tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78885367365501716742024-03-14T01:28:00.526-07:00LMo's Worldrandom thoughts and life experiences of a divorced, crabby, sarcastic, caustic mom of one.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-39204205549750388602012-01-24T12:38:00.000-08:002012-01-24T12:38:41.428-08:00Pavlov--yes, I'm your bitch apparentlyWhy is it that whenever I see an email from my ex in my inbox I get a visceral response akin to facing a lion alone in the wild. Hands get sweaty, heart starts racing, stomach tightens.....and I am instantly defensive and pissed, even before I open it.<br />
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How do I get over this?Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-68190646218457498952012-01-17T11:17:00.000-08:002012-01-17T11:17:06.055-08:00Random statements made by my child last nightBug was at his dad's for the weekend, and I picked him up after work last night. I usually pepper him with questions about how his weekend went, did he do anything fun, etc.; just trying to get him to start talking. So yesterday being MLK day, and me being all about the teachable moments (cough, yeah, right), I asked him if he knew why he didn't have to go to school that day. He replied, "Cuz it's Martin Loofer King Day." I then asked if he knew who that was, and he did not, but did know, "Well, he was a king!" <br />
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Ummm, no, his last name was King.<br />
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"So his mom must have been really rich if her son was a King, so I should call her up an' ask her for a million dollars. Can I have an iPod for my birthday?"<br />
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No, sweetheart, you're turning 7 you don't need an iPod.<br />
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"Well, its my birthday and I am the King on my birthday and so I am going to tell everyone to get together and give me an iPod. No, wait, I want an iPad. No, I know, they will get me a phone!"<br />
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You are not getting an iPad, I don't even have an iPad. And you will get a phone when you need one, like when you are 16 and are driving.<br />
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Such horror and disbelief is emanating from the back seat. Mother, you are SO unreasonable.<br />
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So, my life lesson from my son last night: my son is a demanding little punk. Not sure that was the message Dr. King was hoping to spread.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-89277340958037040482012-01-16T21:17:00.000-08:002012-01-16T21:17:14.249-08:00life s a divorcee momHey there. So today when I picked up R I was told that "because I had R for the long weekend, you can have him all week until Friday" which is when he picks him up for his normal weekend visit., He acts as if this is altruistic, but in essence, he is saying that the one extra day means he shouldn't have to drive the 23 miles to visit his son Tuesday and Thursday this week. I am fine with this, however R feels that this sucks...leaving me with the chore of saying why his father doesn't want to see him when he is scheduled. Such is the life of a divorced mom. but when the child then says that he wishes you hadn't divorced, one starts to question the choices made. And I realize, divorce sucks. For everyone involved. Regardless of intent, desire, or repercussions.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-44510313245940529752012-01-11T14:21:00.000-08:002012-01-11T14:21:10.998-08:00The joy of a dead batteryAs I have mentioned, my son is obsessed with a capital O with his Nintendo he received from Santa (watch the cookies at our house next year, old man). Well, I "forgot" to charge it for a few days (ahem) and last night after about a half hour of play the battery died. "Mom, can you plug this in for me?" Why certainly, son, but now what? And instead of asking to watch TV or play the Wii my delightful little baby boy said to me, "Mom, can we play Lego Ninjago?" And after we defeated the purple bad guy, he said, "and now, mom, can we play Skip-Bo?" And delightedly I said yes. After we finished with our fun and games, I looked at the clock, and saw that it was 45 minutes past his bed-time.<br />
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Well played, young man, well played.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-45038904507634130822012-01-10T12:57:00.000-08:002012-01-10T12:57:32.251-08:00my so-called ex-lifeOn September 11, 2007 my divorce was final, just shy of making it to four years. I was reading another blogger today (Rubber Chicken Madness, btw) who was revisiting her decision to divorce, and acknowledging that it was the right decision for her and it made me think: was divorce the right decision for me?<br />
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I will admit, had I stayed married, my depression more likely than not would have gotten so bad that I would not have been an effective parent. In fact, I'd probably be dead. Or he'd be dead and I'd be in jail (I jest). Suffice it to say I don't regret filing for divorce and kicking him out. But that is not what this post is about.<br />
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I do not co-parent well at all. Granted, my ex isn't all that great at it either. But the question at the forefront of my mind is why, after all these years, does he still piss me off so much? All it takes is one snarky email, one line in said email, that will send me over the roof and bother me for days? Why is it so bothersome to me that he has to have the last word? Or always be "right"? <br />
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Does anyone have the answer for me? How can I just let my ex-husband's words just roll of my back? Inquiring minds would love to know!Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-30094689190324218702012-01-05T14:17:00.000-08:002012-01-05T14:17:49.255-08:00The curse of the Nintendo DSAll my son asked for from Santa this year was a Nintendo 3DS and an X-Box 360. I say "all" like this is inconsequential, but he literally only asked for these two items. He's 6 and doesn't really get the concept of "several hundred dollars" when Santa's elves are making the crap in their workshop, thereby eliminating my "mommy doesn't have any money" defense. So I told my sweet cherub that if Santa asked I would tell him that he was <u><b>not</b></u> allowed to give him an X-box because he was not old enough, we have a Wii, and he doesn't need more time gaming. But the DS, that I could live with. Famous Last Words.<br />
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A bit of a back-story here: I have only allowed R to have LeapFrog electronic toys. He has a Leapster and a Didj, and a handful of math and spelling games to go with said hand-helds. And until this year, he was fine with those toys. This year's plan was to have Santa bring him the LeapPad. But then he looked at me with those big blue eyes and said, "but mommy, I want games that don't make me do math or read." So I acquiesced and "allowed Santa" to bring him the DS on Christmas morning.<br />
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Since the day after Christmas, I have had to take that G...D... effen thing away from him constantly because he becomes obsessed to the point where he doesn't do what he is supposed to do around the house. Or listen to me. OMG, so freaking frustrated. But today, today my friends, I hit my limit. First he wouldn't get dressed (cartoons made him comatose and unable to dress himself apparently). So after telling him a dozen or more times to get dressed over a 30 minute time frame, he's dressed. Then I finally get him into the car and he has his DS in his hand. We go to school, he gets out of the car, no backpack. Where's your backpack R? I don't know, I couldn't find it. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???? So busy was he playing Madden Football that he forgot his backpack. So back in the car we go, drive home, I calm the dogs down AGAIN, put his DS on top of the fridge, grabbed his backpack, and got back in the car. And that is when I unloaded on him big time (this is why I don't spank, I have absolutely no control). My rant went something like this:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">All you have to do in the morning is get dressed, brush your teeth, grab your backpack and get in the car. You failed today to do even ONE of those things without me having to ask you a dozen times. NOT ONE! And all because of this DS. From now on, consider the DS a library book. You have to wait to use it until I have determined you have earned the right to play and it must be surrendered to me when I determine it is due. In addition, since you obviously have forgotten how to get dressed and watch TV at the same time, the TV will remain off until you are COMPLETELY ready for school, down to hair and teeth being brushed. </blockquote><br />
Oh yea, completely stellar mom-moment there. I was so pissed off, and reading this, I'm thinking it is not so much the content, but rather the delivery of the message that I consider the mommy-fail. But the kid threw his shirt at me and asked, "do you expect me to wear this jersey without a shirt underneath?" Umm, yes, it's going to be 76 degrees today and you have a jacket in your backpack. Wait, did you just THROW YOUR SHIRT AT ME?????" So in a period of 40 minutes all of this occurred and I just flipped the shit out. <br />
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Sorry for the all-over-the-place post, but that's how I've felt all day after this cluster of a morning. Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-72986632208946040012012-01-04T16:02:00.000-08:002012-01-04T16:02:42.078-08:00My vow for 2012If I had an "audience" who read this blog, I'd probably be more likely to actually blog. However, journaling is supposedly cathartic, and should be for the unloading of emotional burdens and not to humor vast numbers of "followers" so I vow this: I will put something up on this here little slice of the interweb on a weekly basis if not more often. More likely than not I'll be slamming my ex, or telling you something disgusting the kid or the dogs did, and you'll think to yourself, "self, based on her life (or lack thereof) yours really isn't all that sucktastic." And that will be my gift to you, my non-existent readership. You are welcome.<br />
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So if there is anyone who stumbles across this here little blog o'mine, riddle me this: boy you were in LOVE with in junior high finds you on FB, tells you his marriage is over, and wonders if we could you know, "rekindle" what we had (you know, hand holding with sweaty palms under the bleachers at football games).........do you do it, or not? Remember you are single and haven't had sex in a year--I think that's a relevant fact to be considered.....you don't want your lady-bits drying up and blowing away, do you?<br />
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Happy New Year!Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-38063095331762221452011-04-21T18:36:00.000-07:002011-04-21T18:37:44.889-07:00What Mother Nature can teach usI work at an office complex that borders a man-made lake. Many geese and ducks inhabit the lake, and about 5 weeks ago, the ducks and geese began to build their nests. A mama goose and her mate (they mate for life, did you know?) decided the perfect place to build their happy home was right outside the door to my suite. I watched her as she built the nest in a planter, with her mate standing guard the whole process. Then she settled in and laid her eggs. Her mate was constantly hovering around, protecting her from anyone who dared ventured close to see how she was progressing. Then one day her mate was gone. He had been hit by a car in the parking lot, and now she was alone. On a nest of her babies. With no one to protect them. I watched her every day, stopping by to ask how she was doing, amazed at her fortitude. Could I be that kind of mom? Could I, with the absence of all support, give birth to and raise a gaggle of kids? To sit on that nest for a month without giving thought to myself, MY needs? The sad answer to that was no.<br />
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I don't know whether as a human I am naturally selfish, if Mother Nature has embedded animals with the need to procreate that rises above the narcissism I feel every day that it is all.about.me. But I can tell you that every day I saw that mama goose sitting on her nest without fail, I was saddened by my own weakness and strengthened by her resolve.<br />
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Her babies hatched last Friday. 5 cute and fuzzy little goslings. She let us get up close and take pictures, probably because she was used to us passing by every day. But she was clearly on guard.<br />
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Today I found them swimming happily just off shore of our little lake and I was so proud of her for being so strong.<br />
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I can only hope I too can be that strong.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-47242590352181393942011-02-25T19:58:00.000-08:002011-02-25T19:58:41.894-08:00slumlordI own a home. Well technically BofA owns my home, but whatever--semantics. The house is way to large for me and the kid, by several thousand square feet. The cost of just keeping it cool/warm was killing me financially, so last year I decided to rent it out and move into a rental closer to work and family. The result was a nasty custody battle, several episodes of anxiety attacks, and financial distress, but here we are, a year later. I am in a rental that while I am not in love with the house, it's everything I need and allows R to attend a great school with his cousins. And I have tenants. Who feel that paying their rent on time is not really as important as I do. So here it is, the end of the month, and still no rent from the tenants. Today was their last day to pay or I'd evict. I'm almost hopeful they don't because I'd love to evict them and then short sell the house. I'll never live there again, and I'll never see the price I've got it mortgaged to.....but I am certain they will pay at the last minute, thus again keep me in the position of landlord once again.<br />
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Sigh.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-36939796979363566912011-02-24T18:28:00.000-08:002011-02-24T18:28:35.858-08:00good lordwhile playing monster truck jam on the Wii, R (driving as the girl) "turns his truck over"<br />
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The BF: Just like your mom<br />
R: Yeah just like my mom, turns over all the time.<br />
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WTF????Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-73864801780447159072011-02-23T18:35:00.000-08:002011-02-23T18:35:05.370-08:00regressionMy kid has been potty trained for what seems like forever (he is six after all). I had a mommy manifesto whereby as of his 6th birthday I would no longer wipe his butt after a "number 2"--I was tired of hearing "MOOOOOOOMMMMM, I'm done." every time he pooped. so we prepped and taught how to wipe and magically, before the 6th birthday, he started wiping his own stinky butt. Fast forward to this week, where the kid is totally incapable of wiping his own ass. And the shit spread all over his bathroom due to his disgusting habit of sticking his finger up his butt to see if it's clean (WTF??????????????). So after many underwear changes and bathroom scrub-downs, I've decided that I have to demand wiping rights to be returned to me.<br />
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Now the kicker...he's with his dad 3 weekends a month (my judge sucked) so I figured we'd commiserate and brainstorm solutions together. Only, his dad swears R is the perfect pottier at his home. Is it possible that a child can exhibit a behavior regularly daily, but on the weekends he's with his dad he's perfect? I can't believe it. When I was a kid, when I went to my mom's for the weekend, I was totally myself. Which means I was a total shit. But I knew she had guilt for not maintaining custody and I used that to my advantage. I was a few years older than R, but still, he knows. And the fact that his dad refuses to either admit that there is some regression or in denial that there is makes this "co-parenting" thing a real pain in the ass.<br />
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How do people do this??? Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-26897462178461748272011-02-22T17:08:00.000-08:002011-02-22T17:08:02.362-08:00Being femaleThis is the time of year when I get all test female out of the way. Last week was the oh so fun PAP smear (came back clear, yay!), today was routine bloodwork and the ever enjoyable mammogram. I am convinced they can find a way that doesn't involve smooshing one's breast into a pancake, but I know how important these things are, so I comply with a smile and a thank you to the tech. Tomorrow I undergo my eye exam where I will be told (again) that I really need bi-focals, and this time I will probably comply. I hate not being able to see well enough to watch tv with enjoyment or play wii with the kid.<br />
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What's your "favorite" annual exam?Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-91956059689389619392011-02-21T19:46:00.000-08:002011-02-21T19:46:07.454-08:00Ah, fun with TwisterMom, I was playing a game with B and C (cousins) where you spin the thing and it tells you what color to put your hands and feet on. You don't need to know how to read, R means right and L means left. It's easy. I love the Twisters."<br />
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Alrighty then. Think he's ready for college.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-58321549074073086952011-02-21T06:58:00.000-08:002011-02-21T06:58:13.850-08:00Happy Birthday, Mr. PresidentGood times in the Mo household. Picked up R late from his dad's so they wouldn't have to rush through dinner. yes, I am that ex-wife who does whatever he asks to just fucking keep the peace.<br />
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Anyway, we get home and R demands something or the other in his typical dictator fashion. I turn to him and I say, "Am I your slave? Didn't Abraham Lincoln abolish slavery? Go get it yourself." <br />
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and you know what??? He did.<br />
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amazing.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-26338310692221622842011-02-20T10:04:00.000-08:002011-02-20T10:04:36.157-08:00paintingI am not a domestic goddess type of person. I'm a hire a maid even though I live in a shoe box kind of person. That being said, the BF bought a house that needed some work and since he'll be living with me and R in said shoe box until it's habitable, I offered up my services to get it moving along. <br />
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This brings us to yesterday, painting day. I have, in my 42 years on this planet, painted one wall one time. And I hated every freaking second of it. And I had help! So yesterday when tasked with painting 2 bedrooms and a hallway, I quite honestly was rather annoyed that I had volunteered. But I am a girl of my word, so I boldly went where I don't like to go, roller in hand. I still hated every second of it, and I still suck at it, but I did it. The results showed my lack of skill (how the hell does the paint not stick to the freaking wall??? Aha, BF just informed me that he got the cheap paint--2 coats minimum). <br />
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He worked too, don't get me wrong. "Fixing up a house is a marathon, not a sprint." thanks, genius. Having my work critiqued also didn't help my mood.<br />
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At the end of the day, after 6 or so hours of painting, coat one was on and drying. And I'm not volunteering again for that chore. <br />
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And I will never paint a wall again. Its good to have goals :-)Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-35184065222576427352011-02-17T19:27:00.000-08:002011-02-17T19:27:38.060-08:00bedtimeusually, bedtime is not a big deal here. R gets his story, I lay with him for a few minutes, and then all is well in everyone's world. But occasionally we have nights like tonight. The refusing to brush teeth, listen to direction nights that drive me to drink. Add to that the BF's philosophy on raising children (tonight's pronouncement of "you're screwing him up" was a nice touch), and it leads to a rather stressful nighttime situation. R crying, "Mom, you're not listening to me." BF saying, "he's not doing what he's supposed to do, so put him to bed and walk away." And my mom instinct which says, "get the boy to brush his teeth and take his allergy medication." sigh. lots of tears and slamming of doors in my house this evening. Here's hoping tomorrow goes more smoothly.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-40397212159145575242011-02-14T20:58:00.000-08:002011-02-14T20:58:11.645-08:00Valentine's DayGrowing up, Valentine's day was the day you told the boys in your family how much you loved them. Being the only girl, that meant a gift for my dad and two brothers to be placed on their dinner plates that evening. Such pressure for a young girl. Today, I get a gift for my parents and my son, and of course something for the BF, S. My dad gets me a gift every year, and my mom gets my son something as well. The point of the tradition is to show those we love that we are thinking of them on this Hallmark holiday. In my heart, I'd rather ignore this day, thinking it to be such a commercial mess that shouldn't be acknowledged. But my son has to do valentines for every kid in his class, so I can't ignore it. And at my core I am a romantic who wants to give my significant other more proof that I love him. So I continue the tradition started in my youth. I do have to admit, my son felt entitled, "where are my presents?; and my BF was "you got me a Valentine's gift????" both felt right to me. My dad gave me a lovely bouquet of flowers, so I did receive something. but in all honesty, today felt more like a giving day than a receiving day. Is that a sign that I am maturing or a sign that I have given up on the hope of anyone giving me something just out of love (other than my dad)? A question for the ages, I guess.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-11224623230604860952011-02-11T21:29:00.000-08:002011-02-12T16:11:30.160-08:00I think I've forgotten...........how to relax. I've got the entire weekend to myself, just me and all the four-legged creatures, and I find myself at a loss as to how to just "be". I have a list as long as my arm of chores I need to do around the house, so that might be part of the problem, but honestly, I can't even sit down and enjoy my book. When I do, I look around the house and think, "self, you need to dust and vacuum", and immediately the book is no longer relaxing. Perhaps I need to schedule in mandatory "me time" in which there is no using of cleaning products for a determinate amount of time.<br />
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I'll get right on that, just as soon as I put that next load of laundry in.<br />
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sigh.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-89665602561354449512011-02-11T15:57:00.000-08:002011-02-11T15:57:07.255-08:00A weekend aloneAs I sit here attempting to recover from the Kindergarten Valentine's Day party (whoever decided that sugaring kids up and letting them loose on unsuspecting mom-volunteers to do various crafts was a good idea must die), I'm looking back at my day with wonder.<br />
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When I was pregnant, I found a group of moms on Baby Center (BBC.com) who had Jan. '05 due dates as well. there were probably 30 or so moms who visited regularly, and we continued to "chat" as our babies grew into toddlers, sharing and enjoying each others milestone moments with our wee ones. We also felt comfortable enough with each other to share the struggles and minefields that come with parenthood. We migrated to Facebook, this group of moms and I, and have continued to share our lives with each other there. I got to meet two of these wonderful "InvisiFriends" today for lunch. It was awesome. It felt honestly like we had been friends forever, even though we had never heard each others voices before. It was so easy to just talk about the joys and not so joyful travels through parenthood; our crazy pets, etc. These women were there through my divorce, and all the trials and tribulations that went with that. I can honestly say that the women I met today, and all of the other women with whom I have developed virtual friendships are just as important to me and loved by me as those friends who can sit on my sofa on a Saturday night. It is a wonderful feeling.<br />
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I am glad I joined the January baby boards back in 2004 on BBC. It has made my life much richer for the experience.<br />
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And now I look at the next two days stretched before me. No child (he's with his dad), no boyfriend (he's visiting friends), no plans (except for the darn oil change tomorrow)........whatever will I do with all of this alone time? Let's see:<br />
1. Do 25 loads of laundry<br />
2. pooper-scoop so the dogs don't eat their own shit<br />
3. Homework<br />
4. Housework of the scrubbing variety (how do boys NOT pee into the toilet????)<br />
5. Grocery shopping<br />
6. Organize my sock drawer (I spent 10 minutes this morning looking for a pair of socks!!)<br />
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OK, so I think I just figured out that my alone time is going to be spent channeling my inner Cinderella. At least I won't be interrupted every 5 minutes with, "Mom, will you play with me?"<br />
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Always good to find the bright side of things :-)Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-24498701651765013482011-02-11T08:35:00.000-08:002011-02-11T08:35:22.819-08:00god dangitI swear to god I still smell the poop. And I'm at work!?! W.T.F?????<br />
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And R thought it was freaking hilarious that the puppy ate his own poop. Just praying that he doesn't try to do the same.<br />
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Ewww, I think I just puked a little in my mouth. Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-25875956664391506202011-02-11T07:36:00.000-08:002011-02-11T07:36:50.660-08:00yes, I am this immatureR: "Mom, wouldn't it be funny if S had a horse?"<br />
Me: "Yes, especially since he doesn't ride horses."<br />
R: "Well, then, what does he ride?"<br />
Me: Snort, snicker, chuckle..."ummm, sometimes a bike?"<br />
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I am so not an adult :-)Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-21169632017099400902011-02-11T06:35:00.000-08:002011-02-11T06:35:53.922-08:00The last 12 hours9:30 pm, hit the sack.<br />
12 a.m., wake up to the stench of dog shit<br />
12:15 am, scrubbing bedroom floor of poo schmear, as the puppy ate his own shit right after taking previously mentioned dump.<br />
1:45 am, still awake and still smelling poop<br />
3:45 am, still awake, still smelling poo and now my child enters my room to stare at me. Knowing S has to get up at 4 to catch his flight, I tell R to jump into my bed.<br />
5 am, still awake, still smelling shit, R is sleeping horizontally on the bed with his feet in my back, the puppy is sleeping on my legs and the other dog is at the foot of the bed.<br />
5:30 am, still awake, still smelling that god-awful shit smell--where the hell is it coming from?, the dogs are on the bed taking up a lot of room, the kid is doing acrobatics in his sleep. Crap, might as well get up.<br />
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Ends up the poo smell is my son's breath mixed with the puppy's breath. Lovely.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-62962393154562283432011-02-08T19:35:00.000-08:002011-02-08T19:35:47.098-08:00my lifeR: Mom, you need to find Shoe (stuffed horse).<br />
Me: It has to be in your bed, buddy.<br />
R: It's not, I swear<br />
Me: Oh look, here it is behind your pillow. I am magic.<br />
R: No you aren't. You didn't find it, I did. ...<br />
Me: Oh no, I am so magic.<br />
R: No you aren't. You are just lucky. <br />
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such is my life :-)Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-11490766954392317892011-02-08T18:11:00.000-08:002011-02-08T18:11:52.683-08:00ramblingsMy child cracks me up. I know most moms have that feeling, but oh.my.god. does he ever come off with some great one liners. I love that about him.<br />
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The boyfriend is currently working on making his newly purchased home livable. Considering he has no experience in such things as remodeling a home, I am so very impressed by his abilities and subsequent results. When I told him this today, he seemed shocked, but in all seriousness, he took this place from a cat-pee smelling hole to an amazing place. And he's only halfway done. He gets an idea and he just goes for it; somehow he just knows he can do this. Such the opposite of me. I look at a task and immediately assume that there is no way I can accomplish said task. Defeated before I even start. He just rolls up his sleeves and <i>does</i>. How I envy that.<br />
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Back to the kid. I signed him up for karate. He left the house in the morning expecting to be able to return to the homestead with the ability to "karate chop the whole house"--ummm, you are a white belt novice, young jedi. Give it some time. When I picked him up and asked him how it went, he said, "It was so boring mom. We learned to punch, kick, and about stranger danger. Totally boring." Ummm, you learned to punch and kick, where is the boring in that? Apparently he was sorely disappointed in the lack of kicking ninja butt instruction he received. Too funny.<br />
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Now we are doing the class valentine writing. He's not really friends with anyone in his class, his best friends are all in other classes in his school, so getting him to complete this task is painful for both of us. I'm thinking a few a day is the best way to get this task accomplished.<br />
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Okay, time to go back to being a mom. Yay, me :-) Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7888536736550171674.post-4415188626228031212011-02-01T13:09:00.000-08:002011-02-01T13:09:39.734-08:00diet patrolI would have to say that one good thing about owning a Great Dane with a sweet tooth is knowing that you will not be able to enjoy the leftover birthday cake that is left on the counter. <br />
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I think he gets kickbacks from my Weight Watchers leader.<br />
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Damn them.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179561590031598297noreply@blogger.com0