Still trying.....

So, I tried getting in touch with the Super Powers Commission again to try and obtain some super powers of my own... I've been begging and pleading for some super powers for quite some time now. It seems my requests are still going unheard. :sigh: I don't even have to get any of the cool ones like flight or laser vision or shape shifting  or super strength or anything... I mean, the least they could do is respond or something, right? Yup, still trying..... :s

My brain to mouth filter.....

Some things are best left unsaid but my brain to mouth filter has never worked right...... I may not even have one. Hmm..... That would certainly  explain a lot.... 
The thing is though, a good portion of the time, I don't feel as if though I have my foot in my mouth either. Sometimes, I might, but not always. I do catch myself saying something that perhaps shouldn't have been said with my outside voice, sure and I will ask, "Did I say that out loud?" but I am not one to censor myself all the time. Some of the time, I mean the things I say and I mean for them to come out and be heard. Not EVERY time, but there are times.... I'll never say when and which times though....You'll just have to guess.

Mmm hmmmm.......

"Mmm hmmm...." is great. A good portion of the time, it means the person saying it isn't listening. Kids are the most awesome at it. They LOOK like they're paying attention and are nodding their heads and smiling and acknowledging you, but the reality is, they had checked out of the conversation some time back.
I think I'd be less annoyed if they were to come right out and SAY they weren't listening... :s

T.M.I.

There are just certain things that NO ONE ever needs to see or know about. I mean EVER! Like being at a Starbucks and hearing a lady two people in front of you describing LOUDLY to her friend on the phone IN GREAT DETAIL a particularly nasty yeast infection that she had while witnessing said rather rotund woman pulling the spandex that  had creeped up into her asscrack out. I swear it was like the spandex was trying a last ditch effort to kill itself by suffocating itself in the mounds of flesh it was trying to contain..... The fact that she left the house wearing the spandex pants was bad enough......
Stuff like that will make any sane and normal person's synapses misfire and short circuit in order to save itself from those types of images to be permanently burned into one's psyche... Trying to tell one's brain to stop processing the input of information is easier said than done too....
Blech!

The "homework" fights...

Homework gets done right after school in our household. The three younger ones, no issues. They sit down at the table, get it done and off they go to play or whatever. Teen broody pants? Not so much.
He gets home from school and he gives me the obligatory eye roll. I ask him how his day was, he grunts, I tell him to go do his homework, he gives me the sigh of exasperation and trudges off mumbling something under his breath. EVERY DAY. And that's on the days he comes home from school and not off at a friend's house or a girlfriend's house or something. And of course, I've got to go get him.
I mean, seriously? Just the other day, he had to write down the definitions of four, count them FOUR words. It took him nearly an hour and a half. NOT kidding. HE wrote in pen and made a mistake so he screamed at the paper for about a minute, crumpled it up and got a new sheet of paper. Started again and made ANOTHER mistake. I asked him why he wasn't using a pencil. Apparently, they HAVE to use a pen. Whatever. After crumbling up the second piece of paper and retrieving a third to start ALL OVER AGAIN (because apparently, wasting paper is fine...) he made a third mistake. I told him NOT to throw out another sheet of paper, get off his lazy ass and get the white out. Trudging off and mumbling some more obscenities under his breath, he "got lost". After five minutes, I went to go find him. He was in his room playing on his computer. He no longer has one now. That makes me a stupid cow.
Back downstairs, he whites out his mistake and continues. He finds the definition of the first word (yes, the FIRST word) and writes part of it down, loses the page in the dictionary and throws a temper tantrum. Homework is stupid, I'm stupid and the dictionary is stupid too. AWESOME! Then he needed a potty break. He went into the bathroom to poop.... for twenty minutes. It turns out, he was playing with his iPhone.
I can't even begin to tell you how much of a struggle his homework issues can be. It's awesome. Yeah..... June can't come fast enough and when do the teen boy male hormones start to balance out? FUCK!

My mom, Driver level: Asian............

 

Oooooooops!

The short story: My elderly mother hit Puppy Guts' car, while it sat parked in the driveway, and dented it up real good. 

Now, let me give you a more detailed version of the account, people. Trust me. You're gonna love this. It gets good. I promise..... 

So, Guts was sleeping in the bedroom, as he has to work that night. Guts' car was parked in the driveway because, well, it seemed like the right place to park it. There was plenty of room in the driveway leading up to the two car garage and he made sure he left plenty of room for the other car to be able to get out, as he left his car parked behind mine. Well, mom decided that she was going out. She gave Guts' car a quick glance and scoped the amount of driveway space she had to back her car out of the garage. Upon backing said car up out of the aforementioned garage, she promptly Asian-behind-the-wheel-ed right into Puppy Guts' car. Not just a little. A LOT.
She came inside and notified me that she had hit Guts' car. Well, actually, the conversation went a little more like this:
My mom: I hit Rick's car.
Me: Ha, ha.... Funny, ma.
My mom: No. FOR REAL. I hit his car.
Me: Wha? The thing is PARKED in the driveway. It's the size of...... A CAR!!!! How do you not see something the size of a car that's just sitting there? YOU HIT A STATIONARY SOMETHING THE SIZE OF A CAR!!!

So, I ran out the door and there I was standing at the top of the front steps, and the damage is as plain as day..... And there's my mom, standing in the driveway, hunched over, trying to "rub it off" with the sleeve of her shirt, every once in a while stopping to put a little spit on it.........
Me: Ma.... I don't think that's going to work......
My mom: Really? I think it's helping!
Me: No, ma..... Just stop.

The question became, "Do we wake him up?" I mean, on the one side, I was thinking, he just went to sleep an hour ago, and considering he has to work his midnight shift, he needs his sleep. If I wake him and tell him about his beloved car, he probably won't be able to go back to sleep. Not good. Sending in a midnight shift cop into work without having had sufficient sleep. Not good.... But if I DON'T wake him, and he finds out AFTERWARDS, he's going to be all, "Why didn't you wake me??!?!?!" The decision was made. I was going to wake my Puppy Guts up and tell him about his now mangled car..... Did I mention that the front driver's side door was crushed shut and wouldn't open? Yeah...... That too.

Mom says, "Let me go tell daddy first....." and she shuffled upstairs to tell him. A minute later, I hear my dad upstairs, cursing up a blue streak, in a mixture of English and Japanese (ALWAYS amusing to hear the creative uses of bilingual cussing), as he shuffled down the hall, down the stairs and out the front door. And before long, I was watching TWO elderly Asians, standing in the driveway, hunched over, trying to rub the dents, scrapes and damage out of the front end of Guts' car with the sleeves of their shirts, while occasionally using a little bit of spit to help out.....

Me: Um...... That's NOT going to make any of that damage go away!
My dad: Shut up! I think it's working!
My mom (to me): See? I told you!
Me: <face palm> :shaking head: I guarantee the door STILL isn't going to open and the damage is still as bad as it was before......
My dad: But it LOOKS better, so shut up!
Me: Whatever......
(Incidentally, it DIDN'T look better......)

I called my parents' insurance company, explained the deal, and bing, bang, boom: claim number, all the information, "Everything's going to be taken care of for both cars!", thank you very much, bye. Police summoned, incident report, blah, blah, blah, "Here you go, ma'am.... Try to have a nice day!", kthnxbai. Ugh..... It was time to rouse the Puppy Guts.....

Needless to say, when I woke my poor Puppy Guts up a half hour after or so the incident, he wasn't happy, 1.) about being woken up, and 2.) his car being damaged and his driver's side door not opening. He only cried a little bit over his beloved car...... 

Well, the next day, my mom's car and Guts' car went off to their respective body shops to get fixed up nice-y, nice. The rental car companies picked them up .... Guts thought it was unfair that my parents got the Dodge Charger, while he wound up with a four banger Nissan Altima..... But, whatever. 

Thanks for propagating the "Asian behind the wheel" thing, mom! GOOD JOB!
o_O

Yucky feelz.......

Ominous = Hearing that distinct gurgle in the pit your stomach, somewhere in the lower intestines (you know, it almost sounds like your digestive tract gasping out a death rattle...), accompanied by an uncomfortable and unpleasant sensation, (imagine having your guts squeezed out of your ass, like a tube of toothpaste, except that the "cap is still on"...... )

PERHAPS I did "misread" the expiration date on that cheese, and perhaps "the funny taste" WAS an good indication for me to have stopped eating it..... Well.... Lets' just say, "Thank goodness for multiple bathrooms, baby wipes, and air freshener....."  That was one HELLUVAN interesting night.

The moral of this story is: There is a reason why some things have an expiration date. Heed them. And that funny taste becomes NOT funny after a couple of hours, praying for an end to the hell you are enduring, wondering what in the fuck possessed you to eat the questionable cheese....... Just sayin'...... 

Fold or crumple.....

So, I know that I might have posted whether the toilet paper needs to be "hung" a certain way. It should hang over.... It should be under..... Me? I really don't give a shit. I've got a whole mess of kids running around, I'm happy if there IS toilet paper on the roll, because it would seem that NONE of the kids are capable of replacing the toilet paper roll when they are done. Oh, they can USE toilet paper like it's nobody's business, but replace a roll? No. Not so much. So, the next question is, when a person wipes, is it folded or crumpled?
Does it make a difference? Well, I'd like to take the time to examine this. See, I can go either way.... Folding makes for a nice even wipe and the fold over allows for multiple wipes, but crumpling adds "texture" to the wipe surface, allowing for a "scrubbier" action, thus being more effective.....

Yeah.... I know.... I think WAY too much about the weirdest things......

Thanks Jeremy Wade!

I am addicted to the show River Monsters with Jeremy Wade. Seriously, I want to have a beer with the guy. I am betting dollars to doughnuts, behind the proper British-ness, he's a foul mouthed nut with a penchant for partying like a fucking rock star. The weird and creepy things that Jer (I like to picture us as pals, and that I call him Jer...) ends up pulling out of the water fills me with a morbid sense of fascination, as well as sheer terror and an overwhelming desire to scream like a prepubescent girl at a One Direction concert. So, in having watched countless hours of River Monsters with Jeremy Wade, during his many trips to South America, it would seem that the moral is, "Don't EVER fucking go into the fucking water when you're in fucking South FUCKING America, because things in there will fucking kill the FUCK out of you and / or fucking eat the fuck out of you. A LOT." That is all. You're welcome.

Car rides.......

I hate being stuck in a car for onger than about 30 minute. After that, I tend to get a little fidgety and cranky. Hitting a snag in the road makes me even MORE so. Never a good time.

So, we ended up stuck in traffic on I-95. The kids and I were in the car, with  the windows down all the way. What else is a mom to do? So, we blast some tunes on the stereo and have a sing along. I am talking karaoke staples as well as some beloved tunes from my misspent youth. Winning moment? When the carful of dudes next to us started belting out Skid Row lyrics with us as we crept along in traffic! YAAAAAAAS!!!!!!!!!

The Mighty Vanquisher......

So, I mashed a fly that was on the wall with an empty wrapping paper tube.The fly ended up falling in the gap between the side table and wall. So, I triumphantly brandished the cardboard tube over my head like a sword and roared down a mighty, "THIS IS SPARTAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!" at the fly, laying dead, all squished and twitchy in the abyss. 
Yeah. That just happened. I am The Mighty Vanquisher of Bugs. All hail.


Yes, I know I am only an absolute legend in my own mind, but it's just who I am. I am planning on making a crown covered in the wings, antennae, and legs of all my vanquished foes. I shall be known in their circles as the Slayer of Musca domestica and I shall be worshipped like a GOD! 

Yes, I'm like "this" all the time. 

A passionate love letter....

It's that time of year again.... I will be faced with so many of "them".... I will be forcibly taken by at least one.... Yeah, I can see it now.

Dearest Mia,
I shall take you to bed and have my way with you. I will make you ache, shake and sweat until you moan and groan. I will make you beg me to stop and when I am finished, you will be weak for days!
Sincerely,
The illness you got that one of the kids brought home from school.... :s

My mom.....

Just to give you yet another glimpse into the day in the life.... I mean, what would life be like without one of my parents harassing me one way or another...... I present an actual conversation that has taken place between my mother and myself:

My mom: Your socks don't match!
Me: What are you talking about?
My mom: LOOK AT THEM! 
Me: Yeah..... So?
My mom: One's green and pink, the other is white with pink polka dots! They don't match!
Me: Mom.... I have A SOCK on EACH FOOT. THAT means they match.
My mom: ....... I am wholly convinced that we would have been better off if we had left you under the rock where we found you...
Me: Thanks mom.

Pressure testing

The concept of "pressure testing"....... Let me address this. There are those of you who may or may not have experienced the receiving end of what would be considered a violent attack. No judgment. There are those of you who may or may not have been involved on training that was "hard core" and it may have ended in bruises and lumps, and scratches and other injuries that you may or may not have bragged about the next day as "training injuries" ..... TRAINING injuries. The thing that is usually lacking is during training is INTENT. Intent makes all the difference in the world. And true "pressure testing" can only come from the actual defense against intent. I have met people whose training I respect to some extent, that has resulted in injuries.... Long term injuries. Scars, bruises, ego, and questions about their training..... Did I mention EGO???!?!? Yes.... Ego. A person's ego comes to defend a defensive method/ concept that they believe works. YAY! But under pressure, does it really work? I thought I had something that worked at one point in my life.

I thought I had an effective method of self defense. TKD. Fancy and pretty....... In theory? Hollywood quality moves. Reality? Sure, I managed to "disengage" from my attacker, but what I got in return? Punched in the mouth. And in the face. And in the gut. And again in the face. And then? I was raped. Savagely. I was a teenager, thanks for asking.

Why am I so aggressively attacking those who put up videos of things that they believe work so well against attacks? Think about this. I am a woman, standing 5'2", weighing in at a whopping 97 lbs. FEAR ME!!!!!!!!!! Yeah........ no. Sure, there are those of you who can probably make half of those cool looking things work for you (and by "half" I'm being generous. VERY generous....... ). But the reality? Can you tell me that intent doesn't make all the difference in the world? If you say "no" you're an idiot. No offense, but get over yourselves. If you refuse to actually "pressure test" your shit, I don't want to know. "Intent" is difficult to express when "training", I get that. But don't try and tell me that if "attacked by XY, and you should defend with AB" because I will shut your shit down. Anything that is dictated or choreographed does not show reality. And it is NEVER that pretty or well rehearsed or fluid. EVER.

So I had Puppy Guts "pressure test"certain of these concepts that we have come across in our news feed on the FaceBooks. Every time I tried, I failed. Hard. Don't get me wrong. I would have hurt him bad if he didn't go as hard as he could have without permanently injuring me. If he had gone harder, I may or may not have been writing this from hospital. All good. Thank BACON I can trust him to go full power, full speed, "with intent" in order to pressure test some of these things. I would not be able to do these things with anyone other than my bestie.

I'm not trying to be an absolute kunt ( yes.. spelled with a K ) by shutting down these "concepts" or "techniques" that people LOVE to show off, but if it doesn't work for someone my size, to someone three times my size, weight, and "training class", I don't want to know and I will continue to question all of it. Judge me if you must, but know that I will be judging just as hard, if not harder. WAY harder. Because I WILL be "pressure testing" these things as hard as Rick can go, as hard a I can handle, in order to be able to say, "yeah..... It works...." OR "Nope..... Fuck this shit. It's bullshit!"

Erotic and Kinky...

Erotic is using a feather on your lover, kinky is using the whole chicken..... Erotic is wearing a french tickler, kinky is wearing french toast.... Erotic is "role playing" as a king and his servant, kinky is "role playing" as a duck and a panda... Erotic is genital massage, kinky is whacking each other in the taint with a blackjack... Erotic is using whipped cream, kinky is using hummus... Erotic is using his and her lube, kinky is using 10W-30... Erotic is leaving the lights on, kinky is leaving the webcam on... Erotic is wearing lingerie, kinky is wearing barbed wire and Spam... Erotic is saying, "Please touch me there again...", kinky is saying, "I want you to shove that cheese grater up my ass!"... Erotic is saying to your lover, "You're an animal!", kinky is saying that to an actual goat named Alonzo.... Erotic is light bondage, kinky is a hose for breathing and vacuum sealing your partner to the bed.......

Hey..... Whatever floats your boat.........

An Ad for a Couple of Parents: FREE!

Elderly and used, but still lively, crotchety, cranky, bitchy and will probably live forever. They can go separately or as a pair. I don't really care. Care and maintenance should be minimal as they really only complain about everything, but the reality is that nothing is wrong. They are completely insured and have the AARP something or another and Medicare and a prescription program of sorts. (Might I suggest PROZAC...) They are still quite independent and shuffle around on their own steam and are always very willing to insult, yell, scream, debase, humiliate and cause permanent psychological damage to each other and everyone around them. 
I'd also be willing to throw in a sister, but you'll just have to take my word for it that you got her in the deal as she will never call or write or contact you UNLESS she needs something from you. Don't expect the favor to be returned.

Pick up or delivery. Duct tape available on request!

Dang it! I hafta pee....

I don't get why I forget to go potty before I get into bed.... It takes me forever to get all comfy in the bed. I have to roll around and find the perfect sleeping position, I can't sleep if my feet are cold, but I really don't like wearing socks to bed, so If they're cold, I have to rub them together until they warm up. Then I continue to roll around while kneading my pillow into the perfect shape to match my ultimate comfy sleeping position for that night.

It can take up to half an hour or more sometimes... And just when everything falls in to place and that sweet, warm, fuzzy sensation of sleepy goodness takes over.... Then,  I have to pee. :s

I'm not "funny looking", my face just has a lot of "Character"....

I am a funny looking woman, made even funnier looking because I am about as graceful as a drunken walrus and I fall a lot..... And I generally arrest the rapid deceleration of my decent with my face. It's kind of cool. I sport multiple scars and a crooked nose, and I have a very "special" quality about me. I do. It's okay. I've accepted who and what I was a LONG time ago. It's okay to laugh. I do it quite often myself when I look in the mirror!

So, now that we determined that I am NOT Charlize Theron and have established that I will never be the next cover girl for some outlandishly priced makeup company, I get to my point:

I used to hate that I didn't look like everyone else.... That I didn't have the blond hair and the blue eyes. The fact that I didn't have "white" skin. The fact that at ten paces, no matter what, I could be picked out as a "minority" right away. I mean, that was, like, in first grade.... I pretty much got over that shit pretty early on. I accepted that I was a short, funny looking, flat chested, weirdo with A.D.D, O.C.D., and a tome full of quirks that can't be figured out by any mere mortal. I am okay with that too. I look the same as I did when I was in the sixth grade. Maybe a bit more muscle tone, gray hairs and the freckle fairy, who wasn't too nice to me in my youth found me again and poofed my face with a bunch more, but whatever. It's all good. I have a man who clearly loves me for everything that I am, because of who I am. It's kind of an awesome feeling. :)

Medication....

We live in a society that is so quick to medicate these days. It's actually quite disturbing. What scares me even more still is the fact that people are so easily swayed into medication and they rely on the fact that there will be a medication for any kind of ailment and then rely on that medication to make them all better instead of trying to get at the root of the problem....

I've been told that I am "suffering" from so many things that I should be medicated for. A.D.D., O.C.D., insomnia, chronic migraines.... I've turned down the prescriptions and I'm not sure (other than the migraine thing) I don't necessarily see it as "suffering". I mean the short attention span and the ultra spaz-ness and the hyper sensitivity over certain things and sometimes obsessive nature and my compulsive moments and the lack of sleep all kind of shape the person that I am. If I were to take away some of these things, I kind of doubt that I would be the same person. I think that I would lose all the "me" about me. All of my quirks and charm come from these "ailments" and I just don't know if I would be able to deal with such a drastic change in the core of who I am. I quite like who I am.

There is a medication for everything now a days. There is some chemical concoction for all manner of ailments and sicknesses. And there's always something "new and improved" on the market all the time, which is really just a slight change in the original formula, which they then rename and sell at an even higher premium... But what does that really accomplish?

I get that there are times when medications will help. I am not poo poo-ing all medicines. Certain types of medications for a wide variety of things that our bodies were just not able to cope with or fight off. Certain conditions that just aren't manageable without some kind of chemical intervention. I get it. But I highly doubt that we need ALL of the different types of medicines that we have out there, especially for the things that our bodies were designed to fight off to begin with. As a species, we are designed to become stronger with every sickness we endure. By overmedicating ourselves, we are actually weakening our immune systems because our bodies don't know how to react and deal with whatever is ailing us without help from an unnatural source outside our bodies. Kind of defeats the purpose of "getting better" if you ask me.

I try to stay away from the "medications" as much as I can. Aspirins and cold remedies and antibiotics and prescription this and prescription that and over the counter crap and all that stuff, unless I really need it and I don't have a choice. It kind of freaks me out a little. I just don't like the idea of filling myself up with all that stuff to take care of the things that are ailing me. It's kind of weird that there's a chemical or whatever that goes around and "fixes" shit. I mean I imagine some epic battle between the evil <whatever is ailing me bug> and my inside fixer stuff that naturally does what it's supposed to. Then, all of a sudden some unknown something name CHEMICAL X comes in and tornadoes around Hulk smashing everything and not knowing the difference between the good guys and the bad guys and slowly killing me from the inside because I took some medication that was supposed to help me, but it kind of doesn't too and.....

I need to lay off the caffeine and get myself a cup of camomile tea.... I forgot what I was talking about. Never mind.

Making Funny Faces....

I like to amuse myself sometimes by making really goofy faces and taking pictures of myself. I don't know when I started doing it, but it's a thing. I've been doing it for quite some time now. Yes, it's kind of dorky and stuff, but I already knew that about myself and I think it's entertaining and fun and also helps to bring levity and happiness into my day.

I think it's also important to be able to not take yourself so seriously and be able to laugh at yourself from time to time. I mean for real AND on purpose. A lot of people really do take themselves WAY too seriously and they really have no reason to because they really aren't as awesome as they think themselves to be. There really isn't a good fucking reason why we have to be so uptight and serious all the time. I think taking oneself too seriously leads to unhappiness and high blood pressure and heart attacks and shit like that. And quite honestly? Who doesn't feel better after a a good laugh? Another point is, I really truly believe that it's hard to take a person who's too serious about themselves, seriously.

Making funny faces in the mirror and laughing like an idiot can cure a person of that a little. You can't really take yourself too seriously when you're making a face that makes you look like an Ewok on crack or a squinty eyed Miss Piggy. How can you not crack a little smile when you're sitting there with your tongue hanging out, your nose turned up like a pug and your eyes crossed? Everyone could use a little levity in their lives. Making faces at yourself is a great way to do it, and no. And, regardless of what your mom told you when you were growing up, it's not gonna stay that way. I promise.

9/11....

On this day, 13 years ago, and it started out as a normal day, didn't it? I mean, what normal everyday American citizen would have thought that one of the biggest tragedies to happen on American soil was going to happen on that day? Who could have imagined that an that on September 11th, of 2001, a series of coordinated terrorist attacks, launched by the islamic terrorist group al qaeda (whom no one had really heard of until afterwards), upon our great United States in New York and the Washington, D.C. metropolitan area. These attacks killed nearly 3,000 people and cause at least $10 BILLION in property and infrastructure damage? What? Who would have thought, am I right? 

But it did when four passenger airliners were hijacked by 19 al qaeda terrorists, so that they could be flown into buildings in a series of "suicide attacks". Two of those planes, American Airlines, flight 11 and United Airlines, flight 175, were crashed into the North and South towers, respectively, of the World Trade Center complex in New York City. Within two hours, both towers collapsed, with debris and resulting fires caused partial or complete collapse of all other buildings in the WTC complex, as well as causing significant damage to ten other large surrounding structures. 

A third plane, American Airlines Flight 77, was crashed into the Pentagon (the headquarters of the United States Department of Defense), leading to a partial collapse in its western side. The fourth plane, United Airlines Flight 93, was targeted at Washington, D.C., but crashed into a field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania, after its passengers tried to overcome the hijackers. In total, almost 3,000 people died in the attacks, including the 227 civilians and 19 hijackers aboard the four planes. It also was the deadliest incident for firefighters and for law enforcement officers in the history of the United States, with 343 and 72 killed respectively.

The attacks resulted in the deaths of 2,996 people, including the 19 hijackers and 2,977 victims. The victims included 246 on the four planes (from which there were no survivors), 2,606 in New York City in the towers and on the ground, and 125 at the Pentagon. Nearly all of the victims were civilians; 55 military personnel were among those killed at the Pentagon.

More than 90% of the workers and visitors who died in the towers had been at or above the points of impact. In the North Tower 1,355 people at or above the point of impact were trapped and died of smoke inhalation, fell or jumped from the tower to escape the smoke and flames, or were killed in the building's eventual collapse. The destruction of all three staircases in the tower when Flight 11 hit made it impossible for anyone above the impact zone to escape. 107 people below the point of impact died as well.

In the South Tower, one stairwell (A), was left intact after Flight 175 hit, allowing 14 people located on the floors of impact (including one man who saw the plane coming at him) and four more from the floors above to escape. 911 operators who received calls from individuals inside the tower were not well informed of the situation as it rapidly unfolded and as a result, told callers not to descend the tower on their own. 630 people died in that tower, fewer than half the number killed in the North Tower. Casualties in the South Tower were significantly reduced by some occupants deciding to start evacuating as soon as the North Tower was struck.

Deaths (+ hijackers)

New York City	World Trade Center	2,606
	American 11	87 + 5
	United 175	60 + 5
Arlington	Pentagon	125
	American 77	59 + 5
Near Shanksville	United 93	40 + 4
Total		2,977 + 19

At least 200 people fell or jumped to their deaths from the burning towers (as exemplified in the photograph The Falling Man), landing on the streets and rooftops of adjacent buildings hundreds of feet below. Some occupants of each tower above the point of impact made their way toward the roof in hope of helicopter rescue, but the roof access doors were locked. No plan existed for helicopter rescues, and the combination of roof equipment and thick smoke and intense heat prevented helicopters from approaching. A total of 411 emergency workers died as they tried to rescue people and fight fires. The New York City Fire Department (FDNY) lost 340 firefighters, a chaplain, and two paramedics.The New York City Police Department (NYPD) lost 23 officers. The Port Authority Police Department lost 37 officers. Eight emergency medical technicians (EMTs) and paramedics from private emergency medical services units were killed.

Weeks after the attack, the death toll was estimated to be over 6,000, more than twice the number of deaths eventually confirmed. The city was only able to identify remains for about 1,600 of the World Trade Center victims. The medical examiner's office collected "about 10,000 unidentified bone and tissue fragments that cannot be matched to the list of the dead". Bone fragments were still being found in 2006 by workers who were preparing to demolish the damaged Deutsche Bank Building. In 2010, a team of anthropologists and archaeologists searched for human remains and personal items at the Fresh Kills Landfill, where seventy-two more human remains were recovered, bringing the total found to 1,845. DNA profiling continues in an attempt to identify additional victims. The remains are being held in storage in Memorial Park, outside the New York City Medical Examiner’s facilities. It is expected that the remains will be moved in 2013 to a repository behind a wall at the 9/11 museum. In July 2011, a team of scientists at the Office of Chief Medical Examiner was still trying to identify remains, in the hope that improved technology will allow them to identify other victims. On September 16, 2013, the 1,638th victim was identified. There are still 1,115 victims that have not been identified.

So here we are again, it's that time of the year. Thirteen years later, and I still cry. I am still haunted by the images I saw on the news. I am still fearful that it's going to happen again. Sure, at this point, I could go on some rant about certain of religious groups who's people need to be more closely monitored and we should be wary of. Yes, I could reel into a hate filled speech about how soft our country's underbelly has gotten because of the useless and spineless douchebags who hold office in certain elected positions. But not today. Today, I pray for the fallen. I pray for the innocent victims of an atrocious terrorist attack, perpetrated by cowards, the lowest form of life. I pray for those who lost a loved one. I pray for our great nation, in the hopes that we may never see tragedy like this ever again. I also pray that I will be well equipped and ready to fight back and protect my family when it does. 

Oops! Boom!

In trying to get my kids NOT to be crybaby sissy pansies, I instituted the "Oops! Boom!" every time they fell. I wanted to make sure that they weren't going to cry and wail EVERY time they fell regardless of whether or not they hurt themselves. Heck, even when they did kind of hurt themselves... It doesn't make the situation better when the child is losing their mind because they scraped their knee. No need for the fucking drama. It's stupid.

In keeping with that though, as the mama, I have to set the example and at least practice what I preach. The thing of it is, as I discovered, is that "little kid falling down" and "adult falling down" are two VERY different things. It's not the same kind of "injury" because as an adult, I no longer have those rubber bones and unlike a kid, these boo boos stayed injured for a lot longer than the five minutes it takes for a kid to get over injuries.... Kids are a lot more resilient then adults are. It's not to say that kids don't feel the ouch and because of their lack of life experience, a little ouch can be a pretty big ouch. As an adult, yeah, it sucks to get injured, but likely, you aren't going to cry about it and scream for a bandaid while sucking your thumb and hugging onto a Mr. Cuddlebunny or something. But the fall down ouchies....

I once watched my daughter take a tumble down three steps. It scared the ever loving crap out of her, it scared the ever loving crap out of me, it shortened my life expectancy by about three years and I think I may have soiled myself a little. My daughter got up right away, wide eyed and freaked out, but none the worse for wear. I yelled out, "Oops! Boom! You're okay!" Gave her a once over and a hug. She had a small moment, but five minutes later, she was running around and laughing and playing like nothing ever happened. The incident was forgotten.

I took a tumble down those same three steps, much in the same fashion. I was in pain for a week and I almost wanted to cry about it. Of course, because my daughter was watching, I had to jump up like I was totally okay and smile, even though I wanted to cry a little, and act like everything was fine as I yelled out, "Oops! Boom!" My daughter laughed and I joined her (although, it probably almost sounded like I was crying...) and to her, the incident was forgotten. I don't think I've ever taken so much ibuprofen and Aleve.....

I know what needs to be done. We're having those three steps removed. Fuck it....

Money....

Money doesn't really buy happiness. I mean it buys bacon and that's pretty fuckin' close, but, really? Sure. Most of us could probably use a little more and I suppose knowing that you're going to be able to make the payments on all your bills  instead of having to creatively finance everything at the last minute might be nice, and maybe being able to buy stuff just because you want it might be cool, but beyond that?

I've never understood the super rich or those who wanna be part of that super rich club. You know the type. They have the "I'm better than you because I have money or at least I'm gonna make a grand attempt at pretending I do" attitudes. The "look at me and look what I have/ look what I got" show offs that annoy the bejesus out of the people around them. They always have something to prove, always have something to show, always think that because they have the best (in their own opinion) and because they spent a whole shitload of money on it, it's awesome and everyone should care. What kind of miserable lives do they have that they have to fill up voids by buying loads and loads of crap? Spending whole bunches of money on useless shit just to say they have it? They crave the attention so badly because of some sorry need for something? It's disgusting. I have my theory on that though. It's a need for attention in a lot of cases. They aren't really exceptional in any other way, so having "stuff" to show off gives them the attention they crave. It's a void filling something. It's unfortunate because it's nothing of "substance" so it really does nothing except put a bandaid on an open and festering wound. Does no amount of good... They remain unexceptional and craving fleeting attentions from people who really can't care less.... yippee...

Moving on now, so what does it really prove to those of us that are struggling for money or who are worse off? Well, other than the fact that you're a douchewad... There are those  and I have run across SO many who feel the need to have this attention whether it's positive or negative. I got called a "jealous cunt" for having made an offhanded comment about the douchebaggery of these types of actions. "You're just jealous because you'd never be able to get a <some WAY overpriced, pretentious item of non worth that was likely manufactured in China by children in sweat shops whose technology will be outdated in a month anyway or will be out of style faster than Snookie getting drunk at a bar>!" Then, my priorities were brought into question. Seriously? My priorities are fucked up? Whatever! That is NOT the way I want to live my life and certainly not what I want my kids to grow up and think is okay.

We live in a disposable society where everything is throw away. Nobody appreciates anything. Nobody holds anything dear. People don't work for or work at anything. They simply throw it out and get another or replace it with something else. And teaching our children that this is okay is supposed to build the foundations for them to be good people how? It doesn't. At all.... What this all shows is that no effort is required, EVER, nor any hard work.... and that nothing is ever really worth anything because something else will come along. No saving, no effort, no work involved. Instant gratification. Not exactly the way I want my children to see the world and what life is like. They'd end up destined for failure. They'd end up with a whole lot of nothing but misery and have nothing to show for it.

Sure it'd be easier to shut them up by giving in to their every whim and giving them everything that they want. Duh! I am on a very limited budget, but Puppy Guts and I do what we can for all six of our combined children and give them the things that we'd like to give them and of course, we make sure that the kids all see the process of us saving up for it as well. They get to see that there was work involved, it helps them to anticipate the excitement and shows them that hard work pays off and makes them appreciate the things they get more then if it was just handed to them. Those are the things that serve up as lifelong memories than not because of that involvement, the anticipation, the excitement, and that the hard work was worth the effort. We both think that playing "the hero" and giving them everything that they want now, although may pay off now, we are looking ahead to the future, the long term and thinking about the children. We are doing our best to build the proper foundations of how to be a functioning person in society who knows the value of a dollar and isn't afraid to put in the effort. We are helping to build the stable footholds for them to be able to climb higher and achieve more. We refuse to sacrifice them along with the rest of this new generation of sheep and zombies.

Money has its place. Absolutely. It's obviously something that is necessary. It really is a necessary evil. What Puppy Guts and I are doing is to show our children that money isn't everything and that it isn't the end all, be all of life. Money and material crap shouldn't be what they revolve their lives around like so many people I see around me. I want them to see that there is more out there. I want them to appreciate all the things that they have instead of lamenting the things that they don't. I would much rather see them be their own individuals than like the sheep they are surrounded by. We are doing our best to wake them up and show them what life is REALLY about.

Life Lessons....

It wasn't this guy. Ours was a little younger and had the bluest
eyes you could imagine...... 

My youngest and I went to the grocery store some time ago and while walking through the parking lot, she suddenly stopped and looked off into the corner of the lot by the stairs leading up to the upper level where there are other stores. I looked down at her and asked, "What's up?" thinking she had spotted an animal in need of rescue or a random shiny thing or a rock or something that needed a friend. Don't you DARE judge her.

She turned to look up at me and said, "Why does that man look so sad?" So, I looked to where she was pointing. No one there....

Creeped out, I asked, "..... What man?"

She looked over again and said, "The man at the stairs...."

I'm looking, but I see no one there. So, in situations like these, because I'm so calm, cool and collected, and handle situations like these with grace and style, I started freaking the fuck out and sweating and kind of wanting to scream and run away, thinking that my daughter is seeing ghosts, like that creepy looking kid in that movie where he's all like, "I see dead people....." Shut up. Don't judge me.

So, I turned to my daughter, and asked again, in a slightly more desperate tone, "WHAT MAN??!?!?!!?!?"

She's looking at me like I'd lost my mind and soiled my pants. I think I may have done a little of both, but I will not confirm or deny having done either. And she then rolled her eyes and sighed loudly and started dragging me over to where the stairs were. Being the ever so level headed individual that I am, I started running through all the haunting movie scenarios and creepy, scary stuff that happens in nightmares and started nope, nope, nope-ing as I tried to drag her back the other way, ready to run for it, dragging her with me, as I fired rounds over my shoulder. Don't judge me!

She was insistent and started pulling me back. And then I looked back over towards those stairs and I saw a flash of movement. I think at this point, I DID soil myself and internally started to pray to every god, saint and holy deity I could remember to save us from some evil spirit that would haunt us for eternity. You know, because I am such the logical thinker and not a weirdo with a wild imagination and stuff...... Shut up. Don't judge me I said!!!

Then I saw his face as he leaned forward from where he sat a little. Old and haggard. Tired and worn. Eyes like windows, looking right down into his sad, sad soul. Then I felt like an asshole for wanting to run away and I started to approach him. Slowly and cautiously, but I did. I mean, don't get me wrong. Stranger danger and all.... Here I am, a small framed woman, in a parking lot, dragging around my 6 year old, and I've run across a stranger. Yes, my radar was up and I was ready to do whatever I needed to do in order to ensure mine and my daughter's safety. Duh. Don't judge me!!

So, I called out to him. "Hey, guy.... You okay?"

His voice sounded exhausted, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Down on his luck...... It wasn't always like this.... "I used to have a job and a home...... Now he was just doing whatever he could just to eat and get by....." He went around collecting cans and bottles for the 5 cent return on each. On that day, he managed to rake in a whopping $3.25. It's a story you've heard a thousand times, but yet, each one remains unique from every individual you hear it from. He sounded dejected and ashamed. I know. You're thinking, "Don't they all..... SUCKER!" Whatever. Stop judging me.

I told him to give me ten minutes and I went inside the store. I grabbed wipes, bread, PB and jelly, plastic utensils, paper plates, napkins, water, crackers, cookies, nuts and granola bars. Things I thought would keep for a couple of days so that he can actually go through it and have something for the next few days. I went back outside and handed him the bags of groceries and stuff and the six pack of clean water. He was so grateful and wouldn't stop thanking me. I also handed him a twenty and told him to make sure that went towards food. He promised it would. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. You shouldn't hand a homeless guy cash because he might use it on booze and drugs.... Shut up. Don't judge me.....

Some woman, who watched this exchange, went into self righteous lecture mode, telling me that I'm not making things better for the man by enabling his behaviors. That he put himself in that position. It was his own fault he was homeless, hungry and miserable. Blah, blah, blah..... The poor guy was about to say something, but I'd already had enough of this woman. I put up my hand to stop him and gave him the, "You do NOT have to explain yourself to this cunt, I got this...." look. Don't fucking judge me!

So, I turned to her and spoke exactly what was on my mind. Well, apparently, "Jesus lady! Who kicked sand into your vagina this morning?" wasn't the response she was looking for. I went on to explain to her that it was MY money that I was giving, MY time I was sparing and MY business what I did with both, not hers. The woman walked away in a huff, mumbling something about "those kind of people" and what  rude bitch I was..... Whatever. Stop judging me!!!!!!

My daughter witnessed all of it with a tear in her eye. She crouched down close to him feeling visibly terrible for the man without a home. The man looked quietly at me and asked if he could address my daughter directly. What he said nearly shattered my heart. He said something along the lines of:

"Don't you cry for me little one. I do want to thank you though for noticing me here today. It's not often that people do. I was feeling quite low. I know I must look a shambles and it might be a little scary, but underneath all of this, I am just a man. A very sad man. I came home after fighting in a war overseas and I saw a lot of things I wish I hadn't. I thought coming home would be wonderful. But I had lost my house, I had lost my family, I had lost everything. Now I come here to sit and think about what I'm going to do with myself from here on out. Then you came with this here generous gift you and your mother gave me, I have a few less worries and I can't thank you enough. God bless you both..... God, bless you both"

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I mean, I don't think I knew how to respond to that and I don't think most of the information that was disseminated to my daughter fully computed in her mind. But it didn't stop her from giving the guy a nice long hug and a kiss on the cheek.  It brought the man to tears. He assured us that they were happy tears, but none the less.... he went on to say:

"Not too many people notice me sittin' here, none the less take the time to talk to me. They're either afraid or they just don't seem to care about this old blight sitting out here...... Why did you?"

I'll be honest, I stumbled with the answer. I mean, considering that my first reaction was to run away and all..... "You're just a guy who fell on some pretty hard times. Sometimes just one person can make a difference..... I don't think I'm that one, but I sure do wish you all the best and hope we were able to bring you a little comfort.... I wanted to help."

"You also brought me hope young lady..... Well, you generously gave me more than I could have asked for today, but you two also gave me hope too."

I felt bad that I couldn't do more for the guy, but we did have to go back about our business and he had to go back about his, as security would be asking him to leave shortly. I wished him well and shook his hand and we went our separate ways. I haven't seen him since..

There's a life lesson in there somewhere. Hell if I can pinpoint it and put my finger on it.... Maybe it's just that we sometimes have to let down our guards and not judge EVERYONE that we come across. There are times when there are just people who need a friendly smile and a small interaction and some kindness because they haven't gotten any. I am in NO WAY a people person, but I find it very hard to turn my back on someone who obviously needs a little help. This guy was that person on that day. My daughter also witnessed an act of kindness that may stick with her for the rest of her life.

I think that there are those of us who think we have it bad, Sure, we struggle through life and we wish we had a little bit more, but when a different reality gets slammed into your face like that, you can't wonder how bad it really could be for you in that moment, and it really made me think. I need to be a little more grateful for the things that i HAVE been blessed with tin this life. This was probably a reality check that I needed bestowed upon me by some greater power or whatever, that Rick seems to think it's all about. But it happened and I played my part in it. And I walked away feeling okay. Yeah, sure, I'm going to be a little short this month and I may have to push a bill back a little in order to make up for this foray, but it did me good. NOW go ahead and judge me.
 What it boils down to is, as a person, what is it that we are willing to give to those around us? I've done a couple of things that have brought me an "atta girl!" moment from time to time, and I meant them all. I'd like to think this was one of them. I hope guy ate and found a little comfort in knowing that all people aren't assholes. And if this little bit makes me an asshole, well, then. I'm an asshole. It just felt like the right thing to do.
The end.

Ideal....

I'm not really into fashion, and other than a very few handful of people, (Kate Beckinsale, Milla Jovovich, Charlize Theron... Amiright?) I'm all "meh" about these impossible ideas about what perfection and beauty are. I mean, other than the fact that there is really no such thing as perfect... Seriously, one person's ideas about what perfection is, are different from another's and at what point does one determine what is and what isn't the ideal? How does one really make that determination at all? Alright, you have some baselines about what is pleasing and attractive. Clear skin, not looking like a hot mess, not all obese with flab flaps hanging out all over the place.... whatever. But beyond just the superficial whatever and stuff. How is one supposed to define "ideal" when it's really comes down to opinion? For example: Angelina Jolie. Some people she is the hottest thing since the discovery of ghost peppers. I think she's creepy looking on a good day. I find nothing attractive about her. Like, "Ew! Get it away....." But see? that would be a prime example.

On the other side of that, perfection, and I mean, a perfection that is something that anyone with all of their own opinions, would look at and be like, "Wow...." would be creepy, wouldn't it? What do you do with that. We are all different and I think it's the quirks and imperfections that bring a certain charm to people's looks. It's the freckle on your lover's shoulder that you've named Miles. It's that scar on your sweetheart's back that you can't help but run your finger over just because. That stray hair that you've affectionately dubbed Stanley, just because. The sweet crooked smile that you long to see after a few hours of not seeing them. Something that someone else might consider to be less than ideal, but in your world, it's perfect.

Our young people are constantly being bombarded by what "ideal" and "perfect" is supposed to be with ads all over the place, that show impossibly proportioned models who have been airbrushed into almost non-human looking beings and it is just not healthy for the kids' self images. I am really not sure when it became a serious thing where, in stead of striving for health, fitness and being comfortable in one's skin started coming second to this growing trend, but it saddens me.

At this point, I would like to believe that, with my parenting and teaching my children that they should be great with who they are, that my kids will grow up confident in their looks and their self perceptions enough that "the trends" won't matter to them. They are all beautiful individuals with unique looks of their own and I hope they will never kowtow to these trends and try to look like what they see around them and become lost among the sheep. I would much rather them stand out for who they are because they ARE comfortable with who they are. I want them to grow up to be individualistic and free thinkers who can think outside the box and can form trends of their own. Individuals who aren't afraid to go against the grain to be themselves and be happy with who they are, instead of being thrust into the world with the idea that they are expected to be something else.

Among the many fears I have for my kids, other than all the violence and tragedies that seem to plague our world today, and the easy access to roads that would lead them down a slippery path to certain dangers, one of my fears for my kids as a parent is that they will become part of the flock........

Clever is NOT the word I'd use.....

I come across people who think themselves to be rather clever, but the reality is, they fall quite short of clever. You know them. They're the people who show up somewhere and everybody rolls their eyes. They are the ones who quote the same movie lines over and over and over and over, they laugh at their own jokes a little too much and a little too hard, they are self important and try to prove how cool they are, no one really knows why they hang out with these people or how they came to be a part of the "crew", and nobody really wants them around.

They think they know everything and even when confronted, they continue to talk out of their asses, even when they're PROVEN wrong, they will continue to try and support (life support....) their arguments even though no one is listening any more. They repeat their same point over and over again, trying to convince others and themselves how right they are, and the only way to get them to shut the fuck up is to agree with them, turning them into an even BIGGER pompous ass. They throw temper tantrums when they don't get their way, and drama ALWAYS seems to follow them around. They are the gray skies on what would otherwise be a bright, happy, sunshine-y day.

They always feel like they have to prove their worth by bragging about things that they don't have, can't do, haven't really accomplished. They try to be witty and clever by spewing out someone else's ideas or something that they heard somewhere, VERBATIM, and try to pass it off as their own even though everyone knows it wasn't. They are the ones who are basically having a conversation with themselves because they don't listen to what someone else is saying because they've already thought about what they're going to say next and that's all they're thinking about. Not processing or hearing the other side of the conversation at all.

I once thought that they should all get together and hang out with each other, but then I thought, "You know what? The universe might implode or something because I don't think having all that ass hattery in one place is a good thing...." That's probably the reason why they are dispersed the way they are. Damn....

Ouch....

I love to laugh. It's, like, a hobby of mine. I snort when I laugh and laugh so hard I cry and I hurt for days afterwards sometimes. In having laughed like this, there have been times when I snarfed more than just milk.... Most of these things happen just because it's me. I mean, I once damn near choked on a bug that flew into my throat... Or there was this time I had a bug fly right into my EYE... I once inhaled a gnat by accident.... These incidents caused the people around me to start laughing uncontrollably because it seemed, they found great amusement in my discomfort.... Who am I kidding? If I had witnessed any of those events, I'd have been howling and laughing and rolling around holding my sides too... And if I had a drink or something in my mouth at the time it happened? I would snarf it. Some things snarfed suck worse than others. Trust me. Today, we are going to explore these, shall we?

Listerine: Might I suggest that you NEVER accidentally snarf this substance.... It burns like all get out and you have that "minty fresh feeling" in your nostrils like ALL DAY! Kinda hard not to laugh though when, while you are freshening your breath, you see out the corner of your eye, the dog trying to get a drink from the toilet and he slips and falls in, scares himself stupid and goes running away howling, leaving a pee trail all along the way.

ANY kind of hot sauce on anything: Another REALLY unpleasant thing to snarf. Solid chunks of food snarfed is not pleasant. Couple with that a hot sauce? Brutal. But when, on taco night, you have someone at the table who plays you a whole concertina with bodily noises: buuurp-fart faaaaaaart-burp burp buuurp- fart faaaaaart burp faaaaart... and ends with something that sounded a little squishy at the end there as the composer goes running off to the bathroom, you might not be able to hold back.

ANY kind of carbonated beverage: It makes you feel like your head is going to explode from all the bubbles. It's a party time kind of drink and seriously, who hasn't witnessed something really stupid or whatever and hasn't snarfed soda?

Doritos: Those sharp corners hurt, especial when you weren't quite done chewing the chip yet.....

Noodles: It's like party streamers blowing in the wind when it happens. 'Nuff said. I don't want to talk about it.

Hot beverages: Not only do you get that unpleasant sensation of the post snarf, but it kind of feels like you burned out your nose hairs....

It's not that snarfing is EVER a pleasant sensation (it really isn't...) and quite honestly? I have accidentally snarfed my fair share of things from laughing too hard when I had something in my mouth, but there certainly IS a scale to rate the unpleasantness of things snarfed... How weird does the word "snarf" sound to you right now?

MoooooooooM! Quit it!

The teen has friends over quite regularly, which is fine. The friends he has are nice enough and are polite, mind their manners and don't destroy the house and run around like hyperactive, rabid, insane giant weasels on crack. It's MINE that sometimes gets a little too big for his britches and I have to pull the step stool out from under him just to put him back in his place. If he wants to throw around attitude, I am going to throw him more embarrassment than he knows what to do with.
The other day, he got all pissy teen on me. Fine. I gave him the warning look and he responded with an eye roll... Fine again.
When he went upstairs to get something, I called up to him, "Hey, did you remember to wipe your butt when you went poopies? The last time, you forgot and you were itchy on your bottom for a week!"
"MOOOOOoooooommmm! QUIT IT!!!!" But the damage was done. The look on his face was priceless. The snickers coming from the kitchen was icing on the cake. Balance was restored. Little by little. I will break this pissy teen broody, whiny baby, sass thing that he has happening...

Constructive Criticism.....

Living with my parents is no walk in the park. Pop is an old and ornery old coot and senility makes him even more of an angry and verbally abusive old shit. Mom has a laundry list of issues as well which has turned her into a very unhappy, miserable, bitter bitch with a martyr complex. SHe's seriously bat shit crazy. All in all, a GREAT combination for people who should be nominated for  parents of the year! :eye roll:

Criticism was never constructive. It was actually the opposite of that. Like, nuclear holocaust type destructive. And what flickers of pride, dignity, hope,  or sense of accomplishment that was left (if there was any) was stamped out, all in the hopes of making me a better and stronger person. To make me an over-achiever. To strive to be better... Yeah. I don't really get it either.... Nothing was ever good, nothing was ever done right, nothing was ever positive. It was all crap.

The funny thing about it all is that I know they thought it was wrong because when asked about how they raised me, they either avoid the question all together (especially when I'm around, although I DO start laughing hysterically) or say something to the effect of "With love and support..." which gets me laughing even harder. I know that they are embarrassed at the way they raised me and I point it out to them all the time. With love and support? Oh, REALLY! I have a laundry list of how it wasn't. Was my life with them ALWAYS awful? No. Especially when we were all out in public. It was happy and sweet and "perfect". I question it all now and whether it was just one of those "facade" things because we were out in public.

Sure, I have a few happy memories with my family, but they were oftentimes also followed up with some  really NOT happy times, which makes them not so happy in the end I guess... Take for example graduation. They were there and yay, happy great. We took pictures with the family and we're all smiling and whatnot. We went out to dinner and great. Then I get told, "Well, we didn't think you were gonna graduate at all. You're not the smart one of the family and quite honestly, you didn't do THAT well..." Gee, thanks... I mean any kind of "accomplishment" was greeted with that kind of shit.

And if I did something wrong or I failed or something didn't go right? HOLY SMOKES! The ridicule and absolute humiliation that I was made to suffer, even for years afterwards would have driven a lesser person to suicide or at the very least a clocktower with a scoped out rifle and a whole shitload of ammo....   I like to point out this fact to them all the time when they try to give me "suggestions and pointers" as I raise my own children or try to step in and open their mouths. Ain't happening. And my parents are verbally slapped back into line and told to shut up.

On the one hand, it sucked to be here growing up. (I seriously AM still trying to sell my parents because I really don't want them. Any takers are welcome to contact me through any of the channels listed here on this blog!) And it's unfortunate that my circumstances and finances force me to have to stay here for now. On the other hand, it did teach me exactly how I DIDN'T want to raise my kids and how exactly NOT to do it. It gave me a lot of useful tools in the parenting toolbox of how NOT to treat my children. Just trying to make a positive out of a negative here. It's this new thing I'm trying.....

Raising Mini Me.....

I try hard to be a role model for my daughter in the hopes that she grows up to be like me, save for the bad habits I have and crap like that. I hope she can become a strong, tough, reliable, unique, pioneering, dependable, responsible, independent woman who believes in her dreams and doesn't allow someone to tell her who and what she is. I hope that she doesn't make the same mistakes in life that I did.  I hope she becomes someone who gets shit done well and completely in everything that she has to, wants to, decides to do. I know.... What person doesn't want that for their child. I want that for all my children. (Well, not the "woman" part considering the other three are boys...) I will do my best to curb the crappy behaviors and habits that she picks up that sometimes turn my Mini Doom into a whiny, sissy, pansy baby, spoiled brat and I hope these lessons stick.

It's a real shame when some people say they want for these things for their children, but teach them behaviors that may or may not be a step above sloth, and greed, and malice and selfishness, turning their children into spoiled, fat, lazy, mean, miniature versions of themselves. I volunteer at the school for the boys sometimes and I see it in the other kids and I see it even MORE clearly when their parent is there.

There really is no single IDEAL way to raise children. It's never the same because children are SO different from one another and they don't come with a custom instruction manual. You can't apply what you used on one kid exactly like you did on another. I mean sure, there are things that ARE the same: Consistency, patience, understanding and the willingness to want to RAISE your children. Beyond that?

My little Mini Me, being the youngest of four AND the only girl has and will have many challenges in her life being the sister to three older brothers, but so far, she has risen to the challenge. I want to make sure that I keep encouraging her fearlessness and her spunk and her moxie to jump in with her brothers and do whatever it is they're doing because I think it will benefit her later in life. Going "balls out" and not being afraid to go out and DO. Not getting caught up in the "What if I can't..." or the "I'm scared of trying something new..." Grabbing life by the horns and really paving a solid path forward.

In the meantime, I build the foundations for her so that she will be able to grow and be a solid whoever she wants to be. My little Mini Me. My little Mini Doom.... I can't wait to see how well she's going to do... Well, yeah I can. I'd like to keep her my Mini for a while....