That's Good Corn...Can I Have The Recipe?

I found a recipe years ago, I think in one of those little grocery-store check-out aisle thingies (wish I could be certain where so I could give credit for the basis of it).  It sounded good, but I didn't have everything the recipe called for, so I used what I had and made it my own. 

The first time I made it, I got rave reviews from my family. I now make it for all special occasions and sometimes just because and always hear the same old “OMG, you made the 'Good Corn'?”. 

Everyone that tastes it always says the same thing, “That's Good Corn....Can I have the recipe?”. It is good corn...I wish I had a name for it other than “The Good Corn”, but since that's what my family calls it, so be it, that is the name of this recipe. 

I of course made it for Christmas and there was just a little left so I packed it for my husband's lunch today. He shared some with a co-worker and the first thing the guy said was, “That's good corn....Can I have the recipe?”. So as I was attempting to type it up for him, I figured I'd share it with all of you. It's simple, it's easy, it's cheesy...who could ask for anything more? Enjoy!

What you need:

2-16 oz pkg of frozen corn (I always get the sweet white corn)

1-8 oz pkg cream cheese

1-half stick of butter (we use no salt butter)

3 Tbsp sugar

2 Tbsp milk (we use lactose-free milk because of my baby's allergies)

2 Tbsp water

6 Slices processed cheese (the cheapest kind will do just fine)

Dump the frozen corn into a pot, mix in the sugar. Pour in the water and milk (it will get a bit clumpy now since it is frozen corn but try to mix it up the best you can). Then cut the butter into patties and mix. Cut the cream cheese into chunks and again, mix as best as you can but don't labor over this, it will all melt in as you heat it up. Break up the sliced cheese into little pieces and mix that in. That's it! 

Now cook over a low heat for about an hour or so, make sure you stir regularly though so everything mixes and melts well. When everything melts, you will have a nice creamy, cheesy blend and it will be fabulous! Kind of like creamed corn with whole kernels instead of all of that mushy stuff! I hope you enjoy, like I said, we always do!

Ahhhh To Be Young At Christmas Time!

Bug "SA-WEET".....Bubby "WE-OW" (that would be 2-year-old Southern for WOW)!

To me, there is nothing more precious than seeing the faces of babies on Christmas morning!  No matter how sparse your Christmas might be, they appreciate everything and make it all worthwhile!  Yes, life is good!

Merry Christmas To All!

Merry Christmas to all of you from my house to yours!  I hope you all know how blessed you are this holiday season!  I feel blessed to know all of you!  Hugs & kisses!  MUAH!  Sparkle on!  Enjoy your time with your family!  That is the blessing that is the season! Don't ever forget the meaning!  Our time is limited here, let's enjoy what He has given us!

Ahhh....An Hour Of Alone Time For Mom...Yea, That Ain't Happening

I often sit and wonder what an hour of alone time would feel like. I don't mean the occasional trip to the grocery store by myself alone time, I mean the loony bin, padded-cell, solitary-confinement kind of alone time that I imagine must be out there (without of course having to actually go certifiably insane or committing a hideous crime). I haven't had this kind of time in 21 years, that's right TWENTY-ONE years. I have been the mother to a small child (at least one of them) for that many years, and will be for another 6-7 at this point. Don't get me wrong, I love being a mother, and a wife, but is it too much to ask that I get the desperately needed solitude that I so richly deserve, that time that I should just be vegetating, relaxing, doing nothing at all, nothing for anyone? Is an hour too much to ask? Apparently so!

I put my all into everything I do, always have. When I worked, I gave it 110% as they say, then I came home and gave that same 110% to my family. Now that I stay at home, I give all 220% to my family and home. As you can imagine, this doesn't leave much time for me. There is always laundry to do, a mess to clean up, a meal to make, a boo-boo to heal, hair to brush, poop to change, trash to take out, crayon to clean off the walls, discipline to instill, a husband that needs love after a long day of work, carpet to vacuum, floors to sweep, hearts that need mending, finances that need attention, advice to give, crafts to make, homework to do, of course this list goes on and on and on, but you get the idea. Oh I do get to take a shower daily (generally with one or the other of the little ones either in the shower with me or standing on the toilet singing). I do put my makeup on daily because it makes me feel human, but again, there is always a little one standing right by playing with all of my stuff and asking me questions all the while. I do get to curl my hair daily, but generally have to run around retrieving my brush because again, some little creature has run in and swiped it from me. It's OK because this is my job, this is what I do, this is who I am, but still, an hour, just one, is that too much?

Well, as I sit here at 11:27 pm, attempting to write this and make some sense of my own thoughts, all the while with a two-year-old that refuses to quit singing long enough to go to sleep, a four-year-old that just defies all sense of rules and regulations, and a husband that has a cold for Christmas so he has to sleep in the recliner so he can breathe, I realize that this idea is just a pipe dream. It will never happen. Actually, I'm sure solitude is overrated. I may never know, just like how many licks it would take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, but a girl can dream, can't she? Can't help but wonder every once in a while if certifiable might just be an option....at least for an hour!

Bubby

I mean seriously...have you ever seen a cuter baby?  Partial or not, this little man is adorable!  I love my Bubby!  You know you want to pinch him & kiss those little round cheeks!  How could you resist?  LOVE HIM!

My New Hobby...Hemp Jewelry...I Can Count And Be Creative

This new hemp jewelry thing has been an adventure in FAB-U-LOUS!  Not only am I making Christmas presents that make people smile, I am indulging my OCD counting fetish and it's a beautiful thing! 

When I finally get to mail these off to my girls, they will be thrilled and I will have indulged myself to a point where I will not be able to stop!  I must keep knotting, keep beading, keep on making these fun, beachy items!  Yes, I will continue.  Yes, I will get back to my Island Bug crafting way of life!  

As soon as the new year begins, I am making some changes.  I will no longer be watching the "others".  I will be focusing on my passions...my own children, my husband, my cooking, and finally...back to my crafting...my beloved jewelry making!  Yes, this is the plan!  Stick to it, Christy, stick to it!  It will most certainly be a fabulous year!  I hope that we all make wonderful resolutions and STICK.TO.THEM for a change!  We deserve it!  Indulge yourselves!  I plan on doing just that!  

Enjoy your Christmas and I am hopeful that we will all have a blessed and prosperous New Year!  Sparkle on people...we ALL deserve to SPARKLE!

1, 2, 3...Never Fear...OCD Girl Is Here!

I've always known I was OCD to an extent, I've always joked about it to an extend. Matter of fact, I am the brunt of my own jokes most of the time. But lately, I'm afraid it is getting out of control and I feel the need to look back and reflect on how this all came to be.

When I was young, I used to arrange my stuffed animals on my bed, this one here, one of equal size/color over there, a little one in the middle and so on. My Mom and Dad are both neat-freaks (seriously) and I was the only one that was allowed to dust as you must go with the grain, never against. I understood this concept at a very early age and shuttered to think that others did not get such a simple idea. As a teenager, pink was my favorite color (well it still is) and I wore something pink every day. I mean how else would everyone else know me? I wore pink, that's who I was. These were all subtle foreshadowing of what was to become of me now that I look back on them. There are so many more examples, but this will suffice. It just kept getting more and more apparent and yet I continued to ignore that it might be the real deal.

My first real job in my mid 20's should have really shed some light, but I was deemed “creative” and “organized”. I color-coded everything. Each sales rep, each region, each client...they all had a color. I don't mean they just had a color, I mean I had pens, highlighters, folders, tabs, notebooks all in the color designated for that individual or entity, it kept me organized. I won awards for this peculiar behavior. Yes, I was fabulous, there was no problem here!

My next real job was in inventory control and this is when I realized the OCD thing was probably pretty real. Oh, I still got to color-code so that was awesome, but now I got to count as well. The counting had always been there, but now I got to arrange things, count them, and get paid for this. Yes, I was still fabulous, no problems here. Then I started looking at my life and realized that this counting, organizing, color-coding thing was just not at work, it was my life.

Hell, I even had kids in an organizational fashion. Two from my first marriage, two step-kids from my husband's first marriage, and then two of our own. Ah yes, a nice even six...in pairs. Count them if you like...2 + 2 + 2 = 6....what a beautiful thing!

I organize the kid's books by color, size, number (if we are blessed enough to have the numbered series), by author, by publisher, and this all thrills me! I don't mean, I love to see the neat book shelf, I mean I get an adrenalin rush out of organizing them. Bug's side of the room is pink, Bubby's is blue. The cars go in the car basket, the baby dolls go in the baby doll basket, the diapers are stacked in the diaper stacker and counted daily. As a matter of fact, everything is counted daily.

I smoke, it's a bad habit I know (don't chastise me), but I feel the need to bring it up to explain how bad this counting has gotten. Every morning when I get up, I count my cigarettes. I take out the first one and say OK, it's 7:00 am and I'm smoking my first, then I proceed to count them in the following fashion....8:00 am, 9:00 am, 10:00 am, 11:00 am, 12:00 pm....and so on until I am through counting them. And I do this at every hourly increment that I take out a new cigarette. I try to break this crazy mold, and yet I keep counting.

Let's don't forget the minor details in my life like I wake up, make my coffee, of course count the cigarettes, make Bubby a bottle, fix Bug some juice, go outside and smoke and water the plants, come back in, get the kids up, fix them breakfast, turn on the TV, pour my coffee, check the bank account, then go take a shower. The shower in itself is an oddity. I wash my body, then my face, then shampoo, then condition, then shave my legs (yes every day without fail, the left one, then the right), then rinse out the conditioner and get out. I remove the remnants of my makeup, I put on my daily facial moisturizer, I put on my body lotion (6 squirts....no more, no less...and yes I count them), brush my hair, brush my teeth, check on the kids periodically (although they usually check on me so there is no need in that), put on my makeup, fix my hair, then back out to the living room to face my day with my own little cherubs and the others. Not overly absurd at this point, many of us have these habits, but I'm trying to paint the whole picture.

I make jewelry. I enjoy it. It's a fabulous counting game. You see, you thread 3 pink beads, 2 green beads, 1 white bead, 2 green beads, 3 pink beads, lather, rinse repeat. And I count each and every one. Now I am attempting hemp jewelry which adds a new phenomenal element...knotting. You can make 10 square knots, counting them as you go along, and then you go back to count them once again before adding that first bead (just in case you missed count the first time). It is all so exhilarating! Yes, I'm beginning to sense a problem here, the family has noticed, and even Bubby walks around the house saying 1...doo...bree....9....10 for no apparent reason (oh we are going to have to work on his counting skills but at least he is getting the hang of it).

But Saturday, as I was cleaning (yes, I was cleaning on Saturday of course because Saturday is cleaning day), I decided that maybe I needed an intervention. I cleaned the kitchen as you should always clean the kitchen first, and then moved on to the kids' bathroom. Toilet first, floor, bathtub, then the sink, then mirror. I sprayed the Windex on the mirror, 8 squirts, then wiped 15 times. It sparkled and I was pleased so it was time to move on to my bathroom. Same routine (as if you doubted that), but when I got to the mirror, I did the usual 8 squirts of Windex and then wiped 16 times. What? 16? This can't be, surely their mirror was dirtier than mine, it always was. So I broke the mold...I actually went back to their bathroom, re-squirted 8 times and did the full 16 wipes and you know what, then it was actually clean. OK, so now I finally had to admit, this has all gone too far! I finished cleaning the rest of the apartment in my regular orderly fashion which I will not bore you with further and reflected as I took my 2^nd shower. Had my OCD really become a lifestyle rather than a tendency? I was thinking yes.

I went through the rest of my day (in an orderly fashion) and after cleaning up the dinner dishes, I decided it was time for a 2^nd opinion. I affectionately hugged and kissed my husband and explained some of my concerns. And then I said, “Baby, tell me it's OK, that I'm OK, and this is all pretty normal”. He lovingly looked at me and said, “Baby, I've watched you, I always watch you and it's freaking weird, it's just freaking weird!”. Then he smiled, kissed me, and walked away.

WOW! That was just the reassurance that I needed, I am not insane, not certifiable at all. This man I love just said it was only “weird....freaking weird”. It's official now and everything's fine. I don't need psychological help. I'm OK with weird, I'm actually good with weird. And here I thought I was losing it. Thank God for my husband's infinite wisdom....without this insight, I might have committed myself. I love him! I'm so relieved now that I know that I don't have a real problem!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go. There are 4 bottles in the sink that need to be washed, 2 sandwiches to make, 1 dishwasher to run, diapers to count, 3 more jewelry sets to start (with countless knots and beads), and when I'm through with all that, I need to count some sheep! I do love sheep, but goats are better...the one in my head reminds me of that daily!

Kids Say The Darnedest (and Truest) Things

So let me set the stage here, in walks Mom of Resident Evil for the start of my hectic day. Only today is different because Lucifer is with his “real” dad for the next month or so (insert angels singing here). Oh and for the record, I am not a fan of the word “real” when referring to parents that abandon their children while the step parent gets all the flack and is not accepted as the “real” parent (yes, I do have bitter tales to tell of my own), but that is the word they use so that is what we will use here as well. Anyway, she walks in with Mischief only and we have a little idle chit-chat about the exchange with the “real” dad.

In walks Bug with a very serious look on her beautiful little face. She approaches Mom of Resident Evil and in a very mature tone (she had managed to lower her voice an octave or so, and although still squeaky, it was much more convincing), she says, “I'm concerned that Mischief is NOT learning boundaries. She's old enough but she's not learning. It's all getting to be too much for ME. I really don't think this is working out. With all the extra work MY mom does to train YOUR kid, she gets very 'aggertated' and me and Bubby don't like this. And for peanuts....errrrgggg! Boundaries....boundaries....boundaries...it's not that hard!”. Then she smiled and walked away.

Breath held, I watched Bug walk away, and looked over at Mom of Resident Evil to see what her reaction to this revelation might be. She simply looked at me, giggled, and said “kids...”. She handed me Mischief and said, “OK, I'll see you after work, have a good day!”. WOW! I mean seriously, WOW!

I came away from this little episode with two valuable lessons. Number One: Watch what I talk about in front of Bug, she does listen, she may not do as I say, but she sure does listen and absorb like a sponge. And Number Two: Some people were not meant to parent and all the coaching in the world (even from a 4-year-old) will not change this fact.

Now every time I look at these two ill-mannered, not quite as beautiful as the rest children, all I can think is “Bless their little hearts!”. Well, at least I got a giggle out of Bug's monologue, that has to be worth something!

It's In The Genes!

Four kids-check! Drive me crazy-check! 

Absolutely gorgeous-check, check, check & check!

Ms. Manners or Christmas Motivation? Hmmmm......

Me:     “Bubby, please get your bottle off of the chair and bring 

           it to me.”

Bubby: “Dere, it's dere....” (frantically pointing)

Me:      “Yes, Bubby, I know it's there, now please go get it for 

            Mommy.”

Bug:    “I'll get it for you Mommy.” (promptly brings it to me in 

           the kitchen with that angelic smile).

Me:     (Surprised) “Thank you Bug, that was sweet.”

Bug:    “Don't thank ME Mom, it was MY pleasure!”

Although I was hoping that she was finally grasping those manners and attitude that I have been trying to instill in her since birth, I'm pretty sure my little princess has just figured out Christmas is right around the corner and she's starting to believe in that naughty and nice list thing I keep talking about! Ahhh....warms a mother's heart and makes her so proud!

My First Blog Award....YAY ME!

 

I'd like to send out a big, fat, sparkly thanks to http://muddy-feet.blogspot.com for honoring me with the “Stylish Blog Award”. I can't take the credit for the design of my blog but the content is all mine and I'm really enjoying myself, so I feel all warm and fuzzy to have been recognized in any way!

Rules for accepting this award are:

1. Thank and link back to the person who awarded you this.
2. Share 7 things about yourself.
3. Pay it forward to 15 recently discovered great bloggers.
4. Contact those bloggers and tell them about their reward.

7 Things About Me:

1. I have 6 kids (4 by marriage who are 21, 16, 4 & 2, and 2 by marriage 13 & 10).
2. I am married (3^rd time's the charm so they say).
3. I live on an island and the beach is my favorite place in the whole wide world.
4. I'm OCD to the millionth degree.
5. I have the best kick-ass friends in the whole wide world.
6. Pink has been my favorite color since I was 2 years old (and that's a long time).
7. I was a working mom for many years, in management making pretty decent money, and gave it all up for this charmed life!

Here are my 15 new favorite sites:

http://www.alittlebiteoflife.net/

http://lightenupweber.blogspot.com/

http://luluanddaisy.blogspot.com/

http://attitudeivlife.blogspot.com/

http://lewiscrazyhouse.blogspot.com/

http://downsyndromedreams.blogspot.com/

http://www.theredneckmommy.com/

http://www.reallifemoms.net/

http://www.thechubbycook.com/

http://babblingsofamommy.blogspot.com/

http://www.wonderfullychaotic.com/

http://www.theboxgirls.com/

http://www.muffintopmommy.wordpress.com/

http://story-seeker.blogspot.com/

http://www.adayinthewife.com/

Top 10 Most Annoying Things About Holiday Shopping

Number 10: The overweight family in front of you at Wal-Mart that buys $300 worth of top-shelf, name-brand groceries with food stamps, then pays for their second buggy full of toys (that your kids can't have), brand new bicycles, their beer and cigarettes with cash.

Number 9: The rude cashier (no not all of the cashiers, just the rude ones, and you know who you are) that doesn't even bother to greet you and acts like you are a waste of his/her time. Seriously, you should be glad you have a job, a lot of people don't, and I heard you speak, your really not even intelligent enough to have this one. Be thankful and smile.

Number 8: The lazy mailman that doesn't bother to deliver your package to your house/apartment, but rather puts that dreaded pink slip in your mailbox instead forcing you to drive to the post office to pick it up. If I wanted to drive to the store to pick something up, I sure as hell wouldn't have purchased it online and paid shipping.

Number 7: The dumb kid in the electronics department that can't show you where anything is other than the video games. Hmmm....think maybe he spends too much time there?

Number 6: The other last-minute shoppers. Look, it's not my fault you waited until the last minute any more than it's your fault that I waited. There's no need to be an ass to me (or anyone else for that matter). Next year, start in July, then you won't have to deal with the crowds!

Number 5: The shovers. Come on people, there are 100 babies on that shelf, did you really have to shove me and my buggy aside just to get that one? You (and your mom) should be ashamed!

Number 4: The over-the-top sales signs. Give us a little credit. We do shop the rest of the year as well. We are completely aware that you raised the prices just before the holidays so that you could so dramatically slash them for us. We might have to purchase the items at these inflated prices, but we're not buying your bullshit too!

Number 3: All of the buggies all over the parking lot (some taking up the only available parking spot) and the lack of same in the store. Again, someone's not doing their job!

Number 2: The germs. There are so many germs running around in the stores and malls, and people just let their snot-nosed kids touch everything. Gross, y'all know I'm a germophobe. If you or your kids are sick, stay home! Don't ruin our holidays too!

Number 1: The inquisitor. This person will ask just any old body about an item on a store shelf. It's rating, the warranty, battery life, likeability, you name it, they ask it. And they always seem to ask ME. Do I really look like I work at every store I enter? Am I wearing a vest? Do I have on a name tag? If these answer to any of these last questions is NO, look for someone else. I'm sure I can't help you, but I could lie if you'd like!

Happy shopping everyone, enjoy!

Realization: I AM My Mother

At the ripe old age of 43, I have finally realized that I am my mother. I look just like her minus a few years, although lately as I walk by the mirror, I do get the urge to say “Hey Mom, when did you get here?”. I work hard, I am a devoted wife (that didn't work out too great for her but I'm hoping for a better outcome) and mother, and although I used to think I was a little more laid back than she ever was, as I was cleaning today and planning out the rest of my week, I realized that I have taken on all of her traits and habits.

It's always the same: Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday...I watch the others. Wednesday is outside the house chore day. Saturday, I clean. Sunday is grocery shopping (if I didn't get that done Wednesday) and spending time with the whole family. No deviation....ever! I make the beds every morning, I cook every night, I never go to bed with dishes in the sink, I make my husband's lunch, I do laundry twice a week, I vacuum every day, I pick up toys all day every day, rearrange book shelves, and everything in my apartment is decorated just so and is not to be moved by anyone other than me. I am not as affectionate as my husband would like for me to be because I'm just not a hugger, but he knows that I love him and continues to wait for the affection that he so richly deserves. I love my children, I am proud of all of their accomplishments, and I feel all of their pain. I am a yeller, not a spanker. I do not follow through on all of the many rules that I set. But I love them, and they know that, and in return, they love me too!

I used to watch my mother as I grew up and thought “I will never be like her”. She was always way too busy, too stressed out, too worried about pleasing everyone else, all of the time. She just never seemed to have any time for herself and I was convinced it was because she had such a rigid schedule and she had inflicted this upon herself, so no, this would not be me. But looking at it now, I was wrong, about a lot of things. And you know what? It's all good! I love my mom and there are a lot of things worse than growing up to be just like her. She is a beautiful, caring, loving woman, a hard worker, and an all-around awesome human being.

So this morning as I was working around here and planning out the rest of my week, walking by the mirror here and there with that familiar “Hi Mom” face staring back at me, I realized I am my mother! And then, after the shock wore off, I realized one more thing....since my mom rocks, that means I rock! Yes, there are far worse things than being my mom, and from now on, when I walk by the mirror, I'm just going to look at that reflection and say “Hey Mom, we rock! Thanks for giving me all of your best! I'm proud and honored to have turned out just like you!”.

Under construction

Excuse the dust as we upgrade our blog design.  You will still be able to move around here, but may notice the background change from time to time.  Everything should be back to normal, and better than ever by tomorrow!

COINIE

Bug is a very sweet, caring, loving little girl. I often forget to point that out since I am constantly ranting about her eccentric behavior and oddities. The sweet moments are not nearly as funny, but are just as important to share so that you can totally get a grasp of this amazing little creature I call Bug.

Bug loves coins (or coinies as she calls them) as do most small children, but she seems to love them just a little more than most. Not for the monetary value but because they are shiny, fun to hold, fun to stash and find again at a later date, fun to show off, fun to count, just fun! So I often give her quarters that are left over after I do laundry, or other various coins if I happen to have them. The other day, I found a quarter in the parking lot. I walked in and immediately gave it to Bug, and with that fabulous little smile, she said “Thank you Mommy” and went to her room to stash it. I didn't know how much these little gestures had meant to her over the past few years.

Then yesterday, she was outside playing, and she came in with the biggest smile on her face, her sparkling blue eyes all aglow. She ran straight to me, put out her hand, and said “Here this is for you, I found it outside”. In that hand was a not-so-shiny penny, and she placed it in my hand. She was so proud and simply said “You need a coinie too, I love you so much, you are my favorite”. She smiled, turned, and walked back outside beaming with pride!

Yes, I teared up. She had apparently overheard the talk of bills and Christmas and not having any money. She's a smart little girl and she didn't like to see Mommy sad. And it worked, I found myself smiling and happy! I love her very much and I do believe I will be keeping my coinie for a very long time, stashed away just like she does, to pull out every once in a while, just to make me smile!

My Run In With Barbie

We all knew this day would come, the question was when and how long I could hold off before I let Barbie have it. Well, today was the day! After all of the crap we've been dealing with since this foreclosure of the apartment complex and subsequent buy out, and of course the eloquent notes posted all over the complex and left in our door, some of which I have shared, some I have not, I'm truly surprised I've kept my mouth shut this long. But this week brought it all to a head and it was not pretty, funny, but not pretty! I feel inclined to share this with you, my friends, as I'm sure you will get a little chuckle out of it.

You see, my rent was late, 5 days to be exact. As I've stated, times are tough and with the holidays, B's checks have been slight. The others parents pay me sporadically so I can't count on that money for anything. Realizing we would be late, I called the leasing office well in advance to let them know the circumstances and since we had never been late before, figured they would just understand. I got the machine and left a message. I heard nothing from them until two days ago when a notice was posted on my door stating that we would be evicted today (the actual day I had told them I would have the rent to them) if we did not pay in full. Seriously? Evicted for being 5 days late? This had to be a joke. But I called the office for clarification and got Barbie. She was none-too-polite and we had a little bit of a falling out. I of course pointed out that this was not in compliance with my lease and that I had called to inform them of my late payment and that I had never been late in the past. She offered to read my lease to me, as if I was the illiterate. As I was laughing at this concept and told her this was not necessary, she actually put me on hold to go get my lease. I was looking at my lease at the time. So I held, and I held, and I stewed, and I stewed. Finally she came back to the line and told me that she couldn't find the exact clause in the lease but if I continued to hold, she would find it and read it to me. Since I've read her illustrious writing, I knew I didn't have time for her to read this whole thing. I explained that it was just fine and that while on hold I had already read my entire lease again, and pointed out all of the issues in the lease that they were breaking. She didn't understand, and I was not surprised. She got a little snippy with me, so I started speaking a little more slowly to help her out. And before hanging up, I once again explained spellcheck and told her I would see her on Thursday (today) with the rent. She reminded me I could just drop it in the box, I was sensing she didn't want to meet me after all.

This morning, B's check went into our account, I sat and figured all of our bills as always, the others came, and the day went as usual...hectic! The minute B got home from work (well actually 10 minutes later since I had to change Mischief's blow out), I raced to Walmart to get my money order. I raced back to the leasing office, yes...I was going to make it back before 5:30 (although my notice said they were open from 5:60 to 5:30) because I wanted to hand-deliver this. Throughout the day, I had convinced myself that I was going to do this amicably, I do have to live here after all for the next 6 months so I decided I would just drop the rent off, get my receipt, smile, and go. That was my intention, but Barbie just isn't that smart!

Remember again that I am 5'2”, 98 pounds soaking wet, and I've never met Barbie (by the way, that is her real name so she says). I walk in, money order in hand, and am approached by a slender woman who I'm guessing to be about 6'3” or so, wow...she was tall! She could step on me, I was glad I had decided to play nice. She introduced herself and asked if she could help me. I introduced myself (what? She didn't seem to know who I was? OK, this was good). I told her I had my rent but would like a receipt before I go (you see, they were charging me well above the allowed late fee so I wanted documentation that this was paid in full). There were people chatting in the main lobby so as she walked into the smaller office, I followed. She opened her mouth, and the trouble started. Our conversation/confrontation went something like the following.

She looked at me and said “Would you like to stay for our book club meeting?”. NO SHE DID NOT! Me: “No thank you”. Barbie “Are you sure? We were thinking of reading A Christmas Carol”. Me: (oh God no, please stop) “No thank you, I would not care to stay and socialize with you”. Barbie: “Did you get the notice?”. HOLY CRAP LADY, OK here we go! Me: “Yes I did get the notice and I would not care to socialize with people that are not even intelligent enough to use spellcheck before posting throughout an apartment complex and furthermore I would not care to stay and read a children's book with people who apparently can not read or write themselves”. That light of recognition went on behind her otherwise blank eyes, she knew who I was now, there was no hiding. She snapped “That will be enough of that”. Me: “Enough of what? The truth?”. Barbie (shaking out of obvious frustration and anger at this point as she attempted to use the copy machine): “No, I do use spellcheck and I will not have you belittle me (said like bee little) and shhhh there are people in here for our book club meeting”. Me: “Oh you have this all wrong, I am not attempting to belittle you, I am successfully berating you, there is a difference. And since you look so obviously bothered by this altercation, as information, belittle is one word not two in case you feel the need to document our conversation. Now, I'm sorry for the IN CONVINCE I caused you by paying my rent late and interrupting this meeting of the minds, so if you'll just give me my receipt, I will leave peacefully”. She was silent as she handed me a signed copy of my money order, I assume this was my receipt. I smiled and walked out of the office, all eyes on me of course.

Sometimes I wonder why people can't just keep their stupid little mouths shut around me! I try to be nice, I really do but some people make it incredibly hard! Now the game is on, I think I might just show up at the next book club meeting. This could be fun...FOR ME!

More Bugisms

Today, Bug was on a roll, and although days like these are my most trying, they are also the ones that make me laugh the hardest (in between the sobbing of course). Today's top 3 Bugisms:

Number 3: Bug “Mom, how many days am I gonna be 4?”. Me “365”. Bug “Dang...I hate that number, I was sooooo looking forward to being 5!”. I do believe that she is plotting world domination by the age of 5, so let's all relish this time we have before we are under “The Rule of the Bug”.

Number 2: In the shower today, Bug was singing her rather loud rendition of Old McDonald and I hear “Old McDonald had a farm, E.I.E.I.O. And on his car he had a pig, E.I.E.I.O. With a quack quack here, and a moo moo there, here a nay there a nay, everywhere a beep beep....E.I.E.I.OOOO”. Wow, seriously, is she confused or just strange? I really don't think she is confused at all so I'd have to opt for the latter!

And my favorite of the day (and one of my top 10 of all time I do believe);

Number 1: As I stated, she has been trying me all day. We were finishing up the Christmas decorating, and I guess she sensed my frustration and obviously overdue boiling point so she sweetly looked at me and said “Mom...I'm sorry for the heart attack and headache today...I really am !”.

You just have to love the giggles between the challenges! These are the things that get us through the day. I hope you all had a day filled with your own little Bugisms! Sparkle on!

The Nearest Thing to Heaven Is A Child

If You're Going To Exert Authority, At Least Use Spellcheck

Yesterday after yet another lengthy, heated argument with my apartment leasing office (Barbie to be exact) over a totally absurd notice I had received, I was feeling like maybe I'd been a bit harsh. You see, I do tend to be a little brutal (although more overly honest to a fault) at times. In the midst of my tirade, I pointed out that this notice was filled with so many typos that I could barely understand the gist and explained that although I knew they were only trying to exert their authority, it might be more effective if they used a simple tool called “spellcheck” which was free with all computer software. I used little words while I explained this concept and proceeded to explain that every notice they had posted since taking over this complex had been illiterate at best. She was offended, I could tell, my work here was done, quid pro quo, tit for tat, eye for an eye! So today, I realized that I had made an impact as I went to check my mail. Posted all over the mailboxes was the notice I have pictured here. So let's say I play nice and overlook the obvious lack/misuse of punctuation and capitalization, and just focus on the blatantly obvious. At first glance, one might think they were just illiterate idiots, but no, look again. They did use spellcheck as I had suggested. But apparently they had butchered the word “inconvenience” so badly that even the illustrious spellcheck could not recognize it and instead made one of its horrible suggestions....and they bought it! So, although they do have the authority here and can make my life miserable if they so chose, somehow I think I've won the battle. I mean, look who's getting the last laugh! Sure as hell isn't Barbie!

Coping With The Holidays

This is not a humorous post, I'm sorry, but the holidays often bring out the doom and gloom in a lot of us. This time of year makes us question our relationships, our status and direction in life, makes us feel the burdens of our finances, makes us feel the distance we have (literally and figuratively) with family and friends....let's face it, this can be a stressful and depressing time of year! Some take these feelings of anguish to the extreme, I just tend to mope. You try to stay positive, happy, and dare you try jolly, but sometimes it's rougher than others. I'm having a hard time this year.

Don't get me wrong, for the most part I love my life. I love my family and I love that I get to stay home with my babies, but I'm feeling especially non-festive this year and by sharing I feel I might be able to cope a little better and I'm hoping that if anyone else can relate, maybe they won't feel as alone.

I miss my girls, this might be the hardest part of all. Yes, they are 21 and 16 and I know they are OK, but I'm not with them, I've always been with them. There were many Christmases when it was just “the girls and I” and now I spend Christmases without them. I am not alone by any means, but this in fact makes me feel lonely so I mope!.

We are a recession family, we're broke! Normally, I'm OK with that...we pay the bills, we eat, we have a roof over our heads, but I want to buy my kids things for Christmas that I know I can't afford. They will all be fine and none of them (but 2) will complain, but it saddens my heart. I want them to have things, I want to see them smile, I want to be the one to give them these things and make those smiles happen. But unfortunately, that is not in the cards, so again I mope!

My husband gets frustrated because he “can't give us the things that we need”, but he's wrong. He gives us all of the necessities in life and I'm frustrated that I am not able to contribute more financially, this measly babysitting money is not helping much at all! I'm sad that he feels that he is not a good provider, he is, I tell him often but I don't think he really hears me! Again I mope!

Well, we've decorated our apartment, we put up our little tree, we're counting down the days until Christmas on our little count-down board, but I just can't shake this funk no matter how hard I try. I know there are many of you out there facing similar feelings, especially this year, and I want you to know you are not alone. This time of year is rough, it is OK to mope, but it is NOT OK to take it to the extreme. I say, let's all “man up” and try to make jolly and enjoy the holidays! From this day forward until Christmas (and hopefully every day thereafter), I am going to remind myself that I am healthy, I have 6 healthy children, I do have a roof over my head, food to eat, and a husband that I love truly, madly, deeply! So to all of you fellow mopers, happy holidays...let's just try to enjoy our blessings rather than dwell on the stuff we can't change! Peace, Love, and Hope to all of you!

Low Sodium, Low Carbs, A New Diet...Oh My!

Before I begin, let me remind you that I am 98 pounds soaking wet. I have had 4 children by c-section and 2 tubaligations and still I am 98 pounds. I am a vegetarian and I do not eat much at all. I say this because I would like to let you know that we are on yet another diet in my house. Why oh why do I have to subject myself to these diets? I could use a little more exercise, but diet? This is a lot of work for a skinny girl!

We are already low sodium because of B's medical issues. I have this under control and this is a good thing, I hate salt anyway but the label reading at the beginning of this life change was a bitch to say the least. I've never had to watch labels. But now it is old hat so it's all good. Then, about a week ago my husband tells me that his ever-increasing waistline is not acceptable to him at the ripe old age of 32 and he wants to do something about it. So being the expert that I am, I Googled it. Cut carbs, hands down! I explain my “professional” findings to him, and he's in, even started an exercise program that evening. He is a gung-ho kind of guy! All or nothing! No bread, no sugar, no fried foods, no fast food...this was going to be hard, but the overly-salt-everything-king had made it through the sodium switch, so we got this!

Day one did not go so well. Texts started coming through at about 1:00 pm. “I'm starving”, “I'm not going to make it through the day”, “I feel sick”, “I'm so hungry I could die”, and “Let's hope I can stay awake on the drive home and not wreck and die”. Yes, this was a little dramatic I thought, and I know he was kidding at some level, but this all or nothing thing was not working for sure! So, of course, as any professional would do, I went back to Google. Apparently, brown is better than white. No white bread, no white rice, no white flour so I decided to head to the grocery store! My usual one-hour shopping excursion turned into a two-hour ordeal. Apparently, low sodium conflicts heavily with low carb. You can buy baked crackers with 0 carbs but they are loaded with sodium, you can buy no salt added beans but they are loaded with carbs. Look at the labels yourself, it was rough, but the babies and I got through our shopping ordeal and came home with $80 worth of groceries that would accommodate all of these new dietary needs. So we are day 3 on this diet and he doesn't come home pale, he is still exercising, I'm working my ass off, but he's happy. The things we do for love!

Tonight, after cleaning all morning, showering, getting ready (damn my hair looked good today), going to the dollar store (I loves me some dollar store), then going grocery shopping, I got home late so I whipped up some tilapia, brown rice, and green beans. I fixed their ever so bland looking plates and set them all up at the table where they feasted like kings (and a little bug princess). Then I heated a four-cheese hot pocket in the microwave for myself! I was very sensitive not to sit at the table with them though, that would just be rude, so I ate by myself in front of the TV! So I'm really hoping this diet works quickly, he drops these few extra pounds, and the exercise regime sticks. I don't know how much longer I can handle this diet! I've decided a low-carb diet is not for sissies and I've decided that I am, in fact, a sissy! Wish me luck!

Problems With The Others

I know I've mentioned the others in the past, the two little ones I watch for peanuts during the week. Well Lucifer we'll call him is 2.5 and his sister Mischief is 8 months old. From the moment I met these kids, I pegged Lucifer for a trouble-maker. He hits, pitches fits, breaks things (oh does he break things), he screams for no reason, looks at me like I'm speaking in a foreign language when I get on to him, refuses to clean up, eats like a slob, spills drink all over the floor, and his favorite words are “MINE” and “NO”. Oh, and he's a snatcher, I hate snatchers! His sister was good to start with but then again, she was only 5 months old at the time. I truly felt sorry for their mother as she is very young and I had hoped that I could help her out in some way. I mean some kids are just bad right and with my experience with my old children, certainly I could help (so I thought).

As the days, weeks, months have unfolded, Lucifer has broken 4 drawers, countless toys, bruised my son's face on many occasions, and even broke a window. Yup, this kid is just bad. His sister has now begun showing the same signs that lead to the path of destruction. She is 8 months old and is stubborn as the day is long. If you tell her no, she just continues to get into whatever you are trying to reprimand her for and she continuously has a bruised forehead (mostly from home) for doing it. She cries A LOT, especially when the simple word “no” is used or if you don't hold her constantly. Truly, I was feeling sorry for their mother, her life was chaotic and full of broken and bruised things. It was sad and it's not her fault her kids are just bad!

Well, the pity-party is over, it is her fault! I believe in discipline and rules. This is not to say that I am the best at adhering to my own rules with my children, or that my children are fantastically mannered (they are not as I'm sure I've already pointed out). They do however know the rules (all 6 of them) and although on occasion they break these rules, they know they've done wrong. They are reprimanded and the behavior tends to subside. For the most part, my children do not chew with their mouths open, they do not make a major mess at the table (or on the floor), they flush the toilet, they pick up their toys, they say please and thank you, yes sir and yes ma'am, and they do NOT talk back. They have been conditioned to know that these things are bad and if they partake in any of these behaviors, there will be consequences. So as I stated, I was trying to help out so as Lucifer and Mischief cause trouble or break the rules, they receive age-appropriate discipline, but it's really not working. I mean, it works for a little while but then they go right back to the original bad behavior (especially on Mondays....Mondays are really bad). I kept wondering what I was doing wrong and why they weren't learning like my own children, then I started paying attention to their mom and I figured it all out and now I'm just mad and feel sorry for these children and am certain that I will see them on a wanted posted one day. Harsh I know, but I call them like I see them!

You see, every day their mom would come to pick them up (usually late since she had to get gas or go grocery shopping or run an errand, and by the way, these are all things I do with my children so this bothers me in itself). Anyway, she would ask how the day went, so of course I would tell her. She seemed unphased initially and said nothing about all of the broken drawers (all 4 had been broken in a 2-week period) but I just figured she didn't know what to say and probably handled it when she got home. When Lucifer blackened Bubby's eye with a toy, I showed her the damage and expected her to do something, anything. She literally said, “Lucifer, that's not nice, now tell Bubby you're sorry”. Again, I just figured she was embarrassed so she would handle it at home. When he pushed Mischief down and bruised her forehead, I told her and she pulled him aside and said “Now Lucifer, that's not nice, tell Mischief you're sorry”. Surely she was doing something else at home. When he broke my dining room window, I called her at work. This one was pretty serious, he pitched a fit and threw the chair back with himself in it and it went through the window. Had I not been standing close and run over to catch him, he could have seriously been hurt. It was an hour and a half before she got off work but had that been me, I would have immediately left work and handled the situation, but I wasn't surprised that she just apologized and said she would talk to him when she got here. She of course was over a half hour late and when she did get here, she handed me $40 and pulled him over to the window and said “Lucifer do you see that? That's bad, now tell Christy you're sorry”. WOW...this was getting to be too much. Just unbelievable! I have a strong no-kitchen rule (always have) for the children's safety. There are chemicals, sharp objects, and stove tops in there, no place for children. So when she was here the other night (my husband was actually here this time), Lucifer was in the kitchen. I sternly told him to get out, he knew the rule! She looked at ME like I was in the wrong and got down on one knee to talk to her son and said “Lucifer, are you being silly? You aren't supposed to be in there”. Silly? Did she just say silly? I saw my husband cringe. This wasn't silly at all, this was a broken rule, one of many rules broken on that particular day I might add. All she had to say was silly! Yes, this was her fault that her children were on this path to a life of doom and gloom and I stopped feeling sorry for her the moment she said “silly”. That was my breaking point. Some people were just not meant to be parents at all, let alone at such a young age!

I am still watching her children for her but have been contemplating seriously terminating this arrangement. The money is not worth it and the bad habits my own children are picking up are bothersome at best (they are both hitting now). I have spoken with her about all of the problems and have been very clear about my concerns, but as you can see, it just keeps getting worse. But now I am actually worried about the kids (even though their mere presence stresses me out) so I've been hesitant to let them loose. Tell me, what would you do? I would welcome some feedback on this one!

And You Think You Had A Bad Day!

It all started out innocently enough, I have one day off a week, Wednesday, so that is the day I schedule appointments. And by “off” I mean, I don't have the others, I still have my two little ones so “off” might not be the right word, but that's what we will use here. I had scheduled my “second opinion” dental appointment for today since the first appointment did not go so well. Basically, the first dentist was the devil incarnate. She put down my kids, she wouldn't listen to me, she basically just didn't care much about anything other than herself and her makeup (which I might add was caked on way too thick and it did not make her look young as she had suspected it would). She had the nerve to mention that she noticed that I had kids “late in life”. Are you serious lady and now you want me to listen to anything after that? Wah wah wah wah wah (Charlie Brown teacher talk in case you didn't catch on). So anyway....today was the day I was going to see another dentist, hopefully this would go better, I needed work done, and I needed it bad but not by that lady!

So appointment at 11:00 am, this should be easy right? Not so much, the babies did not want to cooperate, matter of fact, they wanted to do just the opposite. They decided to pick this morning of all mornings to beat the holy crap out of each other and referee was NOT on my agenda. It's OK though, I have fruit snacks and juice so I bribe them (as all good mothers do) and they behave. We get out of here at 10:25 am which should be plenty of time, but it's not. You see, we live on an island and none of the dentists (or doctors for that matter) are covered under our horrible insurance so I have to travel extensively to get to a “covered” practitioner. So as usual, I'm in a rush. I punch the address into the GPS (by the way, this bitch has a crush on my husband and HATES me so I'm always leery about trusting her, especially if I'm in a hurry). GPS says we'll make it on time...and we're off! UT OH...gas is extremely low and the idiot light is flashing but I know I can make it so no need to stop!

We're almost there and all of a sudden I hear “recalculating”. Oh no, here she goes. GPS whore got jealous again and decided to get us lost. Gas light and dinger still blinking on a regular basis. So she put us 10 minutes behind with her round-about ways. It's OK, we all make nice and pull into our destination. Enter dentist office...stage left. I sign in and the kids and I sit down. News on the TV and one of the nice ladies notices the kids are not happy and turns on PBS...YAY Barney! We sit, and sit, and sit, and sit, literally for half an hour. The lady behind the counter asks impatiently if I have finished my paperwork yet to which I politely reply that she never gave me any. Oops, her bad, she forgot. She brings it to me, all 7 pages, OK kids are getting restless now. I fill it out with a quickness and bring it up front. Now the fun really begins. I'm called back for x-rays, Bubby is NOT pleased. X-rays complete. Sit another 10 minutes. Called back for one more x-ray, wow, this can't be good. Again, Bubby is not a happy little man. Settle back in the waiting room and the dentist is ready for me. We go back....cars, baby dolls, diaper bag and babies...all of us. At this point, they are anxious and ready to leave, it has been over an hour. I sit down, the dentist walks in. He is all of 12 years old and I'm thinking maybe the overly painted lady might have been a better choice. Much to my surprise, he is a very kind, soft-spoken, intelligent young man and he is OK with the babies being there. Asks his assistant to get them some paper and pens and proceeds to check x-rays. OK, now we're talking, this is going great! Then the bad news starts trickling in. I need some work done, it's been too long since I've seen the dentist and things have run a muck (damn recession). The kicker is the root canal that apparently is a must even though I have no pain in that tooth. The tooth that I busted long ago and far away while opening a beer bottle in college as a party trick, and although I knew the old cap breaking off was a problem, I didn't know that the decay had become such a problem behind said cap. So after a little chit-chat, I head back out to the lobby to get my estimate (like I'm a broken car or something). Estimate total is $1177...WOW...the things I could buy with that! OK, so I broke down in tears in the lobby, but let's not go there. We left and headed for Burger King, the kids deserved that!

They didn't eat, of course not, there was a playground, so we packed the meals and headed out to try to do a little shopping (I seriously need some clothes, who can live with only one pair of pants that fits their skinny ass?). They were NOT up for that and they did NOT want to behave so we left and I figured I could look into that this weekend. I'm OK with that, but once I got them strapped in, I realized that I still had not gotten gas and the idiot light was blaring at me now reminding me of this every 5 or so seconds. Oh crap, so I plug in gas stations and the GPS whore tells me I'm only about 1.5 miles away. So we drive, then we sputter, then we stop. No, we don't stop at the gas station because we didn't make it that far, we glide into the off ramp, turn on the flashers, and we sit. Now what? I crank the car, nothing. Crank again, nothing. Don't crank again because I might flood the beast and that will add a whole new myriad of problems. I turn off all electronics and I sit, sit, sit. A lady “across the way” asks if we're OK. Of course we aren't, but I tell her we are out of gas and she tells me she's going to go get some and be right back, she never did...BITCH! Then an older gentleman in a yellow shirt drives up next to us and asks what the problem is, I explain. He tells me he has a gas can at home that already has gas in it. He'll go get it and be right back (oh I've heard that before). Now I'm thinking he won't be back either but what other choice do I have? So we sit and wait.

So I'm sitting there and see the police in my rear-view....great....am I going to get a ticket now too? Seems about right with the way things are going. Nope, he walks up and asks what the problem is. I say “just hanging out” then I laugh, what else would I do at this point? I explain that someone is on the way with gas assuming he will just drive off but he offers to stay; doesn't like the babies and I sitting there on the side of the road. Much to my elated surprise, the guy in the yellow shirt drives up shortly with the gas! YAY! He seems a little uneasy that the po-po has joined the party and shakes a bit as he pours the gas in the tank (I'm beginning to believe he had some run-ins in his former life). But the gas is in the tank now and we are all set to go. I crank....tick, tick, tick. Are you kidding me? Pop the hood, battery is corroded, one of the downfalls of living on an island. Dude in the yellow shirt has Dr. Pepper in his car so he pours it all over the battery, corrosion gone (note to self: do NOT drink Dr. Pepper). And again we crank....tick, tick, tick. About this time, po-po #2 pulls up to the rescue. He saunters over to the car with some sort of tooly thing and starts poking around under the hood. The dials on my dash are going insane, but that's about all the action this poking brought about. The guy in the yellow shirt is looking more and more nervous and decides to depart and why wouldn't he? His work here is done. So po-po 1 and po-po 2 decide there is nothing else they can do except push me to safety (a little access road a ways up) where I will sit for another hour waiting on my husband. Bubby's asleep and Bug is playing with her Burger King toy, we'll be fine. They didn't like leaving us there but I explained I was a big girl (why were they rolling their eyes?) and that I appreciated their help but they had done enough. So they reluctantly pulled away, giving me their cards just in case.

So I sit and I wait, make a few phone calls, update my Facebook status of course and then I see po-po #2 pulling back up with a tow truck behind him. He apparently had been thinking and decided that even if it was my alternator or solenoid, jumping the battery might be enough to get me home so he brought Friendly the tow truck driver to do the jumping. Positive to positive, negative to negative, crank and folks...we have lift off! The relief I felt at this point is simply indescribable, until of course I looked at that damned blinking gas light again and realized that I would not have enough gas to make it back to the island. Damn! Po-po #2 really was a very nice man who had been amused by my ramblings throughout this ordeal so after giggling at my last cuss-filled tirade, he offered to follow me to the gas station a mile away but instructed me NOT to turn off the car when we stopped for gas. I argued (because that's what I do) that you are supposed to turn off the car, the signs say so. He rolls his eyes, I know what this means, I'm in trouble, so I get in my car and head to the gas station, po-po in tow. Put $15 in my tank (leaving the car running as instructed), I bid a fond adieu to my new friend and with butt cheeks clenched, I begin the long drive home to the island.

We made it, no sputtering, no problems whatsoever as a matter of fact. I didn't stop at the grocery store as planned, I didn't dare, but that's OK because I was just happy to be home. I unload the kids who seem unphased by this whole ordeal and I go back out to check my car. Cranked right up first try. Go out a bit later, cranked again. Matter of fact, it has cranked every time since then. Not quite sure what the forces that be were trying to tell me but I think it must be something major. Karma is a bitch so let's just hope I only did a little something wrong and this was the entire punishment. I just don't think I could handle another one like this! So much for a day off, better luck next time!