now, she's done it before, and I'm sick of it. Since a gag isn't exactly an option, we need to either find a church that has a nursery or do the hand off. Because I am NOT doing this again."

He just looked at me and said, "You're right." Then he called the Munchkin downstairs and asked her, "Do you want to continue going to church with Mama and me?" And she replied, "No, Papa, I just want to go with you." And then he read her the RIOT act. After her lunch, he sent her upstairs for her nap, which she refused to take. Actually, she responded by throwing things at him, to include toys, books, her pillow, her blankets, her sheets, etc., all of which she lost. She literally has nothing in her room now except her bedding (which was returned last night) and some clothes, very few of which are dresses and skirts, because she lost those too. And he did all of this.

After she finally wore herself out and fell asleep (about 2 hours and most of her possessions into her display), D told me, "This is tough, but I finally feel like I'm being a parent. Maybe she'll actually get it this time around." To be honest, I think it's going to take a lot more than one day of D raining down the fury, but hey, it's a good start.

Mother of 1.5 to Mother of . . . A Million. Or Something Like That.

The Munchkin goes to school with her supposed future husband, and as a favor, his mom asked me to watch him today while she ran around and did some things in preparation for their relocation. It's a short day at school for the older kids, and because she was FREAKING OUT over whether or not she could get everything done before then, I offered to watch the older one from after school until whenever she finished. So, today, instead of having one active child, one wombed child, I'm going to have three active kids and one in the oven.

Thank God I didn't offer to watch the twins too.

Anyhoo, it's been an absolute blast having Mr. the Munchkin over. He's not nearly as polite as my little angel (*ahem*), but having him around makes her behave like the world will end if she doesn't. And they've been entertaining themselves ALL DAY. Seriously. I offered to let them watch TV, and they just said they'd rather play upstairs.

Of course, I caught the Munchkin topless on one occasion, but that's a different story.

My favorite part of the day was lunchtime. The two of them sat at the table, giggled over everything, and cheers-ed everything, including their sandwiches, their soup spoons, and their plastic cups of orange juice. Honestly, it's been one of the easiest, most un-patience-trying days since I became a mom, real or otherwise.

Now we're off to throw a pie in the P.E. teacher's face. I may actually post a picture of that!

Well, Maybe I Am Changing My Name (and Other Topics of Note)

I did end up making it to the Social Security office today, so all that's left is sending in my passport and getting everything finalized (also, HUGE thanks to Angela for alleviating my fears of the office taking six months to update my passport). I anticipate I'll try to do that tomorrow, maybe in between spending an hour in the children's section at the library and making a lunch that will probably go uneaten.

In other Munchkin-related news, she doesn't put her hand over her heart for the Pledge of Allegiance! Apparently, her pre-K class is teaching the kids to do this stupid move reminiscent of the dance associated with the Quad City DJ's 1995 hit "C'mon n' Ride It (The Train)" instead of properly reverencing the flag. If you forgot it/never knew it, it pretty much consisted of holding one's left arm at a 90-degree angle with the upper arm parallel to the floor, hand balled, right hand clasped onto the left bicep, and pumping several times (usually twice). Switch arms, with the right arm at the 90-degree angle, pump several more times, and repeat for the entirety of the song. Don't forget to shake, roll, and pop that booty.

Anyway, she showed me today that they take the right hand and make a ring with the thumb and forefinger. The other three fingers are extended, and then the right elbow is placed on top of the left fist. The right forearm is perpendicular to the floor, and the right hand is then cocked to an almost-90-degree angle to the forearm. From there (are you trying this as you're reading? You should be), you wave the three extended fingers. I think it's supposed to mimic the flag waving.

I don't care what it's supposed to mimic. I care that my child is learning AT SCHOOL to do something ridiculous instead of placing her right hand over her heart and pledging allegiance to her country. A country that's lost thousands--nay, millions--of lives in order to keep it free. A country that's currently embroiled in a war. A country that will continue to draw good men and women from it's masses to rise up and defend the freedoms that our ancestors won so long ago. A country that, apparently, also produced teachers that don't give a rat's ass about respecting those battles and those lost lives.

In case you can't tell, I'm a pretty hardcore American. I have my own opinion on our country, its leaders, its politics, its social programs, its economic successes and failures, etc., but that's not something that I care to share today. Today, I'm just a person who loves her country for all its parts, flaws and all, who is seriously disappointed that her child isn't learning to do the same.

Oh, before anyone asks, yes, we did teach her to do it the proper way. No, we're not sending her to that school next year. We're torn on whether or not to bring this up to the teacher, seeing as the year is almost over AND that we're not sending her to school there next year.

I'm Not Changing My Name Today

Technically, my name is already changed. I did it back in January a few weeks after D and I got married, and a few weeks after that, I got my driver's license changed. As far as his workplace, my (occasional) workplace, and the DMV are concerned, we share a name.

However, according to the Social Security office, the U.S. Passport office, and the IRS, I'm still known by my maiden name. Not to mention a few niggling little companies like, oh, Delta. Who is holding all of my SkyMiles hostage until I change my name.

This wouldn't be AS huge of an issue if we weren't planning a European trip for next month. Last July, D promised his extended family--to include his ancient grandparents and his godmother--that we would come visit them the next year and that they would get a chance to meet me. I really should have just gone then, but I couldn't get the time off work to fly to the Motherland for a week. So instead, we're planning for this summer. Of course, we didn't exactly anticipate me being a babymaker, so when we made our original plans, we were going to use the Eurail system and bunk with people.

We're still doing this.

Anyhoo, this is important because I know the passport office is backed up, and is probably going to get busier as we get closer to summer. We're leaving in less than 8 weeks, and I HAVE to have a passport that says my married name on it. I can't travel under my maiden name anymore because I don't have any other form of ID to back up the claim that my name is still the same. And frankly, I have to go to the SS office in order to get the proper identification to get a new passport. So, in short, I'm a little screwed.

I technically have time today, but I've been nonstop since 6:45 this morning, and I really need a nap. My back is killing me, and even though I went for a small adjustment today, there's only so much they can do to me in my fertilized state. So, basically, I'm not changing my name today. Even though I need to.

My First Mother's Day

I was woken up this morning by a bouncing, blond-haired little girl, my lovely husband carrying his guitar and my breakfast, and a Mother's Day song, written especially for me. At 8:30am. And then I was showered with gifts: a flower in a hand-painted flowerpot, the Munchkin's handprints, and a [drumroll, please] . . . BRAND NEW DIGITAL CAMERA! How fun is that? I'll finally get to take and post pictures again!

So far, we've spent our day playing Wii, eating cheese balls and taquitos (we had a small party last night), and generally hanging out. I'm not even out of my pajamas yet, and it's awesome.

Happy Mother's Day to all you mommies, and I hope you're enjoying your day as much as I am!

LK

P.S. Someone ping me by 1:00pm EDT to make sure that I've gone to the Social Security office. I need to change my passport, which requires changing my SS card first, and I have to have it done REALLY soon!

Hi! I'm Back! And It's a New Blog!

Alrighty. For the *two* people who read my blog on a semi-regular basis, hi and welcome back. For the other people who stumble upon this place, hi and welcome.

I took a brief (read: 6-week) hiatus because I had some serious introspection to do that I really didn't want subjected to Internetland's constant criticism. In short, I was at the end of my already-short rope and was spewing some pretty vile things in general, so I decided to take a step back, think about some stuff, and try again when I felt ready.

I'm ready.

After writing, posting, and then removing a particularly scathing entry, I called a family counselor to work out some of the stuff that our blended family was going through. My adjustment to having a preschooler, her adjustment to having two parents (and one that's pretty tough), mine and D's adjustments to being married, our move to a completely new location, buying a home, getting pregnant, etc., etc., etc. This was something that we had actually talked about before we got married, but we were only married for 6 weeks before his work schedule got all screwy, and it stayed that way for two months, leaving me in a single-parent situation and him lacking any involvement with his only child for an extended period of time. To say the least, we had a lot going on. So much so, in fact, that our counselor told me that any other person would have snapped a long time ago and he was impressed that I made it this long without any intervention. To that, I say, "Holler!"

So, we're settling in and making it work. We still have good days and bad days, but the point is that we're figuring it out one day at a time and learning from our mistakes. Yesterday, the Munchkin's teacher even told me that I was being proactive, something that a lot of parents fail to do with their own, biological progeny. Again, holler! Hey, it's called a learning curve and it's not as steep as it once was.

But enough about my blogging vacation. More to the new blog. I decided against changing the URL this time because, hey, I don't want to erase my blogging past and start over. This time, I want to build on it and take my blog in a new direction, hence the new design and new title (for you Google Reader readers, go take a look at the new site design. I kind of like it!). I'm no longer a world traveler (although a summer trip to Germany may negate that statement) and have really, truly embraced and embarked upon this new trip of motherhood. Being a stepmother to a preschooler (soon to be kindergartener, ack!), becoming a mother to a newborn (if I disappear in October, I went into labor), and being a somewhat imperfect wife to my adoring husband.

Keeping with that theme of imperfection, I'm going to warn you now: the language and content is about to get a WHOLE lot rougher here. See, I tried to avoid using swear words and negativity on my blog for a long time because I was trying to present a better, shiny version of myself (so sullied by my getting-frequent outbursts against children). But in my month and a half of introspection, I realized that it's not me. And that I don't have to have squeaky-clean language to have readers. I've been reading The Bloggess recently, and I have to tell you, her candidness? Vag-tastic.

So, if you're a regular reader and are offended by words like, "fuck," "shit," and "vagina," I'm really sorry, but this may not be your kind of reading material anymore. If you're offended by my calling my children The Little Fuckers (or, in their presence, The Little Fricassees), please, stop reading and put DOWN THE PHONE to Child Support Services. If I make mention of wanting to throttle a child, it's not actually happening, it's a feeling. And it's my blog, so I'm going to spew my feelings all over it. Bring on the nasty-grams.

I hope that you do stick with me, because even with the jacked-up language (can you tell I grew up around the military?), it should still be an excellent read. You know, if it was in the first place.

P.S. I have a great in-law story. I forget if D reads this occasionally, so I may avoid it, but I swear it's a good one.