5 signs my daughter is plotting against me

In a few short years, my daughter will make the transition to teenager–that awful stage of growing up where children turn from cute miniature versions of youself to devil spawn, hell bent on making everyone else in their lives miserable. 

I know it will soon be my daughter’s life mission to manipulate and control me with her lies, her irrational, see-saw emotions, and her cute, innocent face. So, in turn, it is my new life’s mission to cut her off at the pass. To thwort her plans. To beat her at her own game.

Sure, she acts all sweet and innocent now, but I know it’s all an act. Her calculated deceptions to lull my husband and I into a false sense of security are all part of her master plan. These things may work on her dad, but not me. Oh, not me.

This is war and I will not go down without a fight. But, the changes are subtle and I must be vigilant to keep one step ahead of her:

1. She completes her homework every night. She thinks she’s so smart. You see, every time I ask if her homework is done and she says yes and I check and it is done, she thinks she’s won my trust. But I’m on to her. I know she’s setting me up for the later years when the homework is harder and she doesn’t want to do it at all. Does she think she can manipulate me that easy? Oh, I’ll be checking your homework until you go off to college, missy. So get used to it.

2. She picks nice friends to play with. You know the type–they’re all giggles and innocent fun when they know you’re within hear shot. But, the minute your’re not they’ll be talking about boys and experimental drugs. So, what do I do? I plunk myself down in the middle of the action and never leave them alone. Privacy schmivacy. Better get used to it, I’ll be going on all your dates too.

3. She stopped wearing girly outfits. I’ll admit it, I was all too happy to see the princess-phase fade away, but does my girl think she can really hide her inner diva from me in those sweatpants? Guess again. So, you know what I did? I took her to Abercrombie and bought her a new wardrode. After that, we bought bras and perfune and earrings and glitter. That’ll teach her.

4. She doesn’t like talking on the phone. I know, you’re probably thinking that I’m so lucky. Blah, blah. And all that “this is a good thing” crap. But, I know what she’s doing (being the devious little hell-child she is). She’s making us WISH she would talk on the phone more. So much so, that when she does finally does start talking, we’ll practically buy her any cell phone she wants and encourage her to go up to her room and talk to her friends for hours. Can you believe this calculating little bitch! Well, she’s not getting a phone. Ever.

5. She never talks back.  She may hold her tongue, but I know she’s flipping me the bird in her head. So, I yell at her anyway and send her to her room on a regular basis. I bet a lot of kids get away with this behavior, but not mine.

Has your daughter been pulling this crap on your too? Consider yourself warned. Don’t let her get away with it any longer.

The pressure to put out

Back off, mister. I'm not in the mood.

When I started writing this blog, I didn’t think it through all that much. I mean, I had read a bunch of blogs, I had some post ideas and I knew a few social media tricks to generate some traffic to my blog. And, yeah, I like to write.

So, I jumped.

But after doing it for more than a year, I sometimes find myself crumbling under the pressure–the pressure to put out. And frankly, I’m not always in the mood.

I realize that most of the pressure I feel is an internal battle that I have no hope of winning. Part of me wants to write amazing posts every day. The other part of me has to work, has a house to keep and a child to rear and has to sleep on occasion.

My unrealistic goal is to put out an endless supply of posts that will make my readers laugh, think and want more of me.

But most of the time, I spend a week or more contemplating what I’m going to write–working within the confines of the following rules that I have subconsciously set for myself:

• I must post once a week no matter how busy I am
• I must be witty, sarcastic and funny
• I must subtly confront some annoying societal habit in my posts without outwardly criticizing anyone
• I cannot complain about my job directly (even if I want to strangle everyone there)
• I can’t talk about my family too much because for some reason that constitutes some “mommy blogger” stereotype that I am not comfortable with
• I will not give advice and will not try to sell anything

Why do I write by these rules? I have no idea.

This is a personal endeavor, damn it. Nothing more than an outlet for my frustrations and need to write.

Maybe I just need to live in the moment and go with whatever feels right–whether I end up being a tease who only puts out on the rarest of occasion or a blogging whore who just can’t jump into to bed with my laptop and WordPress enough.

Personally, I think I can go both ways. I’m flexible. I’m creative. But I have short bursts of energy and long dry spells just like anyone else (right?).

I’ve come to terms with the fact that my blog is a reflection of my reality and can survive regardless.

I just hope my readers will stick with me and support me during short pauses of blogging dysfunction.

You’ll still love me, right?

How disappointing am I?

Is this the kind of poo you're looking for?

Like most bloggers, I check my stats now and then. But I’m not obsessive about it. Nor do I really think much about SEO when I write posts for this blog. I just stick to the writing and if people find me and like me, then great.

Upon occasion, I have found myself slightly perplexed albeit amused by the odd search terms used that have resulted in some random freak stumbling upon my blog.

Now I’m sure some of thoee freaks readers were pleasantly surprised by my sharp wit and pen prowess, but it is possible a few were disappointed.

For example:

“people getting pooped on”

Wow. I’m not even sure which post of mine popped up for this search, but this person obviously was looking for a shit show and got me talking shit. Hope they quickly moved on to find what they were really looking for and will not be back.

Setting goals, taking names

I’m not one for resolutions, but I’ve been mulling over what I can achieve this year. What new challenges lurk around the corner? What new goals can I set for myself? What can I do that’ll make me and my family proud?

Experts say that you should set small, attainable goals rather than going big and risk going another year with nothing to show for it.

Thank you, experts! Here’s my top 10 small, attainable goals for 2010:

10. I will stop eating vegetables

9. I will gain 10 pounds

8. I will spend money I do not have

7. I will end my affair with Tiger Woods

6. I will stop taking steroids to improve my game

5. I will inject more caffeine into my diet

4. I will drink alone more

3. I will nag my husband to take on new house projects he has no business doing

2. I will ignore my family’s future and invest in nothing

1. I will get one year older

Are you with me? What’s your goal for 2010?

10 Lies of Christmas

Seeing is Believing

I wondered if this would be the year that Santa would stop bringing us presents–so I could finally get the credit I deserve for all my hard work and thoughtfulness–but, so far, the lie lives on.

I’m not sure if I should be impressed with my ability to perpetuate the ridiculous lie with total seriousness. Or disappointed that my daughter is so gullible that she’ll believe anything I tell her.

Let’s go with my incredible lying skills.  I’ve always been an impressive liar. Deny. Deny. Deny. Do it with conviction. Cover your tracks.

When it comes to Christmas though, I go above and beyond my normal untruthfulness to what some might categorize as full-blown paranoia. You be the judge:

I’m a Writer–Who knew?

For those of you who don’t know: I got a job!

No wait. That’s not right.

I got THE job!

Top 10 Things I’m Thankful For

What  am I thankful for this Thanksgiving? I’ll give you a hint–it’s not my family or friends. Or freedom or liberty. It’s the low points in life that really define who we are and I’m thankful for them…now.

I’m thankful for:

1. Adopting a puppy when I was still a sophomore in college and living in an on-campus  dorm. Otherwise, I never would have met my husband.

2. Getting fired from my waitressing job and going on vacation to Mexico the same week with less than $50 in my pocket. The first time I realized that I could face adversity head on and still have a good time.

3. Knowing what it’s like to live in chronic, daily, debilitating pain. Without it, I may have missed what is really important in my life.

4. Losing my job and my health insurance. I might have never fully understood what a life saver unemployment is OR one of the major problems with our health care system.

5. Starting this blog as a constructive outlet for my frustration with the world around me. Without it, I may have had to kill several annoying people in my life.

Mad Woman

I’m not sure how this happened, but I only just started watching “Mad Men” with only five episodes left in season three.  It’s especially weird because it is so my kind of show–drama mixed with social commentary mixed with tragically flawed characters (including a couple of struggling writers no less!).

Seriously, where have I been?

Despite the fact I am woefully under-informed about who these characters are and how they have ended up where they are now, I found myself deeply moved by the main character, Don Draper’s simple proclamation in this season’s finale episode:

“I want to work.”

What good sportsmanship really means

There has been a lot of press the past couple of days regarding the behavior of a New Mexico female soccer player that has been deemed by some as “unsportsmanlike”.  If you haven’t seen the footage yet, check it out:

Unbelievable, right?

I know what you’re thinking–Elizabeth Lambert is my freakin’ hero.

My daughter plays soccer and it is a physical game. There is elbowing, pushing and tripping happening all over the place (and she’s only nine). I used to worry she would get hurt, but now, I realize those mean girls are just prepping her for college ball and beyond. I should thank them.

I’m putting Elizabeth Lambert’s picture up on my daughter’s wall. After all, this is exactly what people pay money to see.

The reality is that my girl has got to toughen up if she’s going to compete. Sports isn’t about winning or losing–it’s about who can do the most damage to whom AND get the most press coverage.

Because how else are girls going to get people to come watch their games?

Men have been battling it out on the field or court for the benefit of the audience for years–seriously, does anyone really watch hockey for the players’ skating skills?

For the women, I think it started with Tonya Harting and her psycho ex-husband–they were a spectackular train wreck no one could take their eyes off.  Sure they almost ruined Nancy Kerrigan’s career, but millions tuned in to see the ultimate battle unfold–and that’s just good television. We should thank Tonya for her efforts to propel the popularity of women’s figure skating.

And football? Bull riding? Running of the bulls?  Who doesn’t watch these things in the hopes of seeing someone paralyzed, trampled or gored?

Cheap shots, fights, breaking the rules and horrible injuries. This is the stuff we admire. This is the stuff we watch.

Unsportsmanlike? I think not. It’s exactly sportsmanlike.

Why I love my babysitter

I love my babysitter. And so does my girl.

We love, love, lover her.

She is always here when we need her–after school, rainy days, lazy days, sunny days and busy days.

She always has something new to show us–a recipe, a project, a lesson.

She always knows when we just want to veg and do nothing but watch her.

She steps in whenever I’m too busy with bills, research or writing my blogs.

She never seems to sleep and she never gets tired.

She’s always eager to see us as we are to see her.

Some may think I’m lazy for using her. Some think she sucks your brain. Some think babysitters need a pulse.

I think she’s great. And you all secretly think so too.