Hero Worship

When I started writing this piece, I really had intended it to go in a completely different direction than it wound up. I was going to focus on people and things that pissed me off. People that got on my nerves. It turns out those people are ME!  I guess it has taught me that I don’t have to fix everything. I don’t have to be the hero.  Can you relate?  Please....

Know what I hate?  Hymning and hawing.  Wishy-washy.  Passive aggressive.  (although, at times, passive aggressive can be pretty funny to watch)  I hate when someone wants something but does not ASK for it.  Like when my grandmother, whom I love dearly, will sit there and say,

“Oh, it is such a hot day out.” (pause)  “You just can’t seem to quench your thirst on a day like this.” (level look) (pause)  “I wish this weather would break.” (glare) (pause)  “My throat feels so scratchy with this dry heat.”  (fanning herself) (she is the Italian Blanche Du Bois) Then, when I take the bait, and offer her some water, she will protest.  “No, no, don’t trouble yourself, you are so busy just sitting there.”  

Why wouldn’t she just say “Can you get me a glass of water?”  I kind of forgive a little because she is 91 and in her generation, women were not allowed to just come out and ask for what they wanted. It would have been considered rude or bitchy, so they became masters of manipulation.  They always seemed to get what they wanted in the long run, but it took a lot of time and effort.  

In this day and age, just come out and say what you mean and mean what you say.  There is no need to expect others to read your mind. You are an idiot if you get mad at them for not picking up your cues!  I think it is a co-dependency thing too.  When one gives in to those manipulators, jump at their cues and try to anticipate every need, they are just as much at fault, making themselves crazy while the other sits pretty without a care in the world.  

Now that I am thinking about it, I am guilty of trying to anticipate every possible land mine, obstacle, and problem before it happens, which, at times, include anticipating how someone will react or feel.  I have been called 'Hector Projector.' 

This can work to both my advantage and my disadvantage.  For instance, if I correctly predict that my 4 yr old will be tired with no nap by 2pm and my 8 year old will be hungry by 3:30pm and my husband will not be home by 5:30pm like he said but probably closer to 7pm, I know that means that I should make spaghetti and meatballs for dinner by 4pm.  What? (stay with me)  That meal only uses 2 pots for quick cleanup, the boys will eat their full of it without hesitation, and it is an easy reheat for the Hub.  I can give the kids a bath so the Hub can eat. Then, when the boys are in bed and screaming that they want daddy, he can go up with them after he eats and I can catch up on facebook clean up the kitchen for an hour.  See, it all works.  The problem is, there are times that I anticipate the future so much that I ruin the fun now.  I am so worried about cutting obstacles off at the pass that I can’t just enjoy the present.    

But enough about me being wrong.  Let’s go back to me being right.  It is the kind of thing that makes me feel like I know what I am doing.  Makes me feel invaluable, like the hero of every day life.  Especially when we are out and about.  When, for instance, one of the kids is thirsty and I pull out an extra water.  Or we are sitting in traffic, they are just starting to argue and I hand them coloring books and crayons.  When someone skins their knee and I whip out the wipes, Neosporin and bandaids.  When Little One has an accident and I pull out the extra underwear, pants socks and shoes.  When someone is cold and I have the sweater, someone is hot and I have the cool towel.  When someone is scared and I remembered to bring Mr. Turtle. When someone is looking for his sunglasses and I find them where he always leaves them (in the center console of the minivan) When we go on vacation with the dog and I remember the can opener for the dog food. When someone’s alarm clock on their blackberry goes off at 4AM on a weekend and I get up to find it and turn it off so the kids are not woken up.  When...  

Oh MY GOD, I am about to cry!  I can’t take this shit anymore..... WHERE IS MY COOL TOWEL!  WHERE IS MY SIPPY CUP!   WHO IS TAKING CARE OF ME?   But here is the thing.  It’s completely my fault.  Who said that I have to make sure that everyone wants for nothing, all the time? I mean the Hub runs out the door with the boys, with nothing but a plan for how to have fun.  And you know what?  They always do!  They have a blast.  There are times where he may have wished he had an extra water/pants/bandaid/snack, but not too often.  Why am I so friggin neurotic?  Why do I have to anticipate everything?  I guess that is just my job?  Is it?  I mean maybe that is why the kids don’t see that there are consequences for  shit happens!  And sometimes there is not a GD thing you can do about it.  It’s life.  You can never anticipate everything. Now, I am still going to be an advocate for being prepared, because it has saved my ass more than a few times, but maybe I don’t have to be so crazy about it.  Maybe I don’t need to focus on it as much.  It sounds good in theory, right? 

Isn’t it good enough just being me, being their mother who has fun and gives advise instead of sippy cups, time instead of activities, love and attention instead of bandaids and a change of pants?  Maybe I should let them figure out their needs all on their own?  Naaa, who will be the hero, then?  ;)  

Am I raising Spaulding Smails?

Here are some major mothering mistakes, right here, out in the open.  In case you want a little review here is what I wrote last summer about this same time.  (My Bad Ass Kids) 

Let me first preface that First Born is a energy filled, constant moving, attention loving and intelligent. He is loved by his teachers and coaches.  We always get compliments about how focused he is and how he stays away from trouble causing situations, even when they involve his friends.  He is helpful to other children and is generally happy and very confident.  

With that being said, he can be the most complaining and seemingly ungrateful 8 year old I know.  He always wants more.  When at a Phillies game - sitting in amazing seats - he wants to be in the front row, then he wants another hot dog, then he wants popcorn, then he wants to walk around the stadium.  When we tell him ‘no’ to all of these things he sulks, pouts and whines.  See Spaulding When on a vacation in Gettysburg - after spending 2 hours walking through the park - he complains that we didn’t get to see everything.  When going fishing, he complains that he didn’t catch the biggest/first/most fish.  When at the beach he is too hot/cold or his sandcastle is not perfect.  When I tell him to get a shower he wants a bath. When I tell him to get a bath he wants a shower.  

The ingrate does not realize how good he’s got it!  Pretty Damn Good!  We are by no means rich, but our kids want for NOTHING.  There are times I think a good 70s style whoop ass is in order!  Once First Born was complaining that he was the ONLY one of his friends that did not have an DS!   I then asked him why he wanted one, since he hates video games and gets frustrated when playing them.  He said, because everyone else has one! WTF!  (not a good enough answer, you ain’t getting one!) Then he asked for an ipod touch for Christmas. Really?  He is 8!  He likes music and so do I, but an ipod touch?  This is not needed at this age, not to mention that it can connect to the internet and I am not comfortable with that. Besides the fact that I think he just wanted it to play Angry Birds.  He has complained that we don’t have a pool or a cool play set or a garden railroad!  WHAT!  He wants a garden railroad and was pissed when I told him that was unrealistic.  I guess my next project is to go online and find out ways that I can teach and instill fiscal responsibility and deter greed.  

He is not always this way.  There are many times he is very happy and accommodating.  But we never know when Spaulding will rear his ugly head.  When he does act like a spoiled brat, it brings us all down.  No one can seem to fully enjoy the event, if little Mr. 'I want it all and I want it now' is around.  I can, at times, predict when he will act this way - he hasn’t gotten enough sleep, he is hungry, Hub is working a lot, he has been watching too much tv, etc.  These are all indications that he will be miserable and ungrateful.  Although, how long can we use these excuses?  And how long will I feel completely responsible for him acting like a pain in the ass, since it is my job to make sure he is fed, has enough sleep, is not watching too much tv, etc., etc.? 

Just the other day, we were at the Phillies game and all the aforementioned  things happened. The Hub and I decided that we were leaving the game early because he could not stop his complaining.  He cried but did not seem surprised.   When we got home, Hub and I snuck outside to fight about confer and figure out the best way to handle the situation.  We made First Born call and apologize to my dad, who bought the tickets, and my brother who was sitting next to him listening to all his complaints. Then we sent him to bed.   I had to give kudos to my Hub, because what he said really set in. Hub told First Born, “I am not mad, but what you did made me sad and disappointed.”  This hit home, as only a father telling his son, he is disappointed in him, can.  First Born, said “I don’t know why I am so stupid and say stupid things.  I just can’t stop them from coming out of my mouth. I am sad that I treated Pop Pop and Uncle J that way.” I explained that he was not stupid but just has to think before he speaks.  It was a good lesson as he was made to understand what his words and actions do to other people.  That is my main concern.  That he recognizes those around him and how they are affected.    

It may be hard for an 8 year old NOT to be all self absorbed, but it is our job as parents to make sure they aren’t.  I am not doing a great job, but I am working on it. I made a new rule for dinner time.  We are not allowed to talk about the food, unless it is something nice.  I will have no more: 

“Eww, what is this?”   -  It is chicken without breading and don't use that tone!  

“Do I have to eat this?” - No, but you will be hungry, if you don’t because the kitchen is now closed.  

“I don’t like this/It’s too dry/too wet/ touching my other food/too bland/too spicy,”  - I don’t care!  You are lucky I cooked you a meal that we are all sitting down together to eat!  I bust my ass to make food and clean up food all friggin day long and you are going to complain!  GET TO YOUR ROOM!  

Then Hub and I, after many frustrated looks and grimaces to each other, glare at the boys, excuse ourselves and sneak outside to fight about confer and discuss the best way to handle the children.

We have stopped all these dinnertime frustrations.  We can talk about our day or any topic as long as it is not focusing on the food or the eating of the food.  It seems to be working, so far.  

The Little One who is only 4 seems to get it.  But he is just an easy going, don’t rock the boat, type.  (he is a lot like Hub, in that way)  Although when he wants something he has his Jedi mind tricks.   He was a premie and Little One and I both went through a lot just to get him here/keep him here.  He doesn’t ask for or demand much so when he asks “Can you pree-teck me when its time for sleepings in case I have a dream”  we tend to give in a little more than I did with First Born.  Or when he says “I sure like chippy’s and dippy’s. Mommy why don’t you put some out?” (chippy’s and dippy’s is Stacy’s pita chips and Yucatan guacamole, in case you were wondering)  I can’t help but put them out.  He may complain a little if we are going in from outside and he wants to stay out, or if we are not having macaroni and cheese for the 6th time that week, or if he can not watch Alvin and the Chipmunks.... again, but when you tell him ‘no’ he is pretty accepting and easy going. It may just be a personality thing.  

I love my boys.  I want them to be happy and confident, compassionate children that grow into happy and confident, compassionate adults.  NOT Spaulding Smails.

So any suggestions, comments, gaffaws, criticisms?  Have at it!   I am open to anything.  

Happy Father's Day to my Hub

He is my husband and the father of our children. But those titles do not do him justice. He makes our boys feel special and valued. Here are just a few of the reasons I pat myself on the back for marrying and having children with my Hub. 


He has shown me how to be patient with my boys.


He allows our boys to be the daredevils that they are and (most of the time) he proves my worrying wrong. 


He shows our boys what love looks like. 


He always strives to make our boys' day the "best day ever!" 


He is slow to anger/frustration and fast to recover from anger/frustration. 


He then apologizes for his anger or frustration if it is unwarranted. 


He makes sure our boys are safe, happy and cared for at all times. 


He tells our boys that they are his "best buddies." 


He recognizes our boys unique and different abilities. 


He talks to them about his childhood. 


He shows them that it is ok to be wrong or make a mistake. 


He shows them how to apologize. 


He never misses a little league, coach pitch baseball game and when our First Born is playing he watches as if the Phillies are in the world series. 


He cuddles with our Little One. 


He is very sensitive to our First Born's fears at bedtime and much more patient than I am. 


He introduces them to all kinds of music. 


He loves watching them belly laugh at the Three Stooges.


He will watch train videos ad nausuem with our boys. 


He will even purchase more train videos so that they can watch them when he is not home. 


He surprises them with stickers/hard hats/clip boards/"important papers" that he "finds" at work.


He explains to them when he is tired from working so much and tolerates it when they ignore his explanation. 


He enthusiastically takes them hiking and fishing and exploring. 


He will dig holes on the beach until it is unsafe for the general public to walk on said beach, just because the boys want more holes in the sand.  


He teaches them the value of hard work and doing things right the first time. 


He shows them the importance of being a true Philadelphia Sports fan, through thick and thin. No bandwagoners allowed! 


He not only allows but encourages them to be goofy. 


He demonstrates this goofiness daily. 


He gives me hugs and kisses in front of them. 


He makes me laugh almost as much as they do. 


He drives me crazy, in both the good way and the bad way. 


He loves me for the crazy that I am. 


He consistently shows our boys what an amazing father and loving husband looks like, every day. 


Happy Father's Day My Love!

Waiting on the Verdict and the Millstone

The trial of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania v. William J. Lynn, Edward V. Avery and James Brennan has come to a close. We are now awaiting the verdict. I followed the trial closely. There is a man named Ralph Cipriano who is a veteran reporter and one of 30 journalists accredited by the Philadelphia district attorney's office to cover the case. He has been reporting on the trial daily on his blog sponsored by the Beasly Firm.  I read his blog along with the articles in Philly.com, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Daily News and the AP. Ralph's blog was by far the most concise, independent, and non biased account of the trial. I really respect his insight and his candor. Ralph raised many concerns about both the defense and the prosecution's cases. One being that the prosecution seemed to be a bit long winded, with so much evidence and information, that it may have been too much to digest, for the jury. The other being that the prosecution had hammered Msgr Lynn too hard on cross examination. In the words of (kopride) one of the commenters on his blog: "nobody likes rats, but if you watched a kid tie a string to a rat, and torture it for hours, you would start rooting for the rat." Yet another problem for the prosecution was their "smoking gun" - the 1994 list of pedophile priests composed by Lynn and ordered to be shredded by Cardinal Bevilacqua - was also being used by the defense. The defense was using it to show that Lynn was just a patsy, a scapegoat, and the real guilty one is, the conveniently dead, Cardinal Bevilacqua.

That was the defense's mantra all along. That Lynn had no real power to do anything to the pedophile's in the Archdiocese. Accept of course, recommend that they get treatment or hand them their assignment to the next unsuspecting parish. When parishioners wrote, called or sat down with Lynn and told their horrific stories to him, he had a hand written note in front of him, telling him, "Never admit to victims that there are other cases."  And he didn't. He never told these people that they were not alone. That Fr. Gana, or Dux, or Sicoli, or Avery or Brennan, had other victims who were suffering just like they were. He quietly listened, and told them that he would take care of it. Then did nothing. And more children suffered.

There are some things that the trial showed that hopefully the people in the pews will take notice of. Priests stand together. They make a vow of obedience to their superiors. They are moved higher in the ranks when they play by the rules and don't rock the boat. But, in the real world, if an HR manager had a file of 35 employees whom were accused of raping children, and some of them even admitted it; wouldn't the moral, legal and ethical thing to be done, would be, call the police? If the statute of limitations passed wouldn't you at least get these men away from children? Wouldn't a normal person tell parishioners to be extra careful and guard their children? Maybe even have some sort of counseling for the possible effected families? In the real world most would even risk losing their jobs to make sure that innocent children are protected from these monsters. But Lynn did not live in the real world. He lived in a much safer world. Mgsr. Lynn’s lack of compassion and empathy for the powerless and his reverence and awe of the powerful are what this trial has shown, (if nothing else.) The difference of him standing up to his superiors and speaking out for the victims (either by going to the police/parishioners/press/screaming it from the rooftops!) and someone in the secular community doing so is that HE would not loose his job/livelihood. HE is a priest and guaranteed a job, a home, food, a pension, insurance and PROTECTION! So he stood to lose NOTHING by standing up for what was right. For standing up and saying I WILL NOT STAND BY AND ALLOW THIS TO HAPPEN UNDER MY NOSE. Not to mention that he is a PREIST and supposed to do that ANYWAY, regardless! That is his CALLING! SO I can feel no compassion for his decisions. I can feel no compassion for his situation. It was a lack of even a shred of courage. Because he did not stand to lose anything, accept, being in the good graces of his Cardinal.

Is what he did/didn't do criminal? In my opinion, Yes. Is what he did/didn't do immoral? Absolutely Yes. Will the jury come to the same conclusion? I really don't know. I would not be surprised if they didn't. But no matter what the outcome, the work of exposing the truth in the Catholic Church is not done. The light needs to be shown bright on everyone who knew and did nothing when children were being raped and tortured.

A newer story just surfaced. Cardinal Dolan, when he was Archbishop of Milwaukee and who is now cardinal archbishop of New York and head of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, paid off pedophiles! What is better than moving a pedophile to another unsuspecting parish? Give him $20,000.00 and release him to the public with a clean record. Oh and cover his health insurance.  It makes me sick. Substantiated allegations of child rape and molestation were made against priests in Milwaukee. The solution in Cardnial Dolan's mind was to give them money to leave the preisthood. Hell, it was cheaper than paying all those victims and then the priests were not his problem. He could very biblically "wash his hands of it." After they paid off their "problem priests" they filed for bankruptcy so they would not have to pay the victims. Apparently this is the m.o. for most Archdiocese when faced with a lot of troublesome lawsuits against their brother priests.  They file for bankruptcy and then claim they don't have the money to pay the abuse victims. They then bounce back and are off scott free! All the while, the money keeps rolling in every Sunday. And for all those that still think that unscrupulous people are lining up for a payday; Fewer than 2 percent of sexual abuse allegations against the Catholic church appear to be false.

So I can not even venture a guess as to the outcome of the first Catholic official prosecuted and brought to a jury trial on criminal charges of endangering the welfare of children by failing to investigate and report allegations of child abuse. I hope it is just and swift. But I am not holding my breath. The next trial that will be like this one is coming up against Kansas City Bishop Robert Finn. Interestingly enough, he is blaming Msgr. Robert Murphy, who is Lynn's counterpart in Kansas City. Lynn blames Bevilacqua, Finn blames Murphy.... NO one in the Church is taking responsibility. Everyone is passing the buck, closing ranks and protecting their own brother priests. Who is looking out for the vulnerable?

They better start listening to Jesus. He said, "'Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me; and whoever ensnares one of these little ones who trust me, it would be better for him to have a millstone hung around his neck and be drowned in the open sea! Woe to the world because of snares! For there must be snares, but woe to the person who sets the snare!..... See that you never despise one of these little ones, for I tell you that their angels in heaven are continually seeing the face of my Father in heaven." Matthew 18,5-11

Since they didn't listen to the big man, they better get their swim trunks and millstones ready!

My Love of Irish Women

I am attracted to Irish women. I surround myself with them. From the earliest friends I ever picked to my current harem, they are all Irish Americans. I am married to an Italian, Croatian, Slovakian, American man. He has no Irish heritage that we know of, but there is still hope. 


For the most part I am Italian American. Although, my mother's paternal grandmother was Irish. I am still doing research to find out more about when and where in Ireland that part of my family came from. My best friend for the past 23 years, Jenny, is of Irish decent. In 1st grade, the first person I ever picked, for myself, as a friend, was Shannon Brown - about as Irish as they come. When I was born I was instantly friends with Alexis. Her mother and my mother were friends, therefore we did not have a choice, but have remained friends to this day.... Oh she is only half Irish, but it is a pretty big half. I had another childhood friend, Nicole, who, although she was Korean, was raised by Irish parents. In middle school there was Amy and Megan. When I was in High School, I became very good friends with Colleen, again, really Irish, really fun. Then I befriended Molly, Sue, and Jenny and then Melanie, Maureen, Shannon and Donna. All more Irish than the next. I am totally serious here. I am not making up random names. The list goes on. Just in the past few years I have become close friends with Michele, Katie, and just met a new friend, who I clicked with, Noreen; you guessed it, all Irish. Oh, I just made a new facebook friend, who is a blogger, and is... wait for it... Irish American! Her name is Bethany and her blog is www.4godsakesboys.com. She is a riot and an amazing story teller. (check her out) 


Although my friends share the same heritage, they have very different personalities, backgrounds, and life experiences. In trying to analyze this phenomenon, I have figured out the one thing that attracts me to them is that they let me be me. They don't seem to mind me. Most of them find me pretty amusing. I feel good being around them and they are all very easy going and thoughtful. Now I am not sure if these traits are specific to their Irish heritage or if it is just some amazing coincidence that all the women I ever let get close to me, share that heritage. We do have lots in common, agree on major stuff, and there is no competition between us. In that we like each other for the different ways we handle things. I am, well, kinda loud. When I say kinda loud, I mean overpowering. I lack tact. I am only 5 ft tall so I have a bit of a Napoleon complex and if you set me off, most people in the tri-state area will know about it. See, I am not that easy to get along with, because I don't have much of a filter. Also, I can be a real pain in the ass when it comes to controlling things, like driving, and planning, and conversations. I tend to control it all. But, hey, I am working on it. And if I did not control some things, it would not get done properly. (See what I mean?) I would not describe my current Irish besties as "loud," although they get their point across loud and clear and most importantly... They actually like me! I think I may be their comic relief. The quirky/crazy sidekick, in their particular sitcom. 


I really love my Mick girlfriends. They are beautiful, fun and full of life. They make me laugh and allow me to cry. My best friend Jenny, knows me as well as my husband does, (maybe better) and she still loves me. She allows me to be my messed up self and accepts me. She is the kindest most considerate woman I know and she is a ferocious protector of those she loves. She is not loud or demanding, but if you ever need to get something done or need help in any way, she is your perfect advocate. Michele, who is a more recent friend, is another person who allows me to be myself. She also accepts me and although she is not a loud mouth Italian, we have so much in common, it is scary. We both have been through very similar circumstances in our lives and lived to tell about it! She is extremely kind and more fun than you can shake a stick at. 


So there it is, my true confession of my love for Irish women! No matter what our heritage, us women need other women in our lives. We need to have that support system of people who do not judge us, or try to fix us, or condescend to us. We need fellow women to bounce ideas off of and hash out dilemmas. We need our girlfriends to lift us up and support us and tell us like it is without crushing us. Now I do have a husband who does all these things too. But it is different, in that I am IN love with him. So his support is a little more intimate. But my girlfriends, well, they give me strength. So, if I ever get to Ireland, I may never return! But only if I can bring my girlfriends with me!

Screaming Banshee Moms, UNITE!

Compass Study (Photo credit: Calsidyrose)

When I first became a mother, I read every book and consumed as much information as I could from the myriad of resources out there. I love me some Google!  The problem with Google is, you can find out ANY information out there but you have to know what you are looking for. It is the virtual compass. A compass does not tell you where to go it just gives you the direction you are heading. If you don't know where you want to go, a compass can not get you there. There are as many different parenting theories out there as there are parents. Trying to find my style was not as easy as I thought it would be. It still isn't. I feel like I go back and forth from doing what I know is right and resorting back to the screaming banshee that I find comes natural.

The "Screaming Banshee Mom", is only heard when she is yelling at the highest of decibels. 

She must repeat herself at least 5 times. 

She needs massive amounts of coffee in order to keep her moving. 

She will partially complete about 12 tasks a day, never fully completing any. 

She yells about her child's messy room, when the rest of her house is just as messy. 

Horrible life threatening accidents are constantly running a loop in her brain and she stresses about everything safety related when it comes to her children. 

She has no patience and will continually tell those around her that she has no patience for this/that/you/them. 

She slams things, doors, windows, pots, pans, glasses, utensils. 

She is constantly in need of a deep breath. 

NO one listens to her and everyone talks to her. 

Everyone needs her to do something; usually menial tasks, like putting something away, taking something out, wiping something/someone, cleaning something/someone, etc. 

Animals gravitate to her and want her attention also. 

She is a powerful adversary when it comes to those she protects but powerless when it comes to her own needs. 

She wistfully thinks of times when she was young, single and firm. 

Firmness alludes her and she is pissed. This pissed off feeling never goes away, especially when she sees young, single and firm people in her midst. 

She will bite your head off if you criticize her parenting skills. If you are her spouse, and you criticize, she will follow the biting of the head with a foot up your ass. 

She needs a break. Even in the middle of the night when she gets up to pee, her brain starts and does not stop. Always looking for ways to manage her time more efficiently. 

She murmurs to herself and answers her own questions, since no one will talk to her. 

When she screws up, she is infuriated that someone else didn't screw up. 

She yells at her children to "Stop Yelling!" 

She cries for her children to stop crying. 

She whines that her children whine. 

NOW, stop judging.

I used to judge these moms. Before I had children I thought "I will NEVER do that." Then I had children and I did that! 

We are not perfect moms. There is no such thing. Because even if you do everything right and you are consistent, kind, loving and patient - when they reach their twenties and see a therapist - your kids will still find a way to blame you for something.  Why not make it worth that therapist's while?

Don't get me wrong. I do not advocate for being a "Screaming Banshee Mom." 

Do I find it a problem that "Screaming Banshee Mom" comes to me so naturally? YES. 

Do I fight it on a daily/hourly basis? HELL YES. 

Does the "Screaming Banshee Mom" rear her ugly head every now and again? Most definitely! 

But, I figure it's not so bad because if my kids are going to therapy in their twenties anyway, at least, I am giving them something to complain about. None of this mamby-pamby "I didn't feel valued as a child" bullshit.  Lets go for the full force "My mother was a crazy screaming lunatic who talked to herself and was always putting her foot up my dad's ass!" THAT's therapy worthy. Let's give them something to talk about. Who's with me?

Screaming Banshee Mom's UNITE!

Parodies in Real Life

The Roman Catholic Church is being almost a parody of itself lately.  I mean how much more Python-esque can it get?  We have the ongoing Philadelphia Priest abuse trial. Right now it is on it’s 6th week.  Six weeks of damning testimony against Monsignor Lynn and against the Archdiocese in general. These “holy” men who admittedly shuffled around known pedophiles to parish after parish.   They protected these monsters until the statute of limitations ran out and then let them go.  Now they are living where ever they want.  Like across the street from playgrounds.  We also have another priest on trial, Fr. Brennan, who has ADMITTED to allowing a 14 year old boy watch porn on his computer, drink alcohol and then sleep in his bed with him.  This is what Brennan called    "borderline inappropriate" Borderline?  Really?  So when this child who is now a 30 yr old man says that Fr. Brennan did even more than what he admitted to, who are you going to believe?  Well, I for one believe the victim.  

Then we have the Vatican’s own, Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF) formerly know as Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Universal Inquisition (yes THAT Inquisition) writing a scathing report on one of their own.  NO one expects the INQUISITION!   In case you need to brush up on your history here the best take on the Inquisition. (The genius that is Mel Brooks)The CDF came down hard on those crazy do-gooder nuns.  They appointed a Bishop (who has a penis) to oversee these crazy “radical feminists.” Yes, these mostly older nuns who have long since stripped off their habits and taken their own names back. They are no longer forced into classrooms with 40 kids.  These new fangled crazy sisters work with the fringe of society, the poorest of the poor, the mentally ill, the old, the sick, the hungry, the teenage single mothers, the homeless and the dying . The Bishops deal with power these women deal with the powerless.  They do not tow the line of the Bishops and their political interests.  These nuns do not stand up and yell about contraception, abortion, school vouchers and fighting the Statute of Limitations for child victims of sexual abuse. They are too busy doing the work that.... well, Jesus did.  Helping those who need it the most.  They agreed with the Obama administration in passing the Health Care bill.  No matter where you stand on the issue, these nuns are caring for the very people whom the bill will help, the poorest of the poor.  So naturally the nuns would be for it.  But when this happened, the Bishops got very angry at these uppity nuns, who would not back them and their Republican agenda.  They were also angry that the nuns were making decisions on their own and not consulting them.  So what did they do...... issued the Inquisition! (No one expects the CDF!) The crazy radical nuns have 5 yrs to get in line, report to the good Bishop in charge of them, and do what they are told.  If not they can find another religion. Did the Vatican feel this strongly about it’s pedophile priests? Ummm NO,  they just tried to cover it up as much as possible.   I think it would have been much better if the Vatican issued the Inquisition on the nuns of over 35 years ago when they were beating the crap out of my generation and past generations.  They were the crazy ones!  Not all, but quite a few of them were vicious mean people.  

Then there is a Catholic school teacher who was having problems with infertility.  She was fired from her job, by the Monsignor, who called her a “grave, immoral sinner,” because she went through Invitro Fertilization Treatment.  This is a big no-no in the Catholic Church.  You can not create life in any other way but in the missionary position, in the dark, partially clothed and with a feeling of self loathing.  Oh and if you CAN get pregnant that way, don’t EVER prevent getting pregnant by using any form of contraception.   "Every Sperm is Sacred"  

So have I provided enough parody of the craziness?  Here is one more and it makes the most sense.  Dogma .  

Small Disclaimer:   I grew up with a sincere appreciation of Monty Python, Mel Brooks and the like.  It was completely my father’s fault.  He would let me stay up late just to watch certain Python clips or Brook’s movies.  SO if you don’t like my sense of humor, just remember to  “Always look on the bright side of life!” 

Get Away!

Ahhhh.  The Hub and I got away for a long weekend without the kids to celebrate our anniversary.  It was so needed. Not just for us but for the kids too.  We reconvened a much happier group.  The boys and our dog spent the weekend with my parents.  Nana and PopPop.  Nana and PopPop are rock stars.  They are the end-all and be-all of grandparents.  They are fun and take the boys everywhere they want to go.  They adore our children and our children adore them right back.  Nana and PopPop took the kids to the the local Wetlands Institute http://wetlandsinstitute.org/  where the boys got to pet flounder, skate, and horseshoe crabs. They also got to see an octopus get a crab out of a 2 liter soda bottle.  Very cool stuff.  They went to the beach and played in the sand and dug holes and chased the waves.  They ate good they slept good and had a wonderful time.  The dog even seemed happier.  She followed my father everywhere he went.  

The Hub and I went about 5 miles away from them to Cape May, NJ. We could fully relax and laughed a lot.  We laughed at the bed and breakfast we stayed in.  It was a little beat up and the coffee was horrible.  We also think that our inn keeper was pulling tubes on a daily basis.  We went to a bar and drank.  I can’t tell you the last time I sat at a bar and drank with my husband.  I think it was so long ago, you could still smoke at a bar.  We trash talked about people. We walked around the town and ate really good food.  We talked about how neither of us could imagine NOT having kids.  We revisited the possibility of adopting another.  Raising kids seems to give such a sense of love, a capacity of love that I never knew existed.   We sat on the beach bundled up in jackets and we laughed a lot.  

I have to say, I really, really like the man that I married 11 years ago. I think that he is probably one of the best human beings I know.  He is kind, funny and caring.  He is so smart and has accomplished so much in his life.  We talked about whether or not 11 years ago, we could have pictured where we are now, with 2 beautiful kids, a dog and a cat (the same cat my husband found in 1993!) I think that I pictured something like that when we got married. But before I met him, I could not in my wildest dreams, have pictured the wonderful life we have now.  I would have never thought that I would be this happy and in such a great place with such a great husband.  I was not a happy person for a long time.  I hid who I was and what I felt so that I would not feel vulnerable. I put myself in circumstances that made me miserable.  When I decided I was worth it, and started making changes, The Hub came along and renewed my faith in love.  I felt comfortable enough to be my authentic self with him.  He made me feel safe.  He still does.  

So if you have the opportunity, get away with the one that you love.  Remember why you fell in love.  Stop the normal rush and crazy of every day and take a day or two or three just to be together and laugh and joke and feel at ease.  There is nothing better.  We feel renewed and refreshed.  By the time we had to leave we missed the kids and were ready to see them.  I am not too sure the kids were ready to leave Nana and PopPop, but they seemed genuinely happy when we were all back together.   

I know this post is kind of sappy. But I did just get to spend three days and nights with one of my best friends who still turns me on and makes me laugh.  Three days without interruption, without distraction and with each other.  I am one lucky lady!  

P.S. Thank you Nana and PopPop!

Control - Who Needs It? - I DO!

I have control issues.  I tend to control everything.  This is not good for me because it tends to frighten people away and I like people.  I like having friends.  I also like my family and don’t want them to roll their eyes when they see me coming with my calendar and list.  I need to work on that among other things like refusing to be wrong.  I hate being wrong and maybe being in control helps me not be wrong.  Who knows?  I would love for one of my readers to be a psychoanalyst and give me some answers.  

Easter weekend was a busy one.  On Good Friday The Hub had off.  The group, Catholics 4 Change, were having a prayer service/demonstration for the survivors of sexual abuse by priests outside the Cathedral Basilica of St.s  Peter and Paul in Philadelphia.   The original plan was for all of us to go downtown, drop me off for the prayer service then go to Ben Franklin’s house so First Born can do some extra research on his ‘Biography of Benjamin Franklin’ project.   On Thursday Little One woke up crying with a sore throat and a fever.  Scratch the Friday plan, and I go by myself and Hub stays home with the kids.  (this was a discussion and decided the best thing to do...mostly by me) 

The prayer service/demonstration was moving beyond words.  The survivors who were there and spoke are the strongest people I know.  They want nothing but to have their voices heard and believed and for the lying from the Church to stop.  That is ALL they are after.  Standing outside in the bright sunshine, with that group of survivors and supporters, I felt closer to Heaven than I have felt in most churches.  

After the service I went to my car and called The Hubs.  When I call, he is in his car just leaving JimmyJohn’s Hotdogs. Through the phone, I hear our Little One in the back seat saying “Daddy, I tired, I gonna take nappys and if you see any choo choo’s, you wake me up. OK?”   This sent me reeling.  When I asked what they were doing, the Hubs says, “OH, we just got some lunch and now we are going to go to Ben Franklin’s House.”  I see red.  I was emotionally drained from the service.  I. Lose. My. Shit.  

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?  OUR SON IS SICK!  HE NEEDS A NAP! WE DECIDED NOT TO TAKE THEM DOWNTOWN TODAY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”  ( I said more, don’t want to kill you with the F bombs) 

Silence. Hubs says “OK, ok, fine, we will not go downtown. When is First Born’s project due?”   I say that I am not sure, a week or two, and he starts asking, “Well, when is it, one or two weeks?  Will we have another day to go down there?”  I inform my husband that I can not pull this information out of my ass at this present moment and that I have now decided to go to my parent’s house for lunch.  He says “OK I gotta go.”  GOOD!  

I took deep breaths and then spent a nice lunch with my parents.  I went to my grandmother’s house, hung out with her, made her dinner and cleaned up.  I finally got home about 7:30pm.  A 9 hour day without children..... Wow, I needed that.  

When I pulled into the driveway, Hub jokingly runs out the door waving his arms like a maniac, thanking me for coming home. This instantly makes me smile and ooze love for him. (there are certain things that he does to make me laugh that get me.... and he knows this!) The kids are in bed, Little One is asleep.  First Born is drifting off.   He shows me the kids bikes and how they went to the bike shop to get 4 new hand grips and a new tire for Little One’s bike that used to be First Born’s.  They had a blast. The Hub was telling me about how everyone was in love with Little One in the bike shop.  Little One is very animated, speaks well and although he is going to be 4 he is still wearing size 2T clothes.  He is a little pip-squeak with huge blue eyes and a messy mop of hair.  You can’t help but fall in love with this kid.  The Hub did not get Little One to nap, but he fell asleep easily enough at 7pm.  I decided that I need to let the control go and we go to bed.  

Fresh start, new day, Saturday before Easter.  I need to chill and let go of some control.  The Hub, hates more than anything to have nothing to do.  He dislikes being around the house.  We settle on the local Children’s Museum.  We decide to take First Born’s best friend J with us.  J lives across the street.  He is a riot and a lot of fun to have around.  J and First Born would live in the same house if they could.  Whenever they are both home, they are together.  It is endearing and I love that kid.  He makes me laugh and is so kind to our Little One too.

All are having a blast at the museum and The Hub and I confer that we want to get something to eat, like a late lunch/early dinner.  I am psyched that we are both on the same page.  The Children’s Museum is on the waterfront with some decent waterfront restaurants that I am looking forward to trying out.   At one point in the Museum, it is about 2:30pm we split up, me with Little One and Hub with the big kids.  About 20 minutes goes by and I am assuming that we are going to wrap things up pretty soon and head to a restaurant.  I go to look for the Hub and find him and the two boys sitting in the Museum cafeteria.  First Born is eating a hotdog and J is eating a piece of pizza.  I am trying to restrain myself and I say to Hub, “I thought we were going to go out to eat?”  He says, defiantly “We are.”   This is interrupted by Little One who wants pizza a a juice too.  Grrrrrrrrrr.  I am thinking to myself.  ‘OK, self you have a couple of options.  You could do what you always do and take over the situation, control the rest of the day and everything that goes on from here on out.  OR you could try to remain calm and let your husband, who is a grown ass man, handle the day, just relax and go along for the ride.’  (this is my inner-monologue font, incase you are wondering)  Against my better judgement and more along the lines of trying to rise above my control issues, I choose the latter.  

We stay at the museum and let the kids leave when they are ready. Translation: we stay too long until meltdowns occur.  We then take a walk along the waterfront (with no set plan, just a walk... with 3 boys... near water.... and old diesel trains. God help me! ) At 5pm everyone is hungry again so we go to the restaurant.  The Hub is feeling pretty proud of himself now as I was “wrong” in my assumption that no one would want to eat.  Can you see my eyes rolling?  

During dinner as it is getting later, I quietly remind my husband that we still have to buy, hard boil, color and (after the kids are in bed) hide eggs.  He looks at me, shocked and says, “You don’t have any eggs ready?”  This man has seen me and what I have done for the last 3 days and none of it involved hard-boiling a dozen eggs.    Calmly I said “No”  Then, again trying to remain calm and not taking over, I say, “Maybe we can just hide the plastic eggs that we have and not worry about dying real ones.”  His eyes did all the talking for him.  His look was a combination of astonishment, shock and disappointment.  So that was not happening.  

Leave dinner at about 6:30...mad dash to the Giant...take J home...Hub gets the kids washed, teeth brushed, in jammies and back down stairs while I hard boil eggs and prepare the coffee cups of egg dye... dye the eggs...put the boys to bed. Done by 8pm.  Whew!  Then the Hubs informs me that my Easter Bunny duties were a failure.  Meaning I did not get enough candy.  See, they each get a basket of candy and get to hunt for eggs (real dyed ones) at my parent’s house in addition to our house.  So the amount of candy is already too much and we have not even started.  Hubs says he is going BACK to the Giant to get more stuff.  At this point I am beat.  I decided to go to bed.  HE can do the baskets. HE can hide the eggs.  Since I was not in control of this day, I refuse to rush around anymore, like a lunatic, trying to get everything done that -had I been in control- would have gotten done 4 hours before.  When the Hub gets home, he looks at me in bed and says, “C’mon, we’ve got work to do!” Oh, he had no idea how close he came to being seriously hurt.   After all is said and done, it looked wonderful.  He did a great job and the kids were thrilled.  The rest of our Easter day goes off without a hitch. (Since we spent it at my parent’s house and they are in control of everything.)  

Then comes Monday.  The Hub has been working at Citizens Bank Park (Phillies Ball Park for you non-locals) for his company.  -----Side Note: He has been working ri-goddamn-diculos hours on this project for well over 4 months. Minimum of 10 hour days but mostly 12-14 hour days.  It has taken it’s toll on him.  His work is physically and mentally demanding. He is eating horribly, not sleeping enough, stressed, and OCDing more than usual. -------- We are huge Philadelphia sports fans.  So when one of the electrical contractors on his job, had offered him tickets to the opening day Phillies game, (Monday after Easter) we were excited.  

But nothing is simple when it comes to Hub’s work.  He informs me that we need to be at the Ballpark by 10am so that he can get his work pass.  (this means he is working during the game, uuhhggg)  Then we need to meet the electrical contractor at the their  tailgating spot in the parking lot so we can get the tickets for me and the boys.  The game starts at 1:30.  We get into the park about an hour and a half early.  The seats are awesome.  The Hub has to run around the ballpark and work but said that since we got there so early we would probably leave by the 5th inning.  Long story short (TOO LATE!) We don’t get out of there until about an hour after the game is over..... rush-hour, exiting the city with 40,000 other pissed off Phillies fans.  (we lost) Uhhgggg 

I am trying this whole time to be calm, go along for the ride, search for the positive.  But after the weekend of crazy, I am not holding together very well.  All this being said, our children are exhausted, hungry, and did I say exhausted?  The HOUR and half ride to get out of there was brutal.  That was met with a 6:30pm major hunger for boys who usually eat dinner at 5:30.  I demand we stop at the first place we see, which is a place called Nifty Fifties.  A diner like place with a 50’s style theme and 50’s style calories to match.  After the boys bellies are filled, we had another HOUR ride home.  Half way home, I started to crack up.... laughing uncontrollably.  The Hub looks at me and says “UH OH!” I am obviously not stable.  

When we get home, I look at the clock and realize we were out of the house and fairly active for 12 hours straight.  I then inform The Hub that from now on, he may come up with the family activity idea but we will carry out the details of said activity according to MY detailed plans, because none of us can handle another weekend like this one.  Control issues be damned, I am good at it.  He is not.  Oh and was I wrong for letting him take control? YES. Will I be wrong again?  NO!