Bathroom Issues

Oh, I know what you are thinking...no one needs to hear about this but I beg to differ, someone needs to listen and some changes need to be happening around here. I would like to say I am a laid back type of person that can just go with the flow but that is just crap, pun intended. Pet Peeves? I have a few...thousand. Last night one of my biggest ones reared its ugly head and Momma went on a rampage.

We have 3 bathrooms in this house. Three throne rooms, potties, johns, crappers, piss pots, toities, whatever you want to call them and as I walked through my home EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM HAD SHIT IN IT! No one was currently using them, they were all left abandoned brimming full of foul smelling, gag inducing, SHIT!

What I don't understand is that we are living in the 21st century. We have running water, indoor plumbing and tax payer provided sewage systems. My family does not have to fetch a pail of water, dump a chamber pot or even brave the elements to use the "facilities". Our toilets are modern day marvels that boast all the finest amenities including...wait for it...A FRIGGING LEVER TO FLUSH THE DAMN THING! And this lever is literally inches away from their little hands as they sit on this modern contraption.

I have tried everything to get my kids to flush the toilet. I have asked nicely, begged, yelled, screamed, taken toys away and threatened to flush said toys down the crap infested waters. We even went through a period that if a toilet was found unflushed, regardless who the offending party was, all parties would immediately stop what they were doing and toilets would be cleaned. For about 3 months you could have eaten off my toilets! They sparkled and shined because they were all being cleaned out at least twice a day. Of course we also used enough toilet bowl cleaner to sponsor the Tidy Bowl NASCAR Team all on our own.

Even as I sit here in my office I know full well that there is at least one toilet in my house that is full. The fact that I know at any point of any given day I can stumble across a bowl full of crap is unsettling. Or is it? Can I find comfort in the fact that I know these little idiosyncrasies of my family. Is this one of the things they say you will grow to miss when they grow up and leave the house? Will one day in the future when my children are blazing their own trails of independence, will I gaze longingly into a clean toilet bowl and wish for the days when it was full of shit?

HELL NO! JUST FLUSH THE DAMN TOILET!

My Girls

Every woman needs her girls! You know, the women you surround yourself with that you can be true to yourself, let yourself go and as one of my girls says "show your ugly". In fact, this group of women want you to show them your ugly. They respect you more for showing your ugly and the bonds that develop from those ugly moments are the ties that remain unbreakable for years to come.

I am truly lucky to have a great set of girls that are both near and far. Some of my girls I am lucky to see on almost a daily basis and others I am lucky if I see them once every few years. At the drop of a hat I know I could call any one of them and they would be there for me. They would move heaven and hell if they thought it would make things better. I would never hesitate to do the same for each one of them. They are MY Girls.

I am very protective of my girls and at times it has bitten me squarely in the ass because of it. I often take on their battles as my own and occasionally I have fought to near death for something that really wasn't my battle to fight. I have nearly jumped on planes to right wrongs. Countless hours have been spent dissecting marriages, friendships and kids. Unmeasurable tears have been spilled over hurts, illnesses and losses. I would do them all again without a hesitation because they are MY girls.

The love I feel for them is different than the love I share with my husband, children or family. I have chosen these women the same as they have chosen me. That conscious thought, that effort, the basic free will of choice makes the love more special and unique. It is precious and dear to me and I cherish each one of them. This doesn't mean that occasionally we don't see eye to eye on something or get our feelings hurt by each other, but those things seem to work themselves out because they are MY girls.

To MY Girls, and you know who you are, I love you more than words can say and much more than I probably show you. The gifts you give to me of yourselves, your time and your life are the most precious gifts I have ever received. Thank you for letting me show you my ugly and loving me all the more for it.

First Impressions

What has happened to the youth of our country? Are we failing so miserably in teaching them the basic rules of life? Do they just lack the common sense chip, have we bred it out of our children?

I have a good friend that owns a boutique sportings good shop in our town and I work there a couple days a week. I enjoy the interaction with other people, getting out of the house and doing something completely separate from my normal routine. While it is not my passion, I still respect both my friend and the fact that I have given her my word I would do a good job. I am on time, I work hard, and I talk to just about everyone that walks through the door.

Yesterday, about 4 people walked through the door seeking out employment. Not one of them was dressed nice. Not one of them introduced themselves to me. In fact, I had one even interrupt me while I was with a customer just so they could ask if we were hiring. Two of them came in together with shaggy hair, unkept clothes, their school bags on their backs and attitudes to spare. What are these kids thinking?

I was taught that when you are seeking employment with an establishment, you always present your best appearance in both clothes and hygiene. While it is a small retail shop I wouldn't expect a suit or dress, but I do expect some effort. I know these kids would never dare look this way if going out on the town with their friends. Nice jeans and a cool top would be the norm, but while looking for a jobs they wear sweats and ratty tees? Do they think the potential employers are going to be impressed with their casual appearance? Do they not understand that first impressions can never be altered? As they walk through that door they are establishing how they will represent the business?

Having children of my own I understand all to well the struggles of dressing in age/weather/occasion appropriate attire. Some days I give in the fight and just let them wear whatever makes them happy, but only if the situation allows. Sometimes I can't back down because the lesson I am trying to teach them of respecting others sometimes includes how they present themselves. After witnessing the parade of unkept job seekers that stumbled through the door yesterday, I am renewed in my quest to teach my own children the basic principal of always putting your best foot forward.

After all, you never get a second chance at a first impression and based on my first impression of the job seekers that came through my door yesterday, I told them we weren't hiring.

Not My Mystery

Funny things happen everyday. Really, they do and the only difference in my world is that what I find funny is not always shared by others around me. I have a very dry and sarcastic wit and I always thought I appreciated that in others until I met my match...my own child.

For a 10 year old her sarcastic craft definitely has some maturing and molding to become a true dry wit, but by God she is developing a sense of humor that will make the Sahara Desert look like a tropical oasis. She is quick, her delivery is perfectly timed and she gives nothing away in either her speech or expressions. She is brilliant even in light of the fact that her favorite punch line is usually me.

Oh yes, I have gotten what I deserve. I have bred one just like me. She is my payback. She is my mini me. She is good and she knows it. She knows my buttons and pushes them like the maestro she is. She is 10 years old damn it! What hope is there for me when she hits her teens?

Don't believe me? Please allow me to share a little story.

I am notorious for misplacing my keys. The frantic search as I am heading out the door is common place in our home and while I know it is futile I still ask the question to my loving family..."Has anyone seen my keys?".  Most often the universal response is a mumbled "no" offered in such a manner that it is certain that the question was not even heard and the standard response will appease Mom enough so they can return to whatever electronic device has them captured to the point of a near coma. But one day the standard and expected answer was not used. From the mouth of my sweet girl a different answer emerged and as I was frantically searching through my purse for what was sure the third or fourth time the response offered to me was..."Not my mystery".

Not my mystery? Not my...what? Did you just say...? WHAT JUST HAPPENED HERE?

There she sat with a slight smirk on her face and a shrug to her shoulder. It was not her mystery. Plain and simple and she knew she had me.

It was one of those moments that defines who we are. How I reacted to this one statement could possibly shape our relationship for years to come. So I did what I felt was the only thing I could do, I laughed my head off. The pride that I felt was almost overwhelming. Her response was smart, hilarious and delivered with perfection. It was beautiful and I told her so.

I also told her that if she ever used that line on me again it could possibly be the last words she would ever utter.

In the begining...

First off, thank God there is a spell check on this thing! While I enjoy writing and I often experience an euphoric state after my more passionate pontifications, most of the time the words I truly wanted to use are not contained in the piece because of my horrific inability to spell. This, I am sure is just the first of many of my faults I will reveal within this blog.

Second, why blog at all? It is my husband's fault. I love this man deeply, but alas, he is often at the center of my more hair brained ideas in one form or another. I have recently turned 40 and as many of us do, I am going through a bit of a crisis. Not the get a sports car or squeeze on the side crisis, but one of the "what the hell am I going to be when I grow up" variety. For the last 10 years I have been a mom. I wouldn't change that and being so has definitely played a role in shaping who I am but I am at the point that I am ready to be something more. Not sure what that more is, but I know there is a more.

So, during my latest tirade in the car as I am bitching about something or another and my absolute disgust in the lack of real information on the subject and that we should all know the truth about what really happens during whatever situation has stirred my constantly bubbling pot, my husband simply states, "why don't you write a book about it then". God how I hate when that man is right.

Although after a little thought and knowing my limited time resources, because did I mention that I am a mom? I decided that instead of delving into my great all American, I can't believe you didn't write this sooner, it changed my life novel, I will begin instead with a blog. Give this writing thing a test drive if you will. This is my midlife sports car and I am going to kick the tires a bit, take her for a spin and see how fast I can get this baby to go.

Thanks for coming on the test drive with me.