Idiot Parents and Psycho Kids, Does Not a Good Family Make

Be prepared for controversy today.  I know some of you may have strong opinions on this one, but hear me out...

I was listening to a really crappy morning radio show the other day during the daily kid shuttle, only because every other station was on commercial break.  I was also curious as to what was so great about this morning crew of which people raved.  The answer was: nothing.  But I can now give an educated opinion that they suck.  I digress.  They were talking about a guy who had been shot in the city in front of some kids, which lead to why were the kids out with no supervision anyway?  (which I didn't see how that had anything to do with the murder, the guy was down the street and someone shot him)  So the clueless hosts started to rant about the lack of good parenting in urban homes.  Oy, why not just pull out some racial slurs while you're at it?  So the insipid male host went into full on rant mode emphatically stating that all children would be best raised by 2 parents.  That would be a Mom and a Dad.

*Ahem*

He ranted on and on that there would be less crime if there were two parents and more supervision in the home.  Let me just point out one small detail that Insipid Host Guy missed -  if said supervision is a moron, it won't necessarily produce better behaved offspring.

Let me present a few different scenarios.  Now, this isn't a big ole pro-gay parenting rant, don't get your pre-conceived panties in a bunch, I'm just pro-good parenting... just let me present these facts....


* Lyle and Erik Menendez were raised by two wealthy suburban married hetero parents.  (For those too young for the reference, these fine boys were convicted of murdering their parents in 1989)


* I have 3 children and they have a lot of friends and know who does what at school.  Most of the kids that are perpetually in trouble at school come from two parent hetereo homes.


* My older daughter has a classmate who is a boy raised by two moms.  He's 15, star athlete, A student, well mannered, very masculine and dates girls.  I guess the gay agenda to raise a new generation of all gay, all the time failed there, huh? 


* I know some single hetero moms that are raising kids that haved dropped out of high school and are doing nothing but smoking pot and playing video games.  (the kid, not the mom)


* I know two parent hetero homes that have perfectly nice, smart children, but wouldn't know how to withstand a crisis or make a decision if their life depended on it. 


*  George Washington, first president, Founding Father, highly revered symbol of this country... was raised by a single mother.  (his Father died when he was 11)


*  Oprah Winfrey, the most successful and wealthiest female media mogul ever, was raised by several different people.  First by her single teen Mother, then her Mother and Grandmother, then just her Grandmother, then by the man she thought was her biological Father, then she ran away from home for a while, then moved back with Mom.


*  I know a local kid who was raised by two Moms (one Mom was biological via sperm donor), but by junior high the Moms seperated.  Both Moms are attorneys.  So then that made him a child of gay divorced parents, living between two homes.  He was a nice smart kid when he was little, now he's a slacker pothead hanging around with the kind of dirtbag crowd, who I'm not sure is even going to college.


*  A friend had a child with her first husband, he ran off and later she remarried.  The child has been raised by Step-Dad as if it was his own.  The child is well mannered, successful college graduate living in NYC.


* Shania Twain, a perfectly nice successful country singer was physically abused by her Step-Father.


*  President Bill Clinton was first raised by two parents, then Father died so it became a single parent home, then mother remarried and he was beaten up often by his Step-Father.  Although his treatment of females is questionable, he did become POTUS.

*Charles Manson was born to an unwed 16 year old runaway sometimes prostitute who kept trying to pawn him off to orphanages, relatives or other random people, having once traded him to a childless waitress for a pitcher of beer.  And we all know what happened to him...

*  Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold who committed the Columbine High School Massacre in 1999 were both raised in suburban hetero two parent homes.


*  And finally... me.  I have 3 children, got divorced when they were all under 7.  Later Dad disappeared completely, and left us destitute.  I didn't have any romantic relationships the first 9 years of  being divorced.  I work full time but still qualify for food and medical aid.  My oldest is graduating from a top all boys prep school and going to NYU next year.  My girls are both A students, good athletes, well mannered and go to a good all girls school.


My point?  Not sure, I started off thinking good parenting was the key, but some of my scenarios have proven otherwise.  There is no perfect formula for raising non-troubled children.  I'm not married but I'd say my kids are pretty good so far, but should I run out and get married just because Bristol Palin said my kids should have a Mom and Dad?  Which we all know is idiotic because she was an unwed teen mom who pushed her baby-daddy out of the picture.  WTF?

And that whole sanctity of marriage thing?  With people choosing purposely to have babies out of wedlock, the divorce rate for first marriages is (approx.) 50%, second marriages 67%, and third marriages 75%, I'd say that sanctity was shot to hell along time ago.

At first I thought the only thing to ensure decent kids is to not be an idiot, but I've seen offspring of idiots turn out well.  And I've seen children of nice people become deeply troubled.  However, I still don't recommend being an idiot parent like, oh say, the "Tan Mom" Patricia Krentcil.  But who knows her kids could turn out to be rocket scientists.  Not likely, but ya' never know.

Well hell, now I'm more confused than when I started this blog.  Is parenting just luck or chance?  Nah.  Um... maybe?  However I'd say it's safer to be a good parent than not.  All I know is that there is no magic formula like some would have you believe of having a two parent hetero home.  I am certain that the family dynamic does not pre-determine the success of the child.  Neither terrible parenting nor problematic children are exclusive of any one race, socio-economic group, sexual orientation, or living situation.  So... good luck with that.

Let me know what you think, is there a formula for parenting?

My Own 50 Shades of Grey: The Time I Delayed a Rock Show

In this blog having an adult survival guide theme, I explore the many ways I have survived life and all the various crises that come with it, in hopes it can give others some insight.  A vital part of surviving life is to live a little.  In wiping children's behinds, clipping husband's toenails, scooping up dog poop, working 50 hours a week, and finding the missing soccer cleat... you can forget who you are.  I firmly believe that experiencing your interests in life bolsters who you are, forges your identity and gives you more strength to get through the tough times.

I've had my kids 100% of the time for the last 3 years.  They are all teens now so I can still manage to get out for a while without needing a sitter.  But that's provided they don't have a game, concert, rehearsal, practice, hair appt., date, or work.  I thank God that when they were much younger and I was first divorced, their Dad took them every other weekend (mostly) and I had time to myself.  I could let loose a lot more when I had a whole weekend to myself.  Now, I go out and know that everyone is home waiting for me, it's like being a teenager again.  Oy.

I'm not your typical woman.  Most other women pick up hobbies such as scrapbooking, yoga, knitting, baking, couponing, paddle tennis or book club.  Me, I'm still a punk girl at heart.  I first got into alternative music (back then we called Punk and New Wave), around 1977 when I was in junior high.  So, I've been a sort of alternative interest person since I was a kid.  I like weird people, good music, dive bars, art exhibits, and great old school DJs.  However, I also enjoy golf, fine dining, wine tasting, PTA meetings and long walks on the beach.  You wouldn't notice my alter ego by my suburbanite appearance:

Oh look, it's Biff and Muffy!

About 6-10 years ago when I lived in Denver I used to frequent this place that was a converted warehouse space that housed a 3-4 bedroom apartment and performance space.  I had a few friends that lived there and they threw a monthly party that showcased a few bands each time along with other exhibits including things like art displays, poetry readings, tattoo artists, piercing artists, body painting, and even light S&M displays.  The S&M thing was incrediby tame, just some dude in a leather Speedo and harness strapped to a rack with a girl in an outfit that was a cross between dominatrix and hippie Earth Mother was just flogging him with one of those leather fringe-y things.  No biggie.  I think it was more of a tactile awareness seminar.

Are you afraid of me yet?

Yea, it was slightly a freak show, but I felt inspired there.  I let my inner weirdo free.  Everyone was incredibly loving and friendly, it wasn't seedy.  Anyway, for a while I was dating one of the fine young gentleman that lived there.  He played in a band but he was also a paramedic by day.  One night his band was playing and we planned to meet for the festivities.  I was a size 4 back then, and I showed up in a cute mini skirt and form fitting, cleavage baring top, and high wedge sandals.  I arrived to find him, let's call him "Ira", ready for his performance in just a pair of leather pants and no shirt.  Yes he was quite chiseled.  It was obvious that we both found what each other was wearing that night very appealing.  *ahem*

See, I'm trying to not make this sound seedy and lurid.  Because it wasn't.  ... Really!

He was slated to perform soon but we decided we needed some alone time, pronto.  We retreated to his room without haste.  I felt alive, I felt desired as a woman.  As we were locked in our intense lover's embrace *ahem* ... knocks started at the door.  We were too consumed with each other to pay attention.  They became increasingly more demanding "Ira, Ira, are you in there?"  He ignored them, I was flattered.  "Ira, come on man, we gotta' go on."  (apparently the rest of the band was on stage tuning up)  "Ira, are you in there with Madge?"  Finally he throws them a bone, er uh I mean he says "Yea, hang on, I'll be right out".  Apparently this was a signal for them to start the heckling.  "Get off the babysitter, Joel"  (a line from the movie "Risky Business")  That one made me laugh, and have trouble concentrating.  Soon, it seemed there were several people pounding on the door.  Oh sweet Jesus, did the whole place know what we were
up to?





At first I laughed, then as more voices were heard and then his shoulder length hair kept getting in my face, I decided it might be time to let the show go on, his show that is.  But um, the timing was good I guess, and uh we were finished anyway.  Uh yea, so we quickly got ourselves together and he ran out of the room to get on stage.  He told me we'd continue after the show.  Rawr!


There he was up on stage growling his usual growl, dripping with sweat and sex appeal, and he winked at me.  I was high on sex, gin and tonic, and rock 'n roll, my friends!  I just had the lead singer!  I held up a rock show. 

He ripped through the show and we did what any late 30 something, red blooded American, rock n' roll couple would do after the show... we passed out.  No, not like drunk-like passed out, sleepy passed out.  I have my moments but I don't think I'm still 25, duh.  But for a moment I remembered I'm alive, I'm fun, I'm desirable, I'm a woman, and I still have a pulse.  Ain't no lie.  So, that was fun. 

But remember, it's important to seperate that from the Mommy stuff.  Don't be doin' the more adult stuff in front of the kiddies.  Priorities.   At first it was hard not to feel weird when my kids came back home but I learned to realize I have two identities.   It's ok to be an adult woman with her own interests when kids aren't around.  And no the aforementioned scene was not my only hobbie, I did other things like work out, watch movies with girl friends, Irish women's club, dinner with friends, hockey games, you name it.  Don't judge!

My adult time reminded me that I'm strong and vibrant.  And refueled me to get through the tough times.  You don't have to neccessarily do the stuff I did, uh book clubs and jewelry parties are good too.  Maybe I should have just gone to book club?  Yea, there's a time for that too.  You guys really need to get out more.  :)

Am I Supposed to Look Poor? Income Levels Should Have Uniforms.

I saw a status on Facebook the other day that said something to the effect, "If you're on welfare, how can you  afford a smartphone?".  Which made me think of a whole image problem I've had for a while.

The question is... if you're, shall we say... uh underprivileged, or uh living below the poverty line, or dare I say it "poor"... oh hell, if you're broke-ass broke... are you obliged to look the part?

Are you being a poser if you try to look wealthy when you're poor?  Or to think of it another way, if you are surviving with government assistance are you supposed to look the part?  And what is the part?  Dirty ratty clothes, a pair of brokedown Toughskin jeans, a pair of warn out generic K-Mart sneakers, messy hair, dirty finger nails?  When you go to the Department of Social Services do you demand to see the "poor and huddled masses"?  "Excuse me Miss, I'm here to inspect your dreggs of society to make sure they are poor and huddled."

Here's why I bring this up.  I know I'm like a broken record, but there was a time I was broke.  Right now, I'm mid range broke, but there was a time I was lowest of the low broke.  Long story short, ex-husband split and stopped paying support, I lost my job, unemployment got held up for like 6 weeks, no savings, got evicted, yada yada.  I had absolutely no income for 6 or 8 weeks with 3 kids.  I entered hot mess land.   I was cleaning friends toilets and writing real estate appraisal reports and ad copy for $10 or $20 here and there (I kid you not) for money to eat, while I looked for a full time gig.  So, I went to social services, and that of course took a few weeks to get through the red tape, I think about 6 or 8 weeks later foodstamps and heat assistance kicked in.

My background, grew up in a family with 2 parents who were Penn State grads, my Dad is a WWII veteran, both parents were white collar, we had belonged to a country club at one time, we travelled, eventually my parents owned a second home in AZ, all 6 of us kids went to college, some advance degrees, I went to college in Maine for 4 years.  Bottom line, basically I'm well bred and educated, I ain't no slouch.  Soooo...

When I had several trips to the DSS, I was thinking "how should I look?".  Should I look like a Wal-Mart shoper?  A dumpster diver? I remember judging people in the past and thinking, "you're in the welfare office, why are you wearing Baby Phat with your hair and nails all done talking on your smartphone?".  We've all done it.  Shut it!  No!  You know you have.  I was still trying to work and going on interviews so I would be dressed and ready for work, coiffed hair and makeup.  But I felt like I should go in there with no make up, hair in ponytail, sweatpants, kids in just a diaper, smoking and yelling at my kids about kicking their asses.

My Catholic guilt is actually palable, isn't it?  You can see the visions of self flagellation rising from my head, can't you?

My ex in-laws used to judge me all the time because I presented myself well, they thought I was taking the mountain of money small stipend that their son was giving me for child support and spending it all on myself.  HA!  My kids even defended me, they know I never spend anything on myself.  They have to prod me to do it.  I have gone a year at a time without buying a stitch of clothing for myself, only to be forced to because I wore out the crotch in my only good pair of pants or something.  I am just frugal and have enough dignity to try and keep myself presentable.  My in-laws refused to believe that even though I looked fabulous, I was only wearing a 5 year old $79 coat from JC Penney, a $10 3 year old Calvin Klein sweater from Marshall's, a $15 6 year old tweed skirt from Marshall's, 5 year old $19 BCBG shoes from Marshall's.  And I simply dried and straightened my own hair, tastefully put on makeup, and painted my own nails with a 2 year old bottle of OPI nail polish, and wore the only necklace and earrings I owned which were stylish pearls given to me by their son 15 years earlier.  Is that so wrong?

By being properly dressed or wearing something with a label and having my nails done and checking my email on my smartphone that was a free upgrade at contract renewal time and is the only phone I have now, no home phone... I'm sure I have been labeled by strangers as a welfare fraud case a few times.

Some people think you should be "real" and look the part of whatever your income is.  I felt bad for making myself look like a million bucks when I only had 59 cents to my name.  It reminded me of that old Carol Burnett skit when she plays Scarlett O'Hara and her house had burnt down but she comes to the door in a dress made from the curtains with the rod still in it.  That's me... sans rod.  I guess I'm more like the movie.  But I am kind of quirky, I would wear the rod.  OK, nevermind.

I do have to admit that I feel really guilty when I go into Wegmans wearing fabulous heels and a dress, hair and nails done and I pay with foodstamps.  But again, did my own hair and nails, clothes and shoes were either from Target or Marshall's and a few years old. 

I won't be on foodstamps forever.  I do work.  A lot.  But unfortunately for having 3 kids, my household size to income ratio is still below the poverty level.  And I won't be as brazen as Old Dirty Bastard of the Wu Tang Clan and go on MTV and ride in a limo to get my welfare check.  As I get higher paying and more frequent writing jobs, I'll be done with government assistance, but for now I need it.  Now, had my ex paid his child support, I wouldn't need assistance.  I didn't sign up to be a single parent, so I must keep plugging along to get to a level wear I can provide as if I were 2 parents.

So, I just ask that the next time you see someone coming out of DSS or paying with foodstamps at the store and they are well groomed and dressed properly... don't be so quick to judge.  We all need help from time to time.  Don't be hatin'...

Off Like a Prom Dress...

Over on my Facebook Page http://www.facebook.com/MadgesAdultSurvivalGuide (which you should all go and "Like") I had a little contest as to what I should write about next.  And the lovely and talented Michele Clark Powell won with her prom theme suggestion.  She suggested I compare proms of today to yesterday and goaded me into posting pics.

This was easy as I have 3 teenagers who are in prime prom season.  Of course it's totally different nowadays.  Now, prom is a cross between a nightclub, wedding reception, bar mitzvah, and Teamster's Convention post stripper party.  I give you some examples:

It's turned into a God damn circus now.  Starting from the asking part, you can't just ask a girl to prom, you have to have a "prom proposal".  It's a gradiose gesture akin to a marriage proposal.

Ridiculous.  At least these days they will have the prom at a banquet hall or something with dinner included.  We used to decorate our gym, have it in there and go out to eat someplace else beforehand.  And that was usually at some stuffy old place that your parents thought was fine dining.  It usually featured velvet wallpaper.

Then there was transportation.  In my day the boy just borrowed his Dad's car and maybe double dated with another couple.

Now they do this...

It's like a modern day Joad family, where 18 couples pile into a stretch Hummer and party like it's 1999... er somethin'.

The main meat of the prom is pretty much the same  - dancing, awkward socializing, douchie dudes trying to get up and sing with the band, girls crying in the bathroom.  The only slight difference is now there is grinding and simulated sex on the dance floor (unless you have a school policy against it) and there is the occassional shirtless toolbag gymrat/spray tan guy attempting to break dance.

After parties have changed slightly.  When I was in high school, some kid might have kids over in his basement to drink, smoke pot, and makeout after the prom.  Or you just went parking, that's when Dad's old station wagon came in handy, back seat goes down.  What?  Don't tell me you didn't?  Hey, the drinking age was 18 at the time, it was a different era.  Didn't you ever see "16 Candles"?  I know they still do the drinking and stuff but now they are renting hotel rooms!  Sorry but I'll do whatever I can to keep my teenage son or daughter away from a hotel room.  Oy!

However one thing remains the same over time... if all goes well the night will end like this...

Actually I knew a girl in high school that never even made it into the prom, she spent the whole time making out with her date in the car in the parking lot.

Anyway, here is a little glimpse into my past lameness.  My high school had 2 "proms" a year, a winter ball and Spring prom.  Here is my very first winter ball in 1979.  I was 14 years old, my boyfriend was 2 years older, that's why I went to so many proms.  Check out his lovely maroon tux:

Here we are in the Spring of 1980 at prom.  I've always gone for the stylish ones.  My gown was made out of white cotten eyelet material, the stitching around the eyelets was a light green.  It was actually a bridesmaid dress from my sister's wedding worn by another sister 4 years before.  Hey, I was frugal:

Then we come to the winter ball of 1980.  Wasn't I uber preppy in my floor length plaid skirt and black velvet vest?  How he could resist my hotness, I have no idea:

And our final prom together, Spring 1981.  That gown was a beautiful baby blue, you can't really see in this pic.  And of course John was so handsome in all white. lol  What's with the fence?:

My junior year, I moved to a new school which totally sucked.  My boyfriend went off to college and eventually dumped me by the end of his Freshman year for a college coed. :(  So I went to prom in Spring 1982 with a friend who acted like a putz after I rejected his romantic advances, so I don't feel the need to show him here:

Why does my hair look different in all these pics?  Some look dark, some look light.  I swear I never did any coloring except for the chlorine from the pool, I was on swim team I was in it twice a day.

Spring 1983.  My senior year, I had a new boyfriend from another school who I was all set to go to the prom with but he was messing around with his sister and broke a window at his house so his punishment was that he couldn't go to my prom.  Seriously?  Your punishment is to not let your girlfriend enjoy her senior prom?  His mother was an f-ing idiot anyway.  I still hate her, even though I haven't seen her in 29 years.   Oh well, I had already gone to 5 proms.

So, what are some of your proms stories?  Worst prom?  Best prom?  Share a picture with me!  If you can't post it here, (which I'm sure you can't) send it to me at mzabelny@yahoo.com.  And I'll post it!

My Whole Life Has Been a Lie!

I love to watch some reality shows that concentrate on people's behaviors.  No, I'm not talking "Hoarders", that gives me anxiety... and the creeps.  I'm talking about like the matchmaking shows where they get people to understand their own behavior and try to make them more acceptable to others.  Also the business makeover shows like "Tabatha Takes Over" or the "Kitchen Nightmares" type shows.  Where the owners are made to realize why their business sucks so bad and it's usually because the owner is a putz or inept or just oblivious.  Don't judge me.  I'll tell you why...

People's perception of themselves can be wildly out of whack with reality.  Those people with mental disorders like anorexia or plastic surgery addicts, not withstanding... everyday people don't always think of themselves the way others do.  Good or bad.  So I love when these shows secretly videotape people, then show them the footage and how they come across.  "Wow I seem like a real (insert any of the following) - asshole, loser, whiner, prick, arrogant jerk, Debbie Downer!"  That's usually the result.  Then you have some narccisist (read: douchebag)  in denial that still thinks they were in the right and it was the editing, or that the behavior was still warranted.  Mel Gibson, anyone?  But sometimes the opposite can be true, a person can be surprised when they see themselves on film and they are oblivious to the fact that people do like them.

 It all made me realize that I would probably be pretty horrified if I could see video of me dating a few years ago.  It made me realize I was a girl behaving badly.   Yea, I cringe when I think of it now.  No wonder that guy never called me again because I sat there regailing my tails of woe for hours about how crappy my marriage was and how poor I am.  *face palm*  It's a wonder I didn't come back from the bathroom and find the guy dangling from a noose.  I'm sitting here flogging myself right now, trying to atone...

Our behavior is a combination of things... stories people have told us and stories we've told ourselves.  If you were like me and had nuns telling you what an evil child you were all through grade school, you start to perpetuate the myth and tell yourself the same story.  In reality, a nun could have said that only once, but I kept believing it and perpetuated it in my head.  So when I would get in intimate conversations with people I would starting relaying to them what a degenerate I was/am. 

Truth is, I've never done anything really bad my whole life.  I only ever got in trouble for performing my own version of Pop Up Video in class frequently (I always had a factoid, joke, or side comment about the subject at hand) or I was caught laughing at someone else's remarks.  I never skipped school, never did anything illegal like stealing or drugs, never dated bad boys, didn't drop out, didn't get pregnant, never got arrested.  My only crime was that I was sort of a class clown.  Does that make me bad?  NO!  And God damn it, stop thinking it does!

I guess the other thing that makes me feel bad sometimes is that I had an unsuccessful marriage.  However, I am not responsible for his behavior, I can only own that I recognized it was bad and got away from him.  I also feel bad that for the past 10 years, I've been broke because I've had no big huge career.  However, I did have one pretty successful career and that was being a parent, because I have raised some really great kids, I have a son going to NYU next year (are you sick of me saying that yet?).  I'm just broke because their Dad stopped paying his half, and I have stepped up my efforts to try and make up for his half of the money.  *subliminal message - hire me for marketing writing and social media now!*

Sometimes I can't accept my successes though, it must be that Catholic guilt.  For instance I feel bad being on my boyfriend's country club membership or that my kids go to private school because I still receive foodstamps.  See, how I am?  The kids got scholarships and aid to the private schools because they are extremely smart, and it doesn't cost my bf any extra to have us on the membership, so shut up, Madge!  The people at the club and school don't know I get foodstamps, well I guess now they do!  I can still act dignified, can't I?  Does being on government assistance mean I should immediately start shopping at Wal-Mart in slippers and ratty, dirty jeans, hanging off my ass?

I realized all this the other day when my 15 yr old daughter was talking to me about dating, and I said yea my boyfriend in HS was 2 years older than me.  She was very impressed, so I elaborated.  I said "yea, I was on swim team, cheerleading, and track, he was junior class president, a football player, captain of the swim team".  She was very impressed and asked what he looked like, so I pulled out an old picture album.  "Whoa, he's hot Mom!  Even for an old picture, he's hot!"  I said, "Yea, I guess he was."  And I realized I did have it good.  Until I moved to a new high school jr. year and everybody was mean to me, but by the end of senior year I was in the popular crowd again.  I persevered.  It's what I do.  So I thought to myself, I guess I am good.  I need to remember that and portray that to others... without becoming a douche.  :)

Even That Man vs. Wild Dude Wouldn't Take This Task On...

I am not really afraid of anything.  Except for frogs and rejection.  Don't ask me why but I've had a strange fear of frogs since I was little, I think it's the unpredictable jumping at you thing.  And rejection, well that's why I suck at selling anything except myself.  I was the worst commercial print salesperson ever, but I was a decent realtor.

Anyway... I mean, after raising 3 kids on my own, I usually accept any challenge without reservation.  Maybe a little anxiety but really no fear.  But I have one challenge coming up that I'm a little concerned about.  Oh Christ, more than a little, a lot.   I pride myself on being a one man band, chief cook and bottle washer, mostly because I'm a broke single Mom with a deadbeat ex-husband and can't afford any other solution.  But for this... *gasp* I am considering a third party alternative.

The problem... I live in upstate NY, and my son is going to college in New York City next year, NYU to be exact.  Now, I have absolutely no fear of the city, but this... this is different.  I am going to have to drive into Manhattan with a carload of crap and probably a rooftop carrier since my 2 daughters want to go to see big brother off as well.  NYU has you make reservations for check-in time.  You have like a 15 minute block to drive up in front of the building and schlep your junk to the 22nd floor or whatever.  

I've driven in Manhattan several times but it's so much easier to just park somewhere on the outskirts (NJ) and train it in.   That saves on expensive parking garages and it's just faster.  I can navigate the subway like a purse snatcher on the run!  But this... oy, I mean I can't stop anywhere, I can't leave the car unattended with all the stuff in it.  And I won't be able to see well to squeeze in a left turn or something.  I'm getting hives...

I'm seriously considering, dare I say it.... taking the basics that will fit in the car and shipping the rest.  *clutch the pearls*  I know, I know.  But I'm just getting tightness in my chest thinking about driving a loaded up vehicle like the Griswold's station wagon with the crap tied to the roof into Manhattan.  Then after I unload, where the hell do I park?  Sure, probably some $35/hour garage nearby.  Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I need a drink.  

Maybe it's not fear, maybe it's just being smart and realizing the reallity of things.  I guess if I were afraid, I wouldn't let my son go to NYC in the first place.  God bless him for having no fear either.  But he has his Mother's sense of adventure.  Maybe it's just my common sense saying, "You've done this before, you know how the traffic is, make it easier on yourself."  So maybe instead of being hard on myself for being anxious about it, I should give myself credit for trying to prevent a disaster.  

I used to think the only good, honest, honorable way of accomplishing something was to tackle it head-on the hard way, wrestle it to the ground with my bare fists.  But I guess I'm discovering sometimes the smartest and most sensible way to tackle something is to get help and create the least amount of stress for all involved.

Here's Your Holiday Frozen Dinner Kids, Now Pour Mommy Another Drink...

This is going to be a post with a very small demographic that will be interested in the subject matter.  A niche blog, if you will.  Or maybe I'll be surprised and more people will agree with me.  It's about how I am totally over "Mommies with Small Children" talk.

Yes, yes, I know I'm totally being a hypocrit because I used to be one.  But that's why I hate it now because I've done my time, I'm over the whole poopy diaper talk.  Don't get me wrong, I loooooved being a Mom of small children, I was even a stay-at-home mom for 5 years when my kids were babies and toddlers.  But now they are 18, 15, and 13 and I've raised them 90% by myself with their Dad being MIA, so yea, I'm done with the whole "I found great crafts to do with my kids" stuff.  Screw you, and your crafts.  I enjoy laughing and talking and discussing music and movies with my kids.  They are more entertaining than most adults I know.

I have to say that even when I had small children I was mindful of not incessantly talking about the latest bed wetting incident or how when my son said hockey puck it sounded like a bad word.  And seriously stop making every Facebook status about that stuff too, I'm about to defreind your ass.  I just knew that it was annoying to other people, because honestly when all of my much older brothers and sisters were having kids when I was still in HS, college, and after, and they talked about it all the time, I wanted to punch them in the pancreas.

I don't begrudge Mother's bragging (hell I do that one all the time) or trading stories about their children, but when every new Mom acts like they are the first one to ever have kids it gets on my last damn nerve.  Holy cow, you're right!  You are the first one to ever have a kid dump their entire dinner off of the high chair!  Oh my God, PLEASE tell me what it's like!  *eye roll*

So I'm a bitch.  Yea, say it.  It's just that... I'm tired.  Been there, done that.  And now even when I'm talking to Moms who have teens like me and they talk about all the great crap they are making for the holidays for the kids, I want to get out the ice pick and start stabbing.  I've never been a Suzie Homemaker, but I always tried to make things as special as I could with being broke and no domestic motivation.  I've played Santa and the Easter Bunny all by myself for the past 15 years.  I even played a damn leprechaun on St. Paddy's Day, 'cuz that's how we Irish do.  *thumps chest*  But again, I say to you...

I'm tired.

I put all my energy into working full time, running kids around to every activity and appointment under the sun, and trying to have a relationship, but let's face it, men at our age are just like having another child.  When they start asking you to put ointment on sh*t, it's all over for you in the romance department. 

But with my kids, I put my energy into different areas now.  I am at every event they have, every sport, every concert, every fundraiser at school.  I dry their tears over romantic rejection or frustration with a class.  I know all their friends, I have to because at this age, you let one little scumbag get near them and it can change their whole course of history.  You think I'm kidding?  How many times have you heard the phrase, "I got in with the wrong crowd"?  I rest my case.  Also, I've spent hours upon hours filling out FAFSA forms for these kids to go to their awesome private schools and for my son to go to the college of his choosing next year because he's smart and works hard, (which will probably be NYU).  I'm driving him down to NYU next weekend for an admitted students weekend.  So, you'll forgive me if I don't make God damn homemade Easter baskets!

Oh who am I kidding, I'll still buy some peppermint patties and peanut butter cups on my food stamps and fill up their old baskets.  But I won't be happy about it!  And I don't want to hear about yours! *grumble grumble*  I try to be nice and fein interest, I really do, but please don't make me feel like a big pile of crap because I'm not still in the storytime and playgroup mindset while making Christmas cookies.  I did my time... now get Mommy another drink...