#33581 Why I Hate People and How My Rants Are Likely Your Fault.

Weirdly I feel like the holidays are the times when I get most ranty but also when I'm filled with the most ...niceness? Caring? Generosity? So I guess this means the rant thing is your fault.
Probably. I mean it's certainly not MY fault, doy.

In my newsfeed on GrossBook.

Me: asking a question out of actual ignorance of a subject and wanting to learn.
Other People: THESE ARE NOT JOKING MATTERS I AM SO OFFENDED.

The next day...

The same Other People: WHY YOU GOTTA GET SO OFFENDED BY A GENERATIONAL TERM, HMMM?

Y'all wear me right the fuck out.
Like my kids, only I can't reach you to smack you in the back of the head.

I mean if I had a nickel for every time I said "WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE??" to my computer, I would have a couple socks full of nickels with which to beat you.

And yes, I COULD BE MORE HOSTILE if I wanted to.
I could be calling you out by name. AND Middle Naming you.
You do not want that.

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AND ANOTHER THING.
This time of the year (well I guess it happens ALL year but it just gets worse in the Holiday Spirit)
everyone's picking on Walmart.
Now you're going to boycott them because the owners and corporate fatcats are getting richer off the backs of their underpaid, welfare-getting employees.
And I TOTALLY feel you. I get it.
I guess what I'm not understanding is the need to focus all your hate for Greedy Corporations on
WalMart in particular.
I KNOW the BigWig richies are getting richer.

But let me lay some enlightenment upon you.

Taking into consideration the cost of living and the economy where *I* live, WalMart is actually one of the better-paying employers.
They are also one of the most inexpensive places to shop, even grocery wise.
For poor people like me, they can actually be a blessing.
So you go ahead and boycott, applause applause for you doing what you need to do,
but me? I'm supporting them locally.

My daughter works for Sam's Club - yep, a WalMart company. She makes twice as much there as she did at a local grocery store for the last 6 years. She gets accumulated PTO, she gets at least three holidays off completely, she got a nice 15lb turkey for Thanksgiving PLUS a bonus on her check and she's only been there 4 months.

You want to talk about boycotting a store for treating their SERIOUSLY underpaid AND undervalued employees like shit? For the Greedy Overlords to get richer off the hardworking backs of the least of the employees? Then I'm boycotting Crest Grocery store.

LOOK HERE: My kid worked for Crest for SIX YEARS. She was hired at $7.50/hour and after 90 days probation, got a raise to $8.00.
FIRST AND ONLY RAISE EVER.
Also? They required EVERY employee to work a minimum half day on EVERY holiday (because they're a 24/7 store).  How many of those holidays got any sort of bonus or holiday pay? ZERO.
One year they did actually get a Christmas bonus, $10 store gift cards that they could use only at Crest.
They don't even have a proper breakroom - they have a meeting/breakroom with a microwave.
No fridge to store stuff.
When the microwave went out, the store manager tried to get the employees to "get up a collection" to get a new one.
I was all WHAT NOPE YOU BETTER NOT! I mean that's what the "miscellaneous" line in your budget is for, buster.
Turns out that at the end of the year, whatever the Store Manager does NOT spend in his miscellaneous budget becomes HIS YEARLY BONUS.
Now THAT, my friends, IS SIMPLE GREED.
They got pizza maybe twice a year as a "thank you."
And if a customer complained on you? IMMEDIATE SUSPENSION.
Doesn't matter what actually happened, the "managers" and supervisors never had your back.
Right before my girl had to have a wisdom tooth pulled, it was so swollen and sore that she could barely talk (but of course she showed up to work), and a customer apparently took offense because she wasn't chattering at him, complained, and she got a 3 day suspension.
She also took ONE sick day in the entire six years - and called in the night before her six am shift to make sure they had time to find someone to cover.
The manager on duty said she should not call in yet, to wait and see how she felt in the morning (this was her 2nd day of feeling ill and she was feverish), and when she said no, she wanted to call in sick NOW, he threatened her with a no call no show.
For the first time ever I had (had, wanted, needed, tomato tomahto) to get involved and called that little powertripping sonofabitch up and told him how things work in the real world and he did not want to get the labor department crawling over their store.
ANYWAY. No loyalty to loyal hardworking employees.
Cheating, money-grubbing greedy store manager.
No raise for SIX YEARS.
Then we she turned in her 2 week notice, the manager she spoke to said, "we accept your full notice" and then promptly took her off the schedule completely starting that day.

If she didn't live at home, there's no possible way she could've survived on just that one job without
also getting food stamps or some other assistance.

All I'm saying is that WalMart may be a really bad guy, but they're not the only one, or even the worst.
It's simply a matter of degree.

HEY, 'TIS THE SEASON FOR THE AIRING OF THE GRIEVANCES.
This is just the tip of the iceberg.

Happy 22nd birthday! The age of no particular significance.

Every year before I revise and repost, I remember. I relive. And even if it's just for one shining day, these memories make everything else fall away: all the petty irritations and frustrations, the dislikes and grudgy feelings...all of the things that, in the long run of life, aren't worth the importance we place on them. 

It's been a long tough journey that has passed in the blink of an eye.

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DUN DUN DUNNNNN! THE ANNUAL BIRTHDAY POST IS HERE. YOU WILL READ IT.

Seriously, 22? How is that even possible? Just yesterday they were like...13 -- and some days they still act like they are.

My teeny-weenie micro-preemie 1 lb babies. ONE. POUND. I know, right??

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THE DUE DATE: June 4th

THE BIRTH DATE: February 13th. Preemies for pre-valentine's day.

These children clearly get their lack of patience from me.  They were born at 24 weeks, or about 3 and 1/2 months early. They weighed just over 1 lb. each, and were about a foot long. I'm talkin' teeeeeny tiny. Micro-preemie, I think is what they are called now.

Anyway, this is my boy, at about a month old:

I woke up the morning of February 12th, headed for the bathroom, and after about 5 minutes I called out to the baby daddy, "Either I've lost all control of my body functions or my water broke".

I'll give you a hint - my functions were still under my control.

So natch we rushed to the hospital, where the stupid ass snot face condescending nurse (actually I love nurses in general, but this one? NOT SO MUCH) had me lay on a gurney for an hour and then said that I was fine, no fluid was "leaking" (I know, gross), and the pains in my back and belly were just muscles stretching, NOT CONTRACTIONS...and then she tried to send us home. 

Me being me, I caused a scene.

Hey, guess who ended up being right about me being in labor?

Here is my little girl, at about a month old:

The doctors tried to stop my labor for 24 hours, but apparently my kids were having none of that. On the 13th of February, my boy arrived in the usual way - of course, I was knocked out for the entire thing. My daughter was still safe and secure in her bedwomb -- the idea was to let her 'cook' a little longer (which would have been weird to have twins with different birthdays, right?).  So they were wheeling me into recovery when Miss Contrary's heart rate dropped to zero, and they did a SUPERFAST emergency C-Section to get her out. Evidently she didn't like being alone.
So it was like Twins Two Ways, with extra Mommy Staples.
This is also where I discovered my love of morphine. MMMMMMORPHINE.

Their ears were still folded down (WEIRD! I didn't even know ears did that until my kids were born. It was like puppy ears or something), and their lungs were not completely developed, and their little hearts were working overtime/doubletime.

They struggled for every single breath. They fought to live.

And so they did. And so they have.

Thank you, God.

Thank you for this little miracle....(my girl at about 2 months)

and this little miracle...(my boy at about 3 1/2 months)

The doctors gave them less than a 50% chance of survival.

Fortunately they got my stubborn genes as well as my temperamental ones, because my kids wouldn't listen to percentages; they went all HAN SOLO and were like NEVER TELL ME THE ODDS!

Their hearts were overworked, their lungs were and are covered in scar tissue, they are cursed with keloid scars as well as scars from perc lines and picc lines and a million little junkie scars on arms and feet from being pricked with lancets every hour. They have scarred veins, they had damaging bleeding in their brains, preventing brain growth. And yet...    

Becca's first day home from the hospital! Nearly 4 months old and not even 5 lbs. I still have this amazingly tiny dress - I swear it's barely bigger than Barbie size. Those booties she has on? The foot part is less than 2 inches long. Each twin came home attached to oxygen and an apnea monitor - whenever we all went anywhere together it looked as though we were leaving home for a month, so laden were we with electronic equipment, oxygen tanks, diaper bags, strollers...which is partly why I became the hermit I am today. #Lazy

Here they're about 7 or 8 months old, I think (did I ever mention that I am TERRIBLE about labeling pictures? Because I am). Clearly Becca was already trying to wear some sort of tiara:

One morning I discovered that my daughter knew how to climb into her brother's crib.

When Becca was about two, this is what "Go get ready for bed" meant:



Josh had the softest, wispiest hair so I let it grow and grow... until that time I gave him a buzz-cut and he's been sporting a Greg Brady WhiteBoy 'Fro ever since. Unless I cut it myself, in which case he looks sort of like he's got the mange. #TrueStory

There were middle-of-the-night phone calls with doctors on the other end of the line telling me that they didn't think THIS twin or THAT twin would make it through the night- so we'd rush to the hospital to sit and put our hands in the "baby terrarium", as I thought of them, and listen to the beeps and the whooshing of the ventilator and wait for the inevitable. There were six months in the NICU and 3 or 4 Thanksgivings and Christmases spent in the hospital. For awhile I thought they were going to name a wing of the children's ward after us, or at least keep "our" room in reserve.

There was RSV and BPD and ROP and a bunch of other things with initials that I barely understood.
There was double hernia surgery and laser eye surgery and surgery to correct crossed eyes. 

There were staph infections and even a broken arm that was caused by changing my son's shirt whilst in the NICU - he of the tiny little brittle bones. There were breathing treatments and nebulizers and oxygen tanks and albuteral and lasix and digoxin and tegretol and synthroid and constantly changing medications and frequent seizures and paralyzing fear (well, that last thing was *me*).

I remember a tiny Becca setting her pacifier down in something that had spilled...she picked it up, took a suck, and said, "What the hell is all over this?!" It made me laugh so much that I couldn't even correct her.

I remember one single sentence of absolutely clear speech from Joshua in 21 years...he was sick and angry and yelled, "I WANT MY BOTTLE!"  It was astounding and amazing and thank goodness my mother witnessed it or I would have thought my ears were playing tricks on me.

TWENTY ONE. 

(or The One Where Joshua Gives Duckface)

This milestone is especially important for Joshua, as he has already outlived all early predictions of life-span. Though it's a little like living under the Sword of Damocles, we do not give in or give up. And despite the fact that they were and are so fragile health-wise, for the last 10-12 years I can count on one hand the number of times they've had to go to the doctor or hospital. 

And now HAPPY 22nd BIRTHDAY!
(YES, Winnie The Pooh is still on the walls. Joshua loves Pooh bear)

How could I not believe in miracles? When I look upon those miracles every day of my life.

I love you, my babies. I have been and will always be thankful for every breath that you take, every blink of your eyes, every morning that you wake. I love you with everything inside me.

You still make me laugh, you still make me cry, you still make me want to smack you upside your silly little heads.

If all the world was a beach, I would love you more than all the grains of sand added together. Times infinity.

First Paycheck.

Today Becca got her first official paycheck. Granted, it's small because she only worked 2 half-days before the pay period ended, but STILL.
FIRST PAYCHECK!

I don't know why I feel so emotional about it...maybe it's this whole menopause deal because half the time I'm crying about one thing or another and the other half of the time I'm irrationally angry about one thing or another.
Mostly though, I think my eyes just got completely opened to the fact that SHIT, SHE'S LIKE A GROWNUP NOW.

Which, when I think about it, is groovy because I'm always wishing for grownup to come and handle All Of The Things. So maybe she can do that now.

[dammit I am trying to type and eat a hot dog because I skipped dinner and I just dropped a big blob of mustard and relish on my WHITE tank top because AWESOME]

I just keep thinking about how tiny she was at birth, how she wasn't expected to live, how the bleeding in her head back then caused significant developmental delays, her enlarged (and holey!) heart...

And now she has a job and a PAYCHECK and come Monday she'll have her own checking account as well.

*sigh*

Mother Talk - BODY DRAMA!

As the mother of an almost-teenage-girl, I was VERY glad to be able to get on this blog-tour for Mother Talk! If you've got a daughter--even a little one, because she's going to grow up eventually whether you want her to or not--you need to check out this book: BODY DRAMA, by Nancy Redd.

At first, I'd heard that some of the mothers found this book a bit too intense--and it IS intense, in many ways. There are NAKED PICTURES! OF BREASTS! ALL SIZES OF BOOBIES! AND VULVAS! ALL SHAPES OF VAJAYJAYS!

Sure, I felt a little weird when I first took a peek--but seriously, how many of you haven't wondered what other women looked like under their clothes?
OH COME ON.
Don't act like you never thought can her boobs POSSIBLY be that perky or is she just wearing a really great bra? or how does her ass MOVE like that and not jiggle?
YOU HAVE. Admit it.

So yeah, lots of pictures.
But here's the great thing: if you're not comfortable handing the book over to your daughter to read alone, it IS completely necessary for YOU to read this because it will serve as a guidebook when your girl starts asking you questions. Or when she starts feeling bad and uncomfortable and so not confident about her body.

AND SHE WILL. You did, didn't you?

Don't you want to be able to help your kid through her hormonally charged, angsty, ugly-duckling teenage years? If the words don't come easy to you, this book will help you through it. READ IT TOGETHER.

Body Drama covers stinky sweat, bacne, zits, piercings that aren't healing, periods, uneven breasts, toenail fungus, skidmarks and less than "perfect" bodies.
It helps girls (AND WOMEN, because I sure took away a greater appreciation for my own body too) learn to love what they've got, because underneath our skin we're all just girls who want to feel good about ourselves.

The language of the book, the style, is geared for young women/teenagers--not a lot of technical two-dollar hard to understand & pronounce words. It offers sidebar information like WHAT could be causing the discharge or HOW to make a face scrub out of...ASPIRIN! Body scrub out of COFFEE GROUNDS!

And so, so much more.
Read Body Drama for yourself.
Then read it with your daughter.
She's not ready for all the information just yet?
Do what I did...go through the sections pertinent to your immediate needs, TOGETHER.

I'm lucky, I guess...as a single mom, we're VERY casual about nudity around here.
I have not been in the bathroom alone since my daughter learned to walk. Maybe that made it a little easier for me to discuss some of the issues with her, about pubic hair and shaving your pits & legs and WHY HER SWEAT SMELLS SO FREAKING BAD when she forgets deodorant (and MAN OH MAN! *GAK*). We're comfortable seeing each other in the nude.
Granted, if this were a two-parent family, things might be different. But in this particular situation, I'm glad that we're able to be easy with each other on body issues.

IT. IS. IMPORTANT.


With all the girls thinking anorexia and/or bulimia is SO COOL or necessary--websites devoted on "how to do it correctly"--let's make our girls comfortable with WHO THEY ARE, no matter what the package looks like.

Srsly. That's just window dressing, anyway.
Everyone knows the good stuff is INSIDE the package.

Dear Santa

My daughter always has...interesting...Christmas lists.
Like three years ago, when the list consisted of:

Bait
Fishing rod
Sailboat

Topping the list almost every year is batteries, because she knows that she'll get a stockingful of assorted sizes and FINALLY be able to use her flashlight and boombox again.

This year? Since she'll be a true teenager in a couple of months, I was expecting maybe nail polish, perfume, makeup (to which I would've said not only NO, but HELL no--at least to the make-up, not at twelve-almost-thirteen. Call me a Puritan if you want, I don't care, I won't have a tartlet), stuff like that. Instead?

Slides and slide covers for the microscope
Set of encyclopedias
New journal
Pokemon Diamond
Books

I have successfully managed to raise a nerd. At least she's not a hoochie.

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P.S. I love nerds. And geeks are hot.

It's tough to find good child care...

...but I was sent to a place called Care.com, and guess what? They do the work for you!

Through the wonderful women of Mom Central Consulting, I was given the opportunity to check out what is, to me, an invaluable resource.
As a parent, many of you are aware of how difficult it is to find someone to mind your children--apart from daycare, I mean. If you're a SINGLE parent, it's even more difficult, because there's no co-parent to fall back on if you need to go holiday shopping, or if you just need a break for a few hours.
Remember when we were teenagers and babysat the neighborhood kids? Yeah, kids don't much do that anymore. Not even for friends of the family. Of course, a lot of teenagers nowadays think working at any job is beneath them, but that's a-whole-nother rant for a-whole-nother day.

ANYWAY. (Mamacita, see what I left off JUST FOR YOU? heehee)

Being a single parent with a non-disabled AND a severely disabled child...well, you can imagine what it's like to find a sitter. Or maybe you can't--let me just say it's entirely restrictive. I'm not complaining; my job is to be a mother and be here to take care of my kids, and I'm okay with that. But.
I don't go anywhere. I don't date. I can't just pop over to Friend's house for a couple of hours and a glass of wine. I can't go to the bookstore and indulge myself for a few hours. If I do get invited to a party, or on a date, my acceptance ALWAYS hinges on whether or not I can beg and/or bribe some family member to watch my kids so that I can get away for a while.
Most often I get the answer, "Sorry, I have things to do."
It's okay, really, but sometimes entirely frustrating.

Then the Mother Talk ladies hooked me up with the Mom Central Consulting ladies, and they said, "Hey, why don't you check out a place called Care.Com and tell us what you think?"

So I did.
Care.com is awesome! At least from what I see so far. It's a service that allows you to search for child care, pet care, senior care, and even tutors in your area!
I was surfing around the site and noticed that under the child care postings, each person wrote a little paragraph about themselves, and then clearly noted what they might be specialized in, what age groups they're willing to take, how many children they could watch, what other duties they were willing to perform (ie light housekeeping, preparing meals, carpooling, swimming supervision and MORE!), and whether or not they had experience with special needs care and CPR (which are of utmost importance to me). You can see if the care-giver has their own transportation and how far they're willing to travel for a job, as well as a range of hourly rates.

This information I was able to get using the Basic (free!) membership--of course, you could upgrade and get more reference information, view background checks (!), and contact the person directly by email. There's a video you can watch that takes you through each step--the site is VERY user friendly.

Unfortunately there's no-one at present in my area who meets all my criteria (a couple were close, but my kids just happened to be outside their age requirements)...but I'm going to keep checking. Maybe one day soon they'll have the perfect care-giver for me.


Check it out, Care.com. You'll be glad you did.
**BONUS!!! I almost forgot! Sign up HERE to get THREE FREE MONTHS of Premium Service!