Parental Guidance

Well, I’ve had the talk with the Girl...The “coming of age” talk that every mother and young girl should have and sometimes never do. I can understand why. It’s hard to break the news to them...

The fact that girls can be bitches. In fact, I know someone, who’s mother told her at the age of ten, “women are bitches, and you’re one of them”.

I tried a little different approach with Girl. Basically, at the age of ten, and after her having a rough day, I said to her : “Girls can be bitches, and you are a girl. You can either be a bitch, or not”. But I let her know, they are out there, and they are not, have not, and will not go away. I also let her know, they don’t necessarily grow out of it. This is why I likened it to the other “Talk”. Kind of like...”yeah....well, yeah. Sorry. There’s some bat-shit crazy bitches out there, oh yeah, and by the way, that cramping/vomitting/diarrhea/emotional production you just had back there..it’s coming again. A lot. Sorry about that. Off to swim practice!!”

It blows blows blows blows blows. BLOWS to have to do that to them. She’s 10 years old. I was still acting out how Jane ran with the red ball with my Barbies at the age of 10. Not dealing with this crap. Everyday I send her off to school, I feel like instead of handing her backpack to her, I’m hanging chum buckets around her head and dropping her off in open water. There’s some crazy ass people out there raising some crazy ass kids. Seriously. (I’m secretly wondering if there’s someone writing right now these very thoughts, but instead of me picturing certain people, I’m like, in their line-up too) No matter..I have my own shit to worry about.

I have two great kids that have their own list of issues. They do. Keeps me up at night sometimes.. It does. But, they don’t go around doing weird shit like stealing other peoples things, or peeking in bathroom stalls, or spitting or kicking (unprovoked) or lying . What I mean is, they tow the line at school. They do. They screw up here at times, and at other’s who are family or like family. But that’s normal. We all walk around showing each other our asses in the household like a bunch of fucking baboons, but typically, manage to hold it together in public. Truly, they are pretty good at home too. However, they are so good at school, I’m surprised they haven’t come home one day and had a meltdown of such epic proportions that CNN would have been involved.

I try to teach them manners and right and wrong and what’s flexible and what they just shouldn’t let me catch them doing. I do. And then I drop them off at The Reef with open cans of tuna strung around their neck, and off they GO! They come back from their excursion with “stories”. “SO and SO had to go to the Principal’s office today”. Oh yeah??? “Uh huh...yeah.” So, with my interrogation skills that’d I’ve honed in my years with the CIA..I probe: “So, what’d she do?” Ok...That was sarcastic. Because you can NEVER ASK SUCH A SIMPLE AND DIRECT question to an eight year old boy. You literally have to provide every scenario that another 8 year old could possibly pull in class warranting a trip to the Principals’s office, like flashcards, or a flowchart almost, until the Boy is like “YEAH! YEAH! She did stop listening, and was not participating in the discussion and would not go when told and so, YEAH!! THAT’S IT MOMMY! She DID then pick up a chair and threw it across the room. And then four other teachers had to come and help remove her from the class. But mommy? You left out the part where our class was moved to Mrs. Johnson’s class when they came to get her.”

WHAT? STUPID me!! I haven’t incorporated an Evacuation Plan For When Shit Gets Weird in my list of possible scenarios for my “How Was Your Day At School?” Flashcards for my 2nd grader.

And then, I honestly try the good Motherly route like “Wow, that must have been weird for you..were you scared? How about her? She must have been having a real bad day. Let’s just hope she’s ok and things work out ok for her.” You know, trying to teach compassion and empathy and wah wah wah bwah bwah bwah. Because that’s what I’m supposed to do. Sometimes compelled, even. I mean, I’m really not trying to throw stones here. I’m not.

However. I am also charged with being a Mother FIRST to my assignments. And so, that is why my shit gets riled when others start affecting my kids. My daughter had things stolen from her. In her classroom. Other’s did too. Nice lesson at ten, no? If I need to send even $2 into the class for something, I have to write a check, because of this “problem”. That’s annoying. Do I feel concern for this child? The one who’s stealing? You bet. I do. And I’ve voiced those concerns. As I have about several concerning things that happen. However, I also don’t care to have my children be the practice playthings for a bunch of kids as they work out their social/emotional skills in the meantime. “Uh..Mr. Principal? So and So spit in Girl’s hair today and I believe kicked the girl sitting next to Girl in the shin.” Mr. Principal: “Uh yes, here at School Amazing, we have a diverse population of children of many social and emotional backgrounds stemming ............................ diverse and unique somewhat haphazard and diverse styles of ..................................and we need to be conscious of the needs of these special ............................Thanks for coming in.”

In the meantime, the kids that fly under the radar are being bounced around like the big red rubber things one might see in a Gorilla House at the Zoo when peering through the shit smeared window as these “.............................kids” practice socializing. The shit that they should be learning at HOME.

(ooooooh the VIEW from my SoapBox is amAZing!! I can see Bitter Valley, The River of Contempt, oh and look, it’s Mt. Apathy....as far as the eye can see!!!!)

Oh God...it doesn’t end with the kids. It’s the adults too, because the Boy just came home and informed me that they have now started putting mashed potatoes in the chicken noodle soup. He had a pretty sad look on his face. “You don’t go and mess with chicken noodle soup”, the face says. He goes on to describe “the mashed potatoes have hair in it”. “Hair?” I say. “Yes, hair. Lots of it. I’ve had it just alone before and there is always just these long hairs in it.” He then proceeds to pantomime what it’s like, finding said hairs. It kind of looks like someone pulling a piece of spaghetti out of their mouth really far, before they would slurp it back in. Minus the slurping back in part.

He seems to be ok though, he’s moved on because he’s now asking me what I think the Mad Hatter’s toenails might look like, or Yoda naked...so...that’s kind of weird. But he’s not hurting anybody.

I’m just trying my best with these two. And I hate it when others are messing with their world. I guess that’s part of life though..learning that there’s some bitches out there, and you can either be one or not.

The Things I've Missed Out On

Let me preface this by saying that I will not be dedicating all future stories to the Dog. There are plenty of other weirdnessesesesss' out there, but this one just happens to start with the dog.

It's come to my attention that there seems to be several, if not, multiple things that have slipped my notice over the years. Things that would appear common knowledge to my fellow peeps, it seems.

The most recent revelation? Apparently my Dog has anal glands. And I'm assuming he must have 2 of them, as he has 2 butt cheeks, but I didn't ask. And I suppose all dogs have these anal glands.

From Wikipedia: (warning the contents you are about to read may not be suitable for small children, those taking blue pills on Tuesdays and my Husband)

In dogs, these glands are occasionally referred to as "scent glands", because they enable the animals to mark their territory and identify other dogs. The glands can spontaneously empty, especially under times of stress, and create a very sudden unpleasant change in the odor of the dog. Dog feces are normally firm, and the anal glands usually empty when the dog defecates, lubricating the anal opening in the process. When the dog's stools are soft they may not exert enough pressure on the glands, which then may fail to empty. This may cause discomfort as the full anal gland pushes on the anus. The glands can be emptied by the dog's keeper, or more typically by a groomer or veterinarian, by squeezing the gland so the contents are released through the small openings on either side of the anus. Discomfort is evidenced by the dog scooting its posterior on the ground (commonly referred to as "butt-dragging"), licking or biting at the anus, sitting uncomfortably, difficulty sitting or standing, or chasing its tail.

I'm just going to let you know right now that I did not read the above passage. I just made the Girl go to Wiki and copy and paste for me, so I hope she looked up the correct word.

But I like my readers to be informed...

So. The reason I know that Dog had anal glands is because he took a trip to the Groomers! Whipppeee! Ok. I now have a dog, that involves littleness, clothes, and a need for grooming. If you've read my earlier story about Dog, you'll have learned that he has hair issues. He is a terrier/poodle mix, and his hair looks pubic-esque. I really never thought grooming was in his future until the day the "Tuft" arrived. He has the kind of tail that curls up. And I kind of started noticing that the hair around his anus or "butthole" was beginning to grow a ring or tuft of hair around it that you just SIMPLY could not stop staring at. I stood out like a little shrub. But, I never said anything. Until I think..well, I'm not sure who brought it up first, me or Husband, but one of us threw the Tufty Elephant in the Living Room out on the the carpet to be discussed. Basically, Husband said he couldn't "Deal" because it was so "weird" and he was "getting to point where he couldn't walk him anymore because he couldn't....deal".

The Tuft had to go. We discussed our options. I tossed a few ideas around in my head for a few seconds. Plus, he kind of smelled like cornchips. I called the Groomers. We had an appointment at 2:30.

We roll up, me, Dog, Boy, Girl. We have absolutely NO idea what to expect. They go over the basics.

They are going to : (the following are all the Groomer's words)

give him a bath clean his ears express his anal glands give him a cute teddybear cut around the face get rid of his little beard he's got going and totally ages him smooth out the hair on his body trim the hair on his tail and cut his nails.

Now, simultaneously we have TWO things going on here. I just want the Tuft gone and it has yet to be addressed, and right at the VERY beginning, did she just say something about anal glands??

So, I decided I'm on a mission, a need to know kind of mission, and I need NOT know about anal glands, so I 180 Dog around and say :

"We really need to address the Tuft on his butthole"

Girl just groans, Groomer is just like "Sure!! Come back in 3 hours!!!"

3 hours?? Yeah, sure, Ok, whatev.

45 bones...Dog looked awesome...I mean, he really did. Tuft was gone, clean as a whistle. I'm assuming the glands were able to be expressed. How liberating for everyone.

Now, about this whole anal gland thing. Apparently, EVERYONE IN THE WHOLE WORLD knows that dogs have them. Because as I was relating this story to people they're all like, "yeah, they have these things in their butts!! Makes 'em SCOOT!!"

And I'm wondering why I never heard of this before. Where was I?

1 year in the back of an ambulance, 12 years in surgery, you'd think I'd pick up on some sort of anatomical dog talk. I'd think. Right? Hell, I don't know...

There have been others.

I recently figured out who "Mommy" was kissing when she was kissing "Santa Claus".

I'm 35. Just put 2 and 2 together.

IT MAKES DADDY!!!!!

Then, there was this one time, I grabbed this book that looked awesome. So I read it in like, 4.2 hours. And I was going around telling everyone about it, how great it was, and, wow, you should READ THIS!!! It's a great story! You never want it to end!!! Have you read it??

The Thorn Birds?

No...nope, guys. NO. I did NOT know it was made into a wildly popular movie.

Oh well, it's all good. Makes life still interesting..

I got the Dog home from the Groomers. He smelled awesome, he looked good.

Husband still made fun of him. And as the Dog has no sense of personal space, he managed to get peed on his head by Boy as he was using the toilet. This happened 4 hours after we got home.

~B

My Name Is Becky, And I Own A Little Dog

I was thinking today of Zack. It's been a year since he died. Still makes my heart squeeze in a not so good way, and makes my stomach squishy when I think about him.

Of course, when he died, I wanted another dog immediately. Not to replace him, but I needed that dog-ness around. It was an ache. But I got vetoed.

Until July 3rd.

Everyone, except me, wanted a little dog. An ankle-biting, quivering, yipping inbred dog. And I've never really been a fan of that breed. At all. But, I wanted a dog, so I started the search. We (the boy and girl and myself) did vast web searches for the perfect dog. And we looked at a lot of little inbred dogs.

But I came across this video of this little spazzy dog.

And. I. Fell. In. Love.

Jet.

His name is Jet. And he was at a rescue in Poland, Indiana. Bring the jokes...buh-RING 'EM!!

We've actually deemed him a Polish Terrier just because we are tired of trying to explain what he is to all the other parents at obedience school. Husband has also determined him to be a Pubic Terrier as an homage to Jet's hair issue.

But...let's go back.

I drive the kids 2 1/2 hours away to Poland, dealt with customs and what-not, and picked the lil guy up. He was everything I never wanted in a little dog. I didn't want a little dog. But I wanted him. 300 bones for a rescue dog. Yeah, I know..wha???

9 pounds. Full grown at a year old.

It's like having a permanent newborn baby, except, you know..different.

We get home. The next 10 days and $200 in vet bills were spent dealing with Kennel Cough. We had no idea what kind of personality our PubicPolish Terrier had, as he slept. All the time. Jet was quite ill.

Day 10, the switch turned on. The BELL RANG! HE WAS HEALED!!!!

It was also gametime. We had a TERRIER!!

Some people call him "cute". I've heard "pitiful, but cute". And perhaps he looks a little rough. Husband just flat out calls Jet "ugly" TO HIS FACE!!! Everytime Husband does this I play "Beautiful" by Christina Aguielera just to build his esteem up from the "hater". But Jet has street cred. He did time in the pound, the humane society AND then the rescue. And he was only 1. Jet rocks. And he knows it. He OWNS it.

We're still working on manners.

Mostly..he likes to jump on your head eat chewies while sitting on you peeing pooping terrorizing the cat chewing things peeing pooping drinking out of toilet chewing the cat peeing pooping mopping the floor with the cat running from you chewing peeing pooping standing on tables peeing and pooping. But he's working on it.

His hair.

His hair issue requires...clothing. And once I started, I kind of had a hard time stopping. Because he wears his clothing SO well. Lil guy gets cold, so he owns a few jackets, a t-shirt for mild days, a Snuggie (just to irritate Husband) and then there is the pumpkin costume. Other than that...

He cries when the kids go to school all Lassie like. He loves ALL kids. A lot. We had a humping phase which prompted an "explanation" as to what "humping" is and that it is NOT "funny/cute".

Anyways...I know you don't all give a shit about A Girl And Her Dog...but I do. I think Zack would have just log-rolled him around, but he'd dig him.

My name is Becky..and I own a little dog.

Weird

So, it's about 20 minutes after putting the boy and girl to bed. They are like litter mates, and still sleep together most nights. Get over it.

Girl comes out to find me and starts talking :

Girl: So, mommy? I was just about to fall asleep, and as usual, weird things pop into my head. Scary things, and now I can't fall asleep, but I don't want to tell you about it.

At this point, 5,267 items that qualify as "weird/scary" come to my mind.

Me: Well, why don't you try to tell me, I swear it will make you feel better to get it out of your head.

Girl: Well, I don't feel comfortable telling you.

(I'm thinking now, of like 4,963 more things, wondering if I should have the police nearby, you know, to take a report)

Me: I think you should try, honey.

We spend the next 5 minutes in negotiations..

Girl: Well, ok. I know this is wrong, and I shouldn't be doing it..but. Well, sometimes at night, when the Boy falls asleep, I play with his face.

Me: Play with his face?

Girl: Yeah, you know, I squish his cheeks up, or I open his eyes up real big. I just make faces. And I KNOW it's wrong mommy. But sometimes I just do it.

Please trust me when I tell you the images in my head at this point are beyond hysterical, but also troubling.

Girl: And so, I was starting to fall asleep, and these pictures came to my head, you know, like when cartoon characters eyes get all BIG and RED and there are like, red LINES in their eyes. And I started thinking of Boy's eyes getting like that, and now I'm all freaked out.

Me:

Me: Ok, honey. Ok. I think you should at this point, go back to bed and lie there, thinking things like "Boy's body is his body". "Boy's face is not something to play with when he's sleeping".

And then I threw in the motherly..."You know, you could really hurt him by doing that". Just for guilt's sake.

Girl: I know, Mommy...I know...(as she's shaking her head, looking down). I know it's wrong, and I'm sorry, Mommy.

Me: Good luck to you, Girl. Sweet dreams!!!

So. I held it together. I don't even think I realized how weird and funny and awful it was. The poor boy, just dead to the world, as his sister is contorting his face in the dark.

Goes to show you, one can't assume what "weird" qualifies to a 9 year old girl. Weird is not screwing around with a sleeping boy's face at night. Weird is imagining his eyes going all bloodshot and cartoon-ey afterwards..

I Did It For The Boy

I don't even know where to start. How about?? Wednesday night, last week...

Danny. The Leopard Gecko. His kind hails from Pakistan and Petsmart.

We've been proud gecko owners since June 2008. Danny is the name the boy gave him, as Danny was the first pet of the boy. There was quite a bit of love for Danny. Leopard Geckos are quite friendly, don't bite, and like to crawl on you. They eat worms. Like it warm. And there's a complicated lighting system involved. Other than that, pretty easy.

Ok. One day, Danny is fine. Perhaps a little lethargic, but they get that way before shedding. I thought.. "maybe it's shed time" That's what I said to myself. In my head..not out loud, that'd be weird.

Well, next day, I'm looking at him..he's not looking too good, and his hind legs are limp. Not moving. Nothing, Nada...zero zip. And he's just...looking...bad.

Shit.

Um.

Oh God. Do I? Do I take a 6 inch Gecko to the Vet? But the boy. The boy is like, "Call the Vet."

What do I say? "Oh no...his life isn't worthy of veterinary care (read: $$$$$). ? That's only for things with fur and collars. "

Ok..in hindsight, Yes, I should have said that. But I didn't.

I called the vet. The SAME DOG KILLING VET. Well, he didn't KILL the dog, just, humanely ended his life as I'd asked. But, still...

They got us RIGHT in.

So there we are, with Danny in a shoebox.

And the vet is going on about calcium and UV lights and calcium and in the wild and captivity and it's not your fault and a year and a half is quite a long time and never walk again and you can try to put more calcium on his food and it doesn't look good and broken back and cardiac arrest.

Shit.

Ok. We've also covered that I DO NOT deal with dead things. And I DID NOT want to some morning be dealing with a dead Gecko. But..of course, the thing deserved some dignity and no pain and all that stuff. I mean, he was never going to walk again. Still a creature of God. And my boy loved him. I kind of half whispered "can you actually euthanize a gecko?" I mean, I'm waiting for them to bust out laughing and look at me like: "You freaking idiot!! Who the HELL would actually PAY to euthanize a gecko?? Just take it home and flush it..." Or something along those lines. But no.

"Of course that's certainly an option." he says..

Hmm.

Ok.

I turn to the boy and I tell him the deal. That Danny has to go to heaven. His body is in bad shape and he won't get better and we love him and that's why we need to let him go. And that God shared him with us, and will be so appreciative of how much we loved one of his little creatures (even though I skimped him on calcium apparently..but I tried to give it to him, he didn't like it...I'm rambling) and he'll be with Zack...and oh my...crap.

The tears. He's clutching the shoe box, and tears are dropping on Danny. It was just awful. That little image is burned into my retina. I felt sick. I wanted to punch someone. I mean, I wanted to kick someone's ass. My boy was hurting. And I KNOW what he was feeling, and I hated it for him.

But then he handed the box over. And they took Danny. I didn't want to ask how they did it. Surely...they wouldn't flush him, right?? They'd use medical type stuff, right?

I'll never know.

I go out for the bill.

Which, is basically the whole point in me writing this and sharing it with you all.

I paid $71 dollars to euthanize a six inch long gecko.

The End.

pool

I'll keep this brief. And I'm going to say what needs to be said.

And then I'll probably feel real guilty about it later...but if I don't get it out of my head, it stays there and festers, and I think I can help myself become a kinder, gentler, better, more tolerant person, when I vomit out all my thoughts right here..

Thank you.

Last weekend, I had the opportunity to visit a State Park, pool.

So, in a nutshell, what this means is :

Public Pool in the middle of NOwhere.

So.

You get the peeps there, camping. (Us)

And you get the local peeps. (The real freaking scary looking people who had rebel flag tattoos and those lil weird kind of inbred looking faces and OH LOOK! There's a lady who shouldn't be wearing a bikini, let alone, walking upright without the assistance of steel support beams. Her skin around her bellybutton (?) look like draperies, EWWWWWWW I SAID IT, but it does..and of course there's the kid with the mohawk, but not the cool kind, like shaggy and whatnot, but buzzed mohawk, so quite honestly it looks like a landing strip, if you get my meaning, it's kind of weird, the lifeguard suck, during adult swim I believe 2 people were trying to make a baby ohmyfreakinggod, and then there is the creepy kid trying to drown a beetle, and says, "why won't it just die?" and he's poking it and poking it, saying "I just want to see if it will drown" and you say to him "maybe you ought to give up at this point? why bother?" and he just looks at you like, "you flippin retard" cuz that's how they talk out there you know? they use uncool words like "retard" and everyone knows that is SO NOT OK and then there is the ultimate the prize the GOLDEN EGG, the dude...the dude with the ankle thingy, the house arrest ankle thingy. Here at the pool and sometimes, sometimes, you just get creeped out by your fellow man, and you shouldn't but that's why you practice on your love love love for mankind.)

The Ultimate Mickey

So, we made it. After many years of wondering "when is the right time?" and "when, financially, is the best time to go spend shitloads of money?" we decided that the Summer of 2009 was the best time to hit Disney World. Now..I'll footnote, my parents, saints that they are, footed the bill. They took the 4 of us, themselves, and niece and nephew. 8 peeps. Airfare, hotel, 3 days at the parks, mealplans, and then 7 days at the beach with our own condo...God Bless 'Em..tough grandparent shoes to fill someday, ya know??

However, we still managed to be drained roughly $2k.

But it was worth every dime. It was.

Excuse me..my ramen noodles are done cooking....I'll be right back...

Going to Disney...As a parent, as an Adult. I don't know where to begin. It's overwhelming. The mechanics. The SHEER amounts of people, the WORKINGS of the place. It's downright creepy and in the same move comforting too. I like it, but I question it, you know?

Let's move along. We show up to Magic Kingdom on a Saturday. On 2 hours of sleep. And that's OK. The first thing..the VERY first thing Husband and I start silently noticing are the large amounts of red shirts everyone seems to be wearing. And the large amounts of men that seem to be wearing them. And the large amounts of men, wearing the red shirts, that are holding the hand of the red-shirt-wearing man next to him. Upon close inspection of said red shirts...we read: WALT DISNEY WORLD GAY DAY 2009!! It WAS Magical, Indeed....

Quite honestly, I've never seen so many uh...red shirts in my life...and there's nothing like watching the Magic Kingdom Parade at night on Gay Day, I'd say....

The only problem was there seemed to be a lot more adults in line that day to pose with all the Princesses, making it rough for the little ones.

There's more...but...well..

Ok..the meal plan. We. NEVER. FIGURED. OUT. THE. MEAL. PLAN.

And I'm quite sure the cashiers have never figured it out either. I would just hand them my card and shrug with my hands in kind of an outward pose like "eh? whaddya think?" Kind of like being in a foreign country with foreign currency that you just throw at them and you just hope you give the right amount and get the right amount back and don't look like a complete shmuck.

On our last morning, we were just trying to buy out our credits and just get some cereal boxes and some bottles of water, and a few nanners and Vidishyma from the Ukraine, or whatever just slumped her shoulders...and said,

"dees ezz not a brakefest. You aff to ave meelk weeth the ceereal."

Well, we were leaving for the beach, and I didn't want to take the "meelk" with us on the drive, so I just said..

"Pretend the milk is there, it's all good, we don't need it, I'll just put one of the waters back instead"

And she slumped her shoulders again..

"I can geet in huge trouble for thees"

I said ..

"It's ALL GOOD!! I'll put the water back, pretend the milk is there, but it's not, really!!!" (I'm TOTALLY smiling by the way)

She's all like..

"No, no, keep the waterrzz....ezz ok" looking all bummed....

So...anyways...I was all bummed all morning, worrying about Vidishyma from the Ukraine..

Disney, I think, uses some aerosol drug that makes people want to buy their shit...

All I'll say is, that when we left, I was wanting more Disney store time. And I was trying to figure out how I could make that happen. I was picturing the Earport store at the airport, a long 7 days away after some time at the beach, as a mental calming tool.

It dawned on me, like a ray of light, that there was a Disney Store in OUR VERY OWN MALL less than 3 miles away from my house...I'd have that TOO!!!

Everything was going, to be...alright.

It was all, going to be...ok.

What the hell??

I'm happy to report, the drug was out of my system withing 36 hours.

It seems that even though Disney administers their mind-controlling aerosol drug "during" the stay, it seems to have a very short shelf-life, and the residual effect is minor. The liver, on a good day, seems to metabolize the drug in short order.

I harbor no ill-will for being slipped the ultimate, Mickey, if you will..

All in all, Disney World is amazing. Our weekend was gold.

I dig that the magic is still out there..