Posts Tagged 'parenting'

i fucking hate christmas(and people who won’t call it Christmas)

I am in a pissy mood.  I don’t necessarily have a reason either.  Sometimes, I like to think that because I have not had a period for the last 17 years that grants me pms days whenever the fuck I feel like it.  What set me off? I had just finished making dinner and my daughter grabbed a can of soda from the fridge.  She asked if she could pour it in a glass.  Let me explain.  I empty the dishwasher almost as much as I do laundry.  I fucking hate it.  While I was making dinner, I realized that the dishwasher had reached its maximum capacity.  However, I pride myself on my dish loading skills.  The husband wholly believes I should never have to load or unload the dishwasher.  We have three kids for Christ’s sake.  I agree.  But they, like him, tend to fuck shit up so they do not have to do it again.  No one in my household understands the concept of rinsing off debris from plates before stacking them in the dishwasher.

“What’s the point of washing the dishes before we wash them?”

I refuse to buy Cascade Complete.  Too fucking expensive.  I do, however, buy Cascade.  The off brands don’t seem to work as well.  Have you ever bought a generic magic eraser? Yeah- not the same.

So I questioned why the daughter needed a glass when she usually drinks soda straight from the can because the dishwasher was already full and the husband had just brought in 6 tumblers from his car that he toted his coffee to work in for the week.  Because God Forbid anyone(the husband) in my house uses anything(a  travelling coffee mug) for anything it was meant to be used for.

The husband gave me shit for giving my daughter shit (yeah- he understands) so I fell silent.  Because I am passive aggressive.  My best friend chose the next moment to call me, when I had already fast forwarded to all the reasons my life sucks right now; including but not limited to the fact that I need a vacation yet my husband gets motorcycles.

“Why did you call me?” I asked her.  Her turn.  She fell silent.

I tried to explain that she called in the middle of one of my “I’d probably be pms’ing if I had a period,” moments.  (God love Mirena!!)

I tried to assure her that it was NOT because she had told me a few hours earlier that she had most of her Christmas shopping done.  She has three kids too.  But they don’t count.  Because they are young and not demanding.  Her husband, on the other hand…

I am Jewish.  I do not like Christmas.  I grew up celebrating Chanukah (pick your own spelling!)  I never had the visceral experience of running down the stairs on Christmas morning and tearing into present upon present that Santa had delivered under an adorned Christmas tree.  Nope-Jews drag that shit out.  Over 8 days.  One year, before my daughter was born, the husband’s best friend gave each of our boys $100.  He gave kid #1 a hundred one dollar bills.  He gave kid #2 one $100 bill.  Kid #2 freaked the fuck out because he thought his brother received more money than he did!  Yup, sums up my thoughts on Christmas!

Two years ago, I asked the kids what they had gotten for Christmas the year before.  Not one of them could remember.  I told the husband, “No more! We are only buying them large, tangible gifts!”

And yet, I still find myself shopping Christmas Eve every year because we do not think we have bought them enough.

Another reason I hate Christmas?  Because my birthday is in December.  What a bunch of shit!  Every year I pray for cash.  So I can buy my ungrateful kids MORE presents.  Christmas music?? Pshaw.  Unless it is “Please come home for Christmas” by Bing Crosby.  The only Christmas song I love.

I am currently trying to arrange a Christmas get together for all of my high school friends and our kids.  Mainly because one of our friends works for Bath and Body works and I want to solicit her for discounted gift certificates.  Not necessarily for gifts; my candle infatuation is quite ridiculous.  But it makes a good cover.

“Just ask her! She’ll understand- she’s Jewish too!” my best friend said when I told her my plan.

She isn’t really.  She may have married a Jew but deep down she is as Jewish as I am.  Which boils down to CHEAP.

My other best friend agreed with I’ve- got- my- shopping- done best friend.

She has five kids- twins and triplets.  And I hate Christmas more?

I do, however, LOVE Thanksgiving!!

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Our doorbell sounds fucking stupid

I hate clichés. I hate them even more when they turn out to be true. Or apply to me. Paybacks are hell. That would be an apt description of my summer with my 16-year old, kid #1. The husband and I have been tried on all levels. We have caught him smoking pot, lying about smoking pot, influencing his TWELVE year old brother to smoke pot, and stealing our car. Actually, the police caught him stealing our car. I am deaf in my left ear and like to drink beer. The husband likes to drink beer. This apparently inhibits our ability to be awakened in our solid state of slumber regardless of numerous incoming calls to both of our cell phones and even our home phone(yes, we have a landline!)
So the cops ring the doorbell. Let me explain our doorbell. Our doorbell broke. The husband replaced it. With the WORST doorbell ever. It kind of resembles church bells and sounds exactly like the alarm he sets on our computer every night. His alarm goes off at 5:00 am. Then 5:15. Then 5:30. I hate my husband most mornings.
So said night of kid stealing car and neither kid nor cops able to get a hold of the husband or I on cell phone or landline, the church bells go off at 2:30 am. The husband gets up and tries to shut off computer. He mistakenly thinks he needs to get ready for work. Church bells go off again and he realizes it is not the alarm. The he throws on a pair of shorts and goes downstairs. At this point, I am still discombobulated. Not for long.
The husband answers the door and the cops ask if he is missing a car. Husband looks into driveway.
“Why yes, sir, I am”.
“Are you missing a kid?”
And kid #1 walks out of the back of the cruiser. The husband was tired and I am not sure of the exact exchange. The police handed him a plastic bag with kid #1’s belongings, including but not limited to our keys, his phone, some screens, a bowl, and some marijuana. The car, our Saab, see My husband and his beaterPermalink: https://thefbombmom.com/2013/03/11/the-husband-and-his-beater, sat parked in front of kid #1’s friend’s house awaiting our retrieval. At 2:30 in the morning. When the husband has to leave for work at 6:00 am. We sat at the kitchen table trying to wake up and soaking up the severity and the sheer luck of the situation that had just transpired. We knew we had to leave and pick up the Saab. Meanwhile, kid #1 walks upstairs. With the bag. Including his pot.
“Did he just walk upstairs with that bag??” I asked the husband.
Yes. Yes, he had. The husband corrected that situation immediately. And then we begrudgingly left the house to pick up the car.
Okay. A couple of thoughts here.
#1. I am still unsure of how I feel about the cop sending the kid home with drugs. Don’t they pour them out or something? On the other hand, Kid #1 does not even have his license. I am relatively sure it would have cost an arm and a leg to try to get him out of the numerous tickets he could have been issued. No ops? Possession of drugs? Drug paraphernalia? Curfew? He (WE!!!) is lucky. Almost too lucky. What is the lesson learned here?
#2. The husband and I are guilty of every infraction that Kid #1 got busted for. BUT that was more than 20 years ago. And we never got caught.
Sigh. It fucking sucks being a parent sometimes!! There is more to this story but I’ll save it for next time. I hope you appreciate my hiatus. Because I fucking hated it.

Don’t steal beef jerky from Walmart

I am not a control freak. Nor am I a clean freak. I just like shit to get done and my house not be a fucking mess. (The husband goes back to work in 48 days). I swear if dinner is on the table just ONCE when I come home from work in the second half of his ‘recovery’ I will dedicate a page to him. I will title it “An ode to my husband who wears a shirt again”.
I fail to understand how none of the kids have inherited any iota of the clean gene I possess. I know 2 of them are not biologically mine but I have always favored nurture versus nature.
I think my kids are spoiled. All three have televisions, game systems, computers, and Iphones. The boys take the trash from the garage to the curb once a week. All I ask is that they put away their laundry (that I gather, wash, dry, and fold) and keep their rooms and bathroom clean. The husband tells me to shut their doors. It is a constant battle I refuse to lose. I am not a control or clean freak, but competitive? Yes, yes I am.
Kid #3 (the biological one) stands out in this category. She flat out refuses to clean her room. She cries when I tell her she needs to, trying to gain sympathy from the husband. This usually proves successful. I tried to have a rational conversation with her tonight about the situation. It started when I asked her to put away her laundry that had been sitting in a basket in her room for a few days. She was playing on the computer in our room because her computer, through no fault of her own, is not working well. She finished putting away her clothes in less than 2 minutes and assumed her position on my computer chair. Skeptical, I checked her room.
She did hang up the shirts (sort of) and then proceeded to shove everything else anywhere it would fit. Mind you- she does have a sock drawer, underwear drawer, etc. Immediately she breaks out the tears. I tried to rationalize and asked her how she thought we could solve this problem.
“Do you think your room is a mess?” I asked.
“Yes, mom,”
“Why do you think you always make such a mess?” I asked.
“Well I play with stuff and then I don’t feel like putting it away,”
We have diagnosed the problem.
“Well, can you think of any ways I could maybe help you keep your room clean?” I asked.
“Will you make me a list on the white board again?”
I shook my head no. My last list?
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In my defense, I angrily scribbled that list 4 hours after I had asked her to clean her room. I have decided, on that note, to make a more viable list for the kids. Over the years, I have learned that no matter how many things I wish they would do; there are so many more things I wish they would NOT do.

1. Do not put toothpaste on your wall. I realize blue and white make pretty clouds. There is, in fact, something even a magic eraser does not do well.

2. Do not make me wash clean clothes. I become bitter. And angry. And I’ll start reading those notes in your pockets.

3. Do not drink soda in your room. It always ends up on your floor or in the trash can you never empty. (or your closet if you are proud).
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4. Do not steal beef jerky from Walmart. And get caught. Really? How white trash is that?

5. Do not freeze Polly Pockets. It scares the shit of your mom when she goes to get something out of the freezer and is greeted by a deranged doll in ice. I know you wanted to see what a caveman would look like. A forewarning would have been sufficient.caveman

6. Do not ‘accidentally’ order something that requires $80 worth of Microsoft points you have not previously purchased.

7. Do not tell your friend I do not like him because I think he smokes pot. Especially if his mom is one of my best friends.

8. Do not use a hammer and nails to hang stuff on your bedroom door.
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9. Do not play with old school mousetraps. This requires an explanation. Before all of my dogs died, I desperately tried in vain to keep them off of my couch. That sentence requires a future post in itself; but one of the several tactics I tried was laying those old fashioned mousetraps on the couches. One night, the husband and the boys were chasing each other through the house throwing the traps at each other. Trying to be the voice of reason(not what the husband would call it), I warned them that someone was going to get hurt. Enter kid #3. My 8-year old daughter walked down to see what the commotion was about and sure as shit a mousetrap snapped on her arm. I was livid! Of course, an hour later, kid #3 posts on Facebook that her dad threw a mousetrap at her and it snapped on her arm. Thank god the mother in law and various aunts and old babysitters have her account password and removed the post. I realize she is too young to have a Facebook page. Her brother set it up for her unbeknownst to us and it has been monitored very closely since then. Don’t judge.

10. Do not use the toilet when it is plugged.(see I’m poop and puke) https://thefbombmom.com/2013/01/11/im-poop-and-puke

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11. Do not rip up dollar bills. Or $10 dollar bills. Your mom is Jewish and it pisses her off.

This list could go on. But I really wish it wouldn’t.
5 Bass in; NINE words with friends games pending.


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