If I were Bewitched, I'd Mess with My Old Neighbors and Take Over the World

This week, I'm part of two blog hops, so I'll be spending all day today and tomorrow reading lots of posts while drinking my dragon fruit generic energy drink. This also means I am combining two subjects into one post.

Your “Secret Subject” is:

Halloween’s right around the corner so in that theme you’ve suddenly become a witch (or warlock, your choice), how did that happen and what will you do?

It was submitted by: http://Bakinginatornado.com         

Finish the Sentence Friday Prompt:

When it comes to my neighbors...

You got to be careful with people, especially those who get a closer look at your life. When it comes to my neighbors, I am usually an idiot.

The sad news is, if someone is going to fook you over, it's going to be someone close to you. A friend, coworker or a neighbor. It's usually someone you never provoked, and someone who has no legitimate reason to hate you.  I run into these people all the time, online and offline as I have neighbors in both worlds. 

If I don't like someone, I still like them. I don't like something they did, but I can still like them for the good things they do. My issue is I don't really hate people. I hate evil, and people do evil things all the time, but I refuse to believe when someone is swallowed by the darkness that they become that. 

Hard Core Gangsta Right Here... and shit.

And that gets me in trouble because I always give people the benefit of the doubt. I see the social red flags waving telling me, "Don't trust that person at all," but then I open up anyway with some of my deeper secrets handing them my fears and insecurities on a silver platter to use later as ammunition against me. I do this uncontrollably, without a mute button. And I think I do it because I don't want to be one of them. Once you start passing judgment on people's character, you're more apt to be the asshole I'm talking about because your judgment will haunt you until you hate.

When it comes to neighbors, here's some of the craziest dumbfuckery I've encountered that I'm willing to admit:

1. A cop neighbor put out an APB on all my cats (for running at large) because my sister had a black baby.
2. A neighbor used to sit up all night staring out his window
3. One guy might of raped me. He definitely drugged my drink and bragged about it. He was the nicest of all my neighbors at that place up until that point.
4. One neighbor went around telling everyone I was an undercover FBI agent looking to snitch out pot smokers. I still have no idea why she did that. I have NEVER worked for a law enforcement agency. Ever.
5. One of my friends actually had neighbors commit her because they were being assholes and she threatened to file harassment charges. They were also meth addicts.

Of course, I've also met some really good friends. My mother's neighbor knows all the gossip. If you see cops in front of anyone's house within a 25 block radius of her house, she will tell you the scoop better than the cops. My friend Missy used to come over when we were just neighbors and barely knew each other and have tea with me in the mornings and help with the kids. Irka, a woman who used to live below me, is the only person who can actually get my kids to clean.

So with all that said, if I woke up a witch?

Well I do know witches. I also believe that the occult is a world that most humans, not even the best of witches, fully understand because if they did, they'd realize the most powerful magic comes from within. It comes from Love and inner peace. It comes from God. Curses are real, but those under God's protection are never hurt. Let their be light bitches!

But if I woke up a witch, I'd probably be more like Samantha from Bewitched. And if I felt comfortable using my powers without any spiritual karmatic implications, I'd probably do things like... (respectively to the last list)

1. Turn my cop neighbor's dog into a BLACK cat. Just for a couple days.
2. Fuse the window on a neighbors face so he can look through it all day too.
3. Drug the guy who raped me, and leave him in a cheap motel room pantless with a tattoo on his left butt cheek that says, "Bubba was here."
4. The neighbor who started rumors, I'd turn her stash of pot into green tobacco. She'll smoke it and smoke it but never get high.
5. The neighbors who committed my friend, I'd use my powers to get them all arrested for the illegal activities they actually do, and their moment of getting cuffed would occur where my friend could watch, and a bucket of popcorn would magically appear in her hands for the event.

and things like

1. Float invisibly into the White house and talk to the President about world problems as a ghost. Things would magically happen in Washington to set this country forward. Things you probably wouldn't agree with, but when you have a good job where you can afford to amuse yourself on Facebook without worrying about rent or getting cancer, you won't give a shit how I did it. You wouldn't even know I was there.

2. I'd create an underground secret layer for my plans of world domination.

3. I'd create some sort of terrorist program where we take the international terrorists and brainwash them into being decent people. If it didn't work, I'd turn them into toads to be dissected in science class in an all girl's school so they can finally be with their virgins.

4. Westboro's buildings would all be rainbow, and no matter what they did to change it, it wouldn't change. Like if they painted over it, it would turn back into a rainbow.

5. I'd magically poof myself and the kids all over the world to travel.

6. A starving student trying to learn who enjoys thinking would discover the cure to some major disease, and it would spark a career for them and things would just work out to where it comes to people who need it. This would happen many times for many diseases, from cancer to polio to PTSD to that huge word I can't pronounce.

7. I'd do some sort of corporate takeover of Microsoft and change things to where their products function without troubleshooting.

8. I'd probably take a day to where every time a bank charged a fee, the computer keeps giving it to the customer.

9. Women would be getting hired and promoted in top jobs because the person doing the hiring doesn't want to become a toad with the terrorists. The mothers would get higher salaries than the men just because every culture places the burden of caring for the children solely on their mother. If men want equal pay, they'll start doing equal work, and I mean real work, taking care of the kids and house.

10. My most diabolical scheme ever... I'd clean my house like Mary Poppins. Snap and the bed makes itself. Snap and the clothes fold itself. Snap and the dishes wash themselves. And when I say, "Stop fighting," and the kids don't, I can snap my fingers and instantly pause them for a time out.

READ MORE FINISH THE SENTENCE FRIDAY AT FINDING NINEE

CHECK OUT SECRET SUBJECT SWAP AT THE LINKS BELOW

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts.  Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:

http://www.BakingInATornado.com                          Baking In A Tornado

http://themomisodes.com                                       The Momisodes

http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/                          Spatulas on Parade

http://stacysewsandschools.blogspot.com/                      Stacy Sews and Schools

http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com                   The Bergham's Life Chronicles                                            

http://www.eviljoyspeaks.wordpress.com                       Evil Joy Speaks

http://dinoheromommy.com/                                      Dinosaur Superhero Mommy

http://www.silenceofthemom.blogspot.com                    Silence of the Mom

http://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com                                Climaxed

http://sparklyjenn.blogspot.com/                                  Sparkly Poetic Weirdo

http://www.someoneelsesgenius.com                           Someone Else’s Genius

http://www.crumpetsandbollocks.com                       Crumpets and Bollocks

  http://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/                        Confessions of a part-time working mom
http://www.smalltalkmama.com                            Small Talk Mama

Happy Places I Tend to Visit

You know that movie with Adam Sandler where he keeps imagining his happy place to control his anger? Happy Gilmore? Well as a mom, I find myself needing a happy place so that I may maintain a happy face. You really can't talk to your kids in a pissed off panic state of frustration because that will just make them do the same thing back to you, which then makes it a thousand times worse. So here's some places I go for my happy place, a 10 second break into Wonderland. Feel free to steal any one of these fantasies.



1. I imagine myself diving into a huge pool of water. No land. No edge. And I just swim freely, twisting, flipping, opening my arms out and soaking in the water, floating on top, or sliding through it like a dolphin. Basically the things I do at the swimming pool to adjust to the water's temperature.

2. I imagine Jesus on the Cross, and then he rips his right arm breaking that stem of the cross, and then his left arm doing the same, throws the cross pieces to the floor, and he does this like he's Terry Crews ripping through an Old Spice commercial, and then he walks right up to me and picks me up, sweeping me off my feet like a knight in shining armor, and carries me like a Footprints poem.

3. Spongebob and Jim Morrison dancing to F is the fun stuff we do together U is for you and me...

4. I find pleasure in thinking about what it would be like to be a millionaire who orchestrates giving all the kids at school silly string at the same time just so the school will know what a parent goes through for the first 4 hours after school, not that THAT would give them any empathy because they really just don't give a shit about you, which is why it's so much fun to think about.

5. I like to close my eyes, and think back to that exact moment I was giving birth with my first kid, and I was in so much pain I was turning purple, twitching, spitting out the Fuck word every 3 seconds, biting and sucking on the side of the bed rail... and then enter angels singing Handel's Messiah. The anesthesiologist walks in and gives me an epidural. I try to feel the needle in my spine again. And for a whole millisecond, my body tricks my mind into thinking it's numb from the waist down again. Ahhh good times. Sometimes I rub the spot on my back where it was just for luck.

6. I imagine being 6 years old sitting in a boring Sunday service in the sanctuary falling asleep with my head laying on my dad's tummy fat.

7. I know it's cheesier than anything mentioned thus far, as if that's possible, but I like to imagine that I'm dancing, badly, with either my father or Jesus. I'm always staring at my toes as we attempt to actual dance with spins and twirls and stuff. Sometimes when I'm with Jesus, I start to drop it like it's hot, and then he gives me that stern look and shakes his head no, and I stop and apologize, and then he's like, "this is how you do it," and starts dancing like Usher, in the white robe with sandals....

So now that I told you some of my happy places, what are some of yours? 

Comment below if you like Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain, or if you aren't into yoga, or if you have half a brain...

I've had Enough of This Shit

Life is way too short for...

Life is way too short for shit. Really it is. I know we all have to take a shit regularly, and I mean this metaphorically, but the people we shit on, their life is too short for it. My life is too short for other people's shit. Yet, I find myself spending endless hours trying to clean it up and disinfect enough to still get some ungodly flu as a result, which then makes me shit everywhere. Shit is contagious via shit. All of this is metaphorical for the school personnel who trolls my blog and Facebook, speaking of which, I'm talking about your shit too.

I wish I could tell you all the details of my week spent being shit on by various members of the community, but it would be unprofessional. But I tell you what, when it shits, it pours.

Instead of focusing on the negativity and mocking it like I usually do, I'm going to attempt to go the positive route. I'm just going to preach to you people about basic manners and professionalism and ethics when it comes to taking the metaphorical shit.

1. Don't shit on people

Just because you are having a bad day and need to unload the bull shit doesn't justify shitting it on others, or flinging it to others. If you need to unload your shit, take a dump in a corner like a civilized beast. Find a dark corner of the internet (like your own blog) and unload it there. This is what I do. If I have a bad day, it's a Facebook post, a blog post, or a rant to a friend. I don't ruin their days with it. I just simply unload my feelings with honesty. The point is, I find a place out of a way to take my shit. I don't do it on people, and I try to find places where I don't think anyone is going to step in it.

2. If you are going to shit on someone, shit on an asshole

Seriously, I know it's so tantalizing to shit on someone who is a good person. Nice people are the easiest target. I think people assume that they are stupid enough to forgive their asshattery. But the fact is, if you must shit on a person because you can't hold it in, assholes are used to shit. Shit on them. They deserve it anyway. Never fuck over the person who is helping you in order to hide your true feelings about those you perceive as an enemy. I see it happen all the time. People kiss ass to the assholes in their life, and they shit on those who truly care about them. Then they wonder why they are alone. I probably do this too.

3. People who have their shit together usually don't.

When you see someone with their ducks in a row, just know that the ducks they used to get those ducks in a row are not in a row. Be kind to everyone. Don't assume people are on a horse too high that you must tear them down. If they are on a low horse and you still feel the need to tear them down to your level, you are a pretty sad person. See I just shat on an asshole.

4. Bullying is shit.

Yes bullying is taking a shit on people. Don't bully people. This means don't take their lunch money and shove them in a locker. This also means, don't go on a random blog and call the blogger a fat ass. Don't abuse policy to fuck with people because you disagree with their facebook post and lack a sense of humor. Don't post memes saying you want to send Obama with a note to ISIS because you don't agree with his war strategy based on lies the media has told you. Don't be an asshole to my kid just because you don't like me. Don't call CPS on a person because you disagree with their blog post about breastfeeding.

However, it's totally ok to bully the bullies. The guy who stole 500 bucks from you and threatened to sick the mafia on you if you take him to court, yeah that guy, go ahead and sign him up for male enhancement products to be sent to his workplace.

5. Try not to fling the shit that people shat on you.

This one is a hard one for me. When people shit on me, I want to fling it back, but this week, I've been shat on by "bridges I don't want to burn." I almost fell into the abyss of gossip. People are messaging me about the drama, and I started off with good intentions. I kept to the topic. I only had good things to say about the person taking a metaphorical shit on me. But as it kept going, I started getting more negative. "She just did this. What the fuck?" Then I stopped myself. Stop in the name of love, it's Hammertime, stop drop shut em down open up shop, STOP collaborate, listen. I found my true feelings. I was hurt, not pissed off. Wounding the attacker isn't going to heal my wounds. I listed all the good things I liked about the person who was taking a metaphorical shit on me, and I reminded myself why I didn't want to end a friendship over this. I have to understand these people in my life may not resolve our issues. Their desire to keep the shit steaming is their problem. It becomes mine as well when it's my desire to stink up the place even more. The only thing I can do is spray the metaphorical Febreeze so it smells like Fresh Linen in my corner, even if there's a pile of shit under my shoe.

However, there's a shit level. Everyone has a shit level. When there's so much shit Febreeze can't cover, clean house. Get rid of the shit. Burn that fucking bridge and piss on the flames so the devil knows who sent it.

With all that said, if you are constantly being shit on like I have been this week, in the words of my daughter singing a song from a Yo Gabba Gabba Song... Keep Trying. Don't Give up. Never give up. She also sang that while Pink was singing on the radio, "You gotta get up and try try try." Yes God, I got your message loud and clear.


Read more Life's too short for... blogs on the linkup at Finding Ninee

Clash of the Couples Coming Soon (haha I said COMING)

I'm going to be in a book, and I'm very proud of this. I'm very excited too. I mean look at the cover...

Is that not genius?

Some more about the book (I helped write parts of it)....

Coupledom. Fact or fable, Adam and Eve birthed the perpetual relationship drama as seen on TV today. Despite the serpents, this couple HAD IT MADE. Luxury real estate, lush gardens, and privacy out the yin-yang. Life was glorious until the bare-bottomed babe could no longer resist temptation. Despite her better half’s warnings and threats to sleep in a tree, she tasted the forbidden fruit. One bite of that seductive, juicy contraband and the stage was set for eternity— a nibble that has blossomed into an endless supply of tiny tidbits that divide lovers to this day!

Taking a cue from the naked explorers of authentic sin, Clash of the Couples is a new anthology featuring a collection of completely absurd lovers’ squabbles and relationship spats. Think couples fight over kids, sex, and money? Think again! Furniture, the last beer, and where to store the placenta are what genuinely ignite our feuds. And no argument is off limits. This book has it all!

Inside you’ll find a gut-busting compilation of stories such as: “I Can’t Believe You Ate My Sandwich," "Never Assume Anything," "Only I Can Talk About Me," and "You Want Some College Boobs?" from forty-three fearless writers. Prepare to laugh, roll your eyes, and shiver in suspense. While Eve may have had the first bite, we ate the whole tree. And made pies.

Published by Blue Lobster Book Co., Clash of the Couples launches loudly and obnoxiously on November 3, 2014. You’ll hear us coming, but look for it on Amazon, B&N, Apple, and other places where you typically buy books. For instant updates, follow along on Facebook!

Just let it be known, I'm the one who came up with, "While Eve may have had the first bite, we ate the whole tree. And made pies." It was in a poem I wrote years ago and lost. It's the only part I remember of the poem.

We are also looking for people to review the book on the day it comes out on Amazon. If interested, fill out the google form in the contact me section of this blog. Mention you want to review the book, and we'll send an email to the email address you provide with a pdf before the book is released.

List of Contributors in the Book
(you'll want to scroll to the bottom to see the inside scoop of a contributor; hoo that sounds naughty)

Andrew S. Delfino of Almost Coherent Parent
Crystal Ponti of MommiFried
Camille DeFer Thompson of Camille DeFer Thompson
Kimberly Morand of Anchor Magazine: Navigating Depression, Bipolar, and Anxiety
Meredith Napolitano of From Meredith to Mommy
Chris Dean of pixie.c.d.
Linda Roy of elleroy was here
Kevin Zelenka of Double Trouble Daddy
Sarah Cottrell of Housewife Plus
R.C. Liley of Going Dad
Mary Widdicks of Outmanned
Marie Bollman of Make Your Own Damn Dinner
Ginny Marie of Lemon Drop Pie
Mike Reynolds of Puzzling Posts
Leigh-Mary Hoffmann of Happily Ever Laughter Blog
Lisa Petty of Lisa R. Petty
Lynn Shattuck of The Light Will Find You
Jeff Bogle of Out With The Kids
Stacey Gustafson of Are You Kidding Me?
Angela Godbout of FRaPS
Courtney Conover of The Brown Girl with Long Hair
Jenny Hills of Express Bus Mama
Marcia Kester Doyle of Menopausal Mother
Julia Arnold of Frantic Mama
Jessica Azar of Herd Management
Susan A. Black of I Like That
Dave Lesser of Amateur Idiot Professional Dad
Sarah del Rio of est. 1975
Nicole R. Wildhood of Naught Be All Else
Angela Keck of Writer Mom’s Blog
Alexa Bigwarfe of No Holding Back
Brian Sorrell of Dadding Full Time
Kathryn Leehane of Foxy Wine Pocket
April Grant of 100lb Countdown
Bev Feldman of Linkouture
Jodi Flaherty of The Noise of Boys
Scott Rigdon of Three Five Zero
Lydia Richmond of Cluttered Genius
Allie Burdick of VITA - Train for Life
Michelle Grewe of Crumpets and Bollocks
Barb Godshalk of Co-Author of Tall Tales and Short Stories from South Jersey
Jonathon Floyd of One Funny Daddy
Amanda Mushro of Questionable Choices in Parenting
Chris Carter of The Mom Cafe

And I want to add, some TMI inside scoop. I got One Funny Daddy to submit something to this book by showing him my boobs. It's ok. You will get to see them soon enough. I'm going to plaster them on merchandise for a charity in October. And why? More inside scoop, speaking of absurd relationship spats... I caught my husband's dick in a facebook group. He posted a dick pic for horny ladies, some of who were friends of mine. I told him I get a freebie now. No I wasn't mad. It's HARD to find a picture of a good penis on the web. Great, now all this talk about penises and boobs is probably going to attract porn websites and Freud's ghost.

You're Such a Troll

Annie, my 4 year old girl, will argue with you like this. "Mommy open this." You open it, and then she responds, "I wanted to open it. Now I don't want it. I'm never playing ever again because of you."

That has nothing to do with the post. It was just cute.

Trolls lurk under many bridges and in many dark corners of the internet. I, fortunately, haven't had too many trolls simply because I'm not famous enough to get them by the bulk (it's cheaper that way I hear), but some of my friends are.

The sad thing is, I hate to admit this here and now, I can be a troll, and the ugliest troll you've ever seen, with a puss seeping wart on my nose. You probably are too. It's ok. Think back to the moment of ironic hypocrisy you displayed somewhere, whether you were judging someone for being too judgmental, or you were calling someone an asshole in the most assholish way possible, or maybe you preached about Christ's love and charity for the world in the paragraph you wrote about how poor people don't deserve hand-outs. Somewhere along the way, I'm almost certain you exhibited troll like behavior. Why? Because underneath all the civilized, hairless human skin dwells a savage beast in all humans. We are still civilized, don't get me wrong. Instead of just peeing on top of someone else's pee like the alpha beast, we spew venom in the form of hateful words.

The reason I want you to admit that you have trolled through the park at some point in your life... Go ahead. I triple dog dare you. Say it. I was a troll once. It was a dark moment in my day, when I was at a 5-dollar-hooker level low, when the things I would have done for a Klondike Bar are things I did for pleasure... Admit it. The reason I want you to admit this is admitting is the first step toward recovery.

Now that you admitted to it, I triple dog dare you to infinity to challenge yourself to edit your posts. Every time you comment, whether you said, "LOL" or "You're suck a fucking cunt," (because you can't troll without a good old fashioned typo) go back and edit it so that you remove all insults. You remove all name calling. And you do one of the following...

Print out this image and Post It
(get it? Post it?) near your computer.

1. Does the person really deserve a good bollocking? Then replace the mainstream name calling with something much more creative and profound that will surely go over their head to where they might like your insult.

2. Does the person really deserve a good bollocking? Probably not. Ok. Just replace the negative shit with positive shit. Instead of dwelling on what they did wrong, dwell on something they did right. Remind yourself, we are all flawed and imperfect, and that's ok.

3. Is your post funny? Cmon now. Make it funny. Laughter is the best medicine for sadness and it can temporarily relieve asshattery.





Now that I challenged you to this, I challenge myself as well, but not until after I tell you about this post where I trolled the trolls in the name of public shaming and pimping out awesome blog posts with trolled negativity. Check out my examples of some awesome trolling at The Publishing Blogger's Network.

The Real Meaning of Back to School Christmas

At the end of summer, I always feel like...

At the end of summer, I always feel like a neutered dog. I have this overwhelming groggy feeling with a huge sense that I lost an important piece of me somewhere, and I'm just sitting here asking myself, "What the fuck just happened?" 

I don't remember what summers and falls were like before kids outside of the smell of popcorn lingering across the bleachers at a high school football game while my underwear was frozen to my ass, which gave one of those gushing "It's Christmas" feelings in my chest. I love football season. I love autumn.

But now that I have kids, this is a time of year where the glory of sending them back to school is supposed to be a time to celebrate. Summer was full of days where the kids either had cabin fever stuck at home while I got things done, or we were out everywhere blowing pay checks on the cost of going to a pool, or goofy golf, or some little trip designed to amuse the children enough to cure symptoms of cabin fever like blind rage toward each other, walking on the walls, and climbing curtains literally and hope they actually fall asleep before midnight. (Note: I still have the Dora Blanket pinned up to my living room window courtesy of the children's summer redecorating program).

Anticipating the start of the school year reminds me of those days as a child when I anticipated vacation at Disney World or Christmas.

I expected this...

But then the reality of school sets in. The government isn't going to give you free babysitting for free. No. That would be too easy. You have to give them your soul for this trade.

Every year school begins, the schools start demanding a bunch of horse shit tasks of a parent that reminds them why they looked forward to summer to begin with. This year, I had the pleasure of enrolling my youngest in Pre-School. While excited that all 3 kids will be in school, finally, for the first time in my life, I was still hopping on one foot and then dancing on the other while rubbing my head and patting my belly to turn in the necessary paperwork and get the shots up to date and all the jive that comes with enrolling into school. Any time I showed the slightest amount of objection, the schools threatened not to babysit my kids for me. We all know the hardest most demanding job out there is that of a mother, so extra unnecessary tasks is what we love to add to our plate.

I wrote this one myself. Can you tell?

Then school starts and every morning in order to obtain free babysitting services, I have to get my kids there on time. On time. You might as well say, "You have to do a handstand every day with a duck's penis." I know some people are like, "That's not that hard," and duck's penis is not, but when it comes to parenting, those people either don't have kids or they only have like one kid and a bunch of supportive adults helping them. That's ok if you do get help, but you lose the high horse with that. I assure you when it's one woman doing all the work to get 3 kids somewhere, anywhere, "on time" is just not an option. But the schools mandate that we grow this tail out of our ass and defy the basic laws of physics.

One of my infamous excuse reasons on the sign in sheet at school describes what happens every morning with these kids. I'm willing to bet it went over most educators' heads because irony... The centripetal force of my kids is so strong it increased earth's gravitational pull [at our location] thereby slowing down time for us. That's precisely what happens on a metaphorical level, and possibly on a physical literal one as well. Time is relative, meaning it depends on where you are. It's so possible this is what happened to that hour that time you were wiping a butt one minute and then you moved onto finding shoes and you know that did not just take an hour to do, but according to the clock, yes it did.

I honestly suggest looking up the science to what I just said so you can teach it to your kids since the schools won't. And if you didn't click on duck penis earlier, you should. That's biology your kid won't learn at school.

Time Dilation for Dummies
Gravitational Time Dilation on Wikipedia


Common morning experiences getting kids ready for school... At least for me...

• all 3 kids decide they can't dress themselves
• they want to wear different shirt
• they won't wear anything but the dirty pink dress with a gaping hole in the arm pit
• they want to pack a lunch last second
• they can't find their homework
• nobody can find a matching shoe for the life of them (it's usually in the car)
• you forgot to make them take a bath the night before and you can tell by smell they aren't wiping right
• 2 of 3 kids refuse to let you brush their hair, so you chase them like a game of tag tricking them for each hair brush swipe before saying "fuck it go with bed head." 
• There's a pile of mysterious ketchup on the backpack
• The PreK kid's folder is covered, inside and out, in sticky wetness which requires the use of Fantastick and you just read in the 1st grader's folder that you have to fill out this form and turn it in that day and the 3rd grader isn't sure if she even brought her folder home
• You see an advertisement for Picture day and have a mini-heart attack that today could be that day before you realize it was last month or it's not until next week. This happens every day.
• You realize how messy your house is and find yourself uncontrollably cleaning a little or throwing in a quick load of laundry on your way out the door 
• You realize, usually about the time you are looking for your car keys, that you are wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday and the school might notice. Then you ponder about the costs and benefits to brushing your teeth as you change your shirt and hope nobody pays attention to pants. 
• You give 3 kids a shower at once, dry them off at once, dress them at once, find clothes and shoes for 3 kids at once, brush hair at once while they are asking things like, "Why does the color blue look blue?" and "Solma won't stop looking at me!" and "I want to take my fluffy unicorn to school with me, where is it?" It's really the mindfuck of all mindfucks.
• After 25 minutes of looking, you found the spare keys (nevermind the actual set you usually use) in a toy box in the closet in the kids' room. 
• You get everyone to the car for the first time, and one of them has to pee, they forgot something in the house, all now have to pee, or someone pees their pants, or falls into a mud puddle, or sits on an old milkshake your husband left in the car. 
• The second time you get everyone back into the car, the seat belt buckle won't buckle. She's in the front seat it's my turn to sit in the front. The Pre-K kid now wants to sit in the front knowing she's not allowed to. Someone wants to go in through the window instead of the door. The 3rd grader leaves the car to look at the rocks because we are taking too long.
• We start driving to school, FINALLY, and oh shit, I forgot my purse. I need the ID to get into the school building to drop of Pre-K kid. Turn around.
• Run in the house to get ID, and put all 3 kids back into the car because I took too long, which is any time longer than it takes for them to unbuckle themselves and "make themselves comfortable." 
• Show up 5 minutes late and deal with all the dirty glares from teachers and secretaries like I obviously just tarred and feathered my kids in the name of bad parenting. They do look at my kids with pity like, "Those poor kids have such a fucked-up mother." 

Dear teachers, can we not make this deal?

No seriously, I won't care that you gave my Gabby Logan's artwork in her folder if you promise not to care that her homework is covered in pancake syrup. I won't care that you give me my Gabby all hyper at the end of the day because you had her sitting still for most of it following absurd rules you made up for a false sense of control if you don't care that I do the exact opposite for cognitive growth and healthy psychological sense of trust, especially since I have no choice because you hogged all the quiet sit still time she could possibly give in a day. 

So by the time I actually get to school and drop them off, it's like I just left my stomach and working brain behind because it goes from complete chaos to complete peace in point five. It's so extreme it leaves me a state of blah for most of the day, too much so that I can't actually enjoy the few hours without the kids. The blah even smothers out the guilt of being late, or leaving a head unbrushed, or sending a kid with a lunch box full of marshmallows and fruit snacks, or a kid wearing black sweatpants with a navy blue top and sparkling pink slippers over stained, unmatching white socks. It doesn't really go away until I sleep it off all night, and the next morning, between the first cup of caffeine and the moment I have to wake up the kids for school, I feel human.

Then on top of it, schools are a melting pot of cooties like a hospital nobody disinfected. Yes kids have cooties. Lots of fucking cooties. And we herd them all into a school environment where it is managed, at best, with the occasional use of Clorox Cleanup Wipes. Kids can handle most cooties as their immune systems are developing and battling the germs like no other, but my immune system is old and set in its ways. It doesn't know what the fuck to do with all these germs, so every school year, I get sick. Usually within the first week of school, I'm sick, and I continue to be sick all year round, catching something new about the time I'm getting over something else.

So everything I just described, I generally do it with a sinus-induced migraine, sneezes, snot running out of my nose into my mouth while I'm trying to squeeze a kid into the wrong pair of pants.

Basically, at the end of summer, I feel blah. Numbing blah where I'm identifying what I'm looking at consciously, you know, like computer. That's a computer. TV, the noise is the TV. Dinner, that's something I have to make isn't it?

P.S. If you really think kids go to school to get educated, LOL you are naive. It's been nothing more than a free babysitting service provided by the government for decades. Check America out in how well we compare, in education, with other countries. They are not getting "educated." They are getting "conformed." I'm also not a hippy. I'm just not a sheeple. I'm the type of person who throws away the science textbook so I can read Einstein's notes. I'm such a rebel. No actually I had good teachers who didn't follow curriculum when I was a kid.

P.P.S. This is a blog post about MY FEELINGS. If you decided it was an invite to knock my parenting because you're so perfect (which you are not, you probably suck that bad-parenting cock down better than I ever could), I'm probably going to publicly humiliate you in several places.

For more Finish the Sentence Friday, check out the link-up on Finding Ninee

What I did today that pissed me off.

Gabby has lots of cavities, like 6 of them, and she's 7 years old. And they hurt bad. This is normal in my house. I can't deny my children the finer things in life like sugar because YOLO.

We go to the only Pediatric Dentist in town, who is a great dentist; unfortunately, I could probably throat punch one of the bitches behind the desk. This is medical care in my neck of the woods at its finest. All front office staff in this area sucks, some so bad regardless how great the doctor is, I won't fuck with them. Most doctors have no idea how to manage staff. I'm seriously thinking about writing a snarky letter to all the nearby medical schools about requiring some general business and management classes in the curriculum.

So anyway, they want to put Gabby under at the hospital to fix her teeth, especially with her autism. This is the advantage of going to a Pediatric Dentist. I'm all for it. We did this with my middle kid when she had a bunch of cavities at the toddler age. It was perfect. They knocked her out. A couple hours later, I'm sitting with her in a room waiting for her to eat something, drink something and worse of all, pee, so we can leave. She experienced no pain, and she loves the dentist.

So we had to get cleared by a regular physician, someone who is willing to be on standby on that day in case shit goes wrong, like if she goes into anaphylactic shock. Only one doctor, supposedly, in town is willing to do that for this dentist, and he does all her patients. They wouldn't let me make the appointment myself. The bitch was rude about it too. Very pushy. So she made the appointment for today. Yesterday the office called Rafael (the husband) to confirm, and he never asked where they were located because that's a question only the person in charge of taking the kid to said appointment would ask.

Here I am this morning. I knew she had to be with Dr. Wolfe by 10:30. I was told numerous times by the dental bitch that if she was late at all, they won't see her ever again. So I Bing'ed (Google on my phone) Dr. Wolfe West Virginia. There are two Dr. Wolfe's in my neighborhood, and one in a nearby town. And for one of the offices I was going to guess, different sites had different phone numbers.

So I picked a phone number, called it, and got "Thank you for calling Dr. Wolfe's office... blah blah blah push 3 to get someone at the front desk." I pushed 3. I explain the situation, multiple offices I have no idea where I'm going and I am on my way. She looked up my daughter, and then gave me another number to try.

I call that number and get a busy signal. My phone didn't log the number I called on account there was no answer. I'm doing this while driving. I'm so glad these people are with the times to know people would be attempting this shit on a smart phone while driving. I did NOT Bing it though while driving.

So I call the original number back for the number she gave me because by this time, I forgot. I figure, this is a good time to ask questions about how many Dr. Wolfe's exist in the area and where they are. They answered the phone with, "Do you mind holding please?" And i was like fine. How much you want to bet they come back while I'm in Burger King's drive thru trying to order my precious double bacon croissant?

Well, they never got back to me. I waited 10 minutes before hanging up. I then called the dentist. I explained everything to the receptionist, who then responded with, "You need to talk to [the bitch I'd love to throat punch]. It took her about 3 minutes to answer her phone. She's pissed. She thinks the appointment SHE MADE is at 10:00 AM and not 10:30, and the time is 10:10. She was like, "They probably won't see you now that you are late. There's no other doctor who will do this. We can't do the surgery." I'm thinking, "Bitch I already paid you cash to do this surgery you will do it." No, instead, I was like, "Well if they won't see her, I'll just find someone myself of my choice who will." She was like, "Nobody else will." I'm like, "I'm sure I can find someone." Mind you, my mom is really good friends with a doctor in her choir. He would do this for us easy.  It was as if her neurotic bitchness wanted me to freak out. I just refused to freak out, no matter how much she tried to get me to all demonic like.

Then I realized, my brain backtracking in the conversation, she has the wrong appointment time in her head. This isn't the first time she did this to me. She has a record of fucking up appointments. Back in July, I made an appointment with her on my way out the door with Gabby for Annabelle. She made the appointment some day in August. I put it in my Google Calendar. I know it was in August. I remember thinking, "Damn, you know she has a cavity you can see, like you can't get her in any sooner than that? Really? A whole month?"

YES ALL THREE OF MY KIDS HAD CAVITIES. Yes I feel bad for it. No I won't stop giving them Splenda or sugar. Yes we are flossing now and I'm getting on the teeth brushing thing better.

Day of appointment, I'm driving Annabelle to the mall to shop, and my phone notifies me of the appointment a half hour before it. So we go to it. They were like, "You missed it. It was in July." I'm like "No, the appointment was for today." They kept reiterating how I MISSED the appointment, and then I was like, "No, I did not miss the appointment. That is right now. Today. I am here. You guys missed the appointment. Quit saying that I missed the appointment. You missed it." I'm almost certain bitch changed it without notifying me. They offered to let me wait with my overactive 4 year old for a couple hours for them to squeeze her in. LMAO. These bitches are on some shit if they think I'm going to sit for a few hours in their waiting room with my kid. You can tell these bitches never reproduced, and they really don't know children enough to be working with them in my opinion.

Anyway, I correct bitch on the phone. "The appointment is at 10:30. We will be late if you don't tell me where the office is. Given how long it obviously takes to call someone to find an office location, we're probably going to be a little late. This is why you need to do business with someone with better customer service." Seriously, I never had this problem looking for a Macy's.

She tells me, despite her bad direction giving. I asked the right questions to find where I needed to go. She did the whole, "Well I'll call and tell them what's going on and maybe, just maybe, they will forgive this and see her." Yeah. Thanks for the "favor." Now that's some sociopathic bull shit right there. You know, if she would have let me make the appointment myself, I would have learned BEFORE the appointment that there were multiple offices and I would have asked where it was.

So then I get there at 10:30 exactly. I sign my kid in. We wait 10 minutes, and the lady calls me up to the desk. "You have the wrong office. We don't have a Gabrielle on schedule. You want the one next door."

Ok. Next door I can work with. I get in there, and mind you, the way this works...

The building is one building connected, with multiple doors into various businesses separated by walls. Shopping complex like. But this office, they were not separated by a wall. They were separated by the front desk windows. Imagine a square where the back is not a wall but a hall. The front is the main wall to the outside. The left is a window. The right is a window. And two receptionists who couldn't communicate with each other, "Hey do you have a Gabby on your schedule?" are working there. There are two Dr. Wolfe's working out of this office. One is a pediatrician. The one we need to see.

I get there at 10:45. I signed her in as getting there at 10:30 because nurses chart whatever the fuck they want. Seriously they do. When they forget to take your temperature when they were supposed to, best believe it's on your chart that they took your temperature, and it was normal. Now if you die from a fever nobody tracked, they probably won't get sued because your family will have no idea someone neglected to take your temperature. This actually does happen, a lot, especially in nursing homes. So, if they chart whatever they want, I will too. We were there at 10:30. Just the wrong side.

Then the woman with no eye contact made us wait 25 minutes before handing me paperwork to fill out. We were there almost an hour before seeing the doctor. Mind you, this is the place that won't see you ever again if you are late.

Now this front desk lady was rude too. When I turned in the paperwork, I started to ask, "Is it ok if I just leave this here?" and she interrupted at "is it ok" with, "I'll be with you in a moment." I watched her for 5 minutes doing stuff, and I rudely watched her, you know the obvious stare, until she got to me. Then of course, "Do you have your insurance card?" and I'm like, "I'm not sure. My kids played in my wallet recently and stuff like that disappears when they do, hold on." She was like, "If you don't have it, we can't see you." Now I'm sorry, but I'd really like to go 10 whole fucking minutes today without hearing someone saying, "We can't see you." Bitch I'm paying you. I'm the pimp. You're the ho. Know your place.

In the paperwork, I discover their policy is if you are more than 20 minutes late, they can't see you, and if you are a first-time patient of theirs, they won't reschedule a no-show.

So pissed off, livid, I get to the doctor. I had every intention on giving this guy a crash course in Customer Service 101. No. It NEVER works that way. He was really super nice. He was great with kids. High Five. How old are you? What school do you go to? Ok, while I do this, try not to laugh. Ok, laugh, but don't fart.... Great doctor.

And now Gabby wants to switch to him for her regular doctor.

SIGH

PS. Super pissed we are in a culture where it's ok for healthcare to hold your kid's health hostage to make you play their bull shit games, even if you are paying the overpriced prices. You know, if a pizza joint did this, nobody would eat that pizza.

PPS. Now you see why kid's appointments is almost a full time job? I could hire someone to do this if I could afford the hours.