Bless Her Heart, She Can Be Such an A*sshole

This is a post that I really, really wish weren't true. I'd take it back if I could.

Yesterday, I went completely ballistic, as in totally bat shit crazy, at the library. (And it had nothing to do with the mommies at storytime.)

If there is one thing I hate, it's late fees. And if there is one thing I hate even more than late fees, is being charged a late fee that I did not actually incur. So when the librarian told me when I was attempting to check out that I had $8 in late fees that I'm certain was an error, I lost it.

Lost it.

Yelling. (I'm pretty sure I said things like, "I'm going to give THEM a piece of my mind." And, "This place is so stupid. We're NEVER coming back." *cowering*What do you have to do, return books a week early to avoid a late fee?" Oh. Yes. I. Did.)

Rolling my eyes.

Stomping.

Huffing.

Name calling.

At the librarian.

In front of the storytime mommies.

In front of my children.

It's as if my wack-job alter-ego, Trixie LaRue had taken over.

As I'm writing this, it's only been about two hours since the incident and I'm extremely remorseful and embarrassed. This part of my personality, the part that can blow a fuse without a moment's notice, is something I hadn't seen in a long time. It's something that I'm ashamed of and something that I wish I knew how to control.

There are several instances that I've completely lost my cool. Yelling at the man who said some off-color things to my friends and me in an LA restaurant at 2:30 AM, at the beyotch cashier at Kroger, at a friend who changed plans on me. Each of these incidences I had reason to be angry, but my reaction was completely uncalled for. Recalling each of these events still puts a knot in my stomach, I can feel my cheeks flush from the embarrassment.

I wish I could describe what happens in these moments where the anger portion of my brain suddenly becomes unleashed from the logical and sane portion. When I say suddenly, I really do mean suddenly. It's not as if I was already angry or stewing from another injustice, but without warning I'm shouting and making a complete ass of myself. In an instant I can go from perfectly calm to raging lunatic. As I'm in the throes of my tirade, I realize I should stop. Somehow I just keep ranting, though, knowing how idiotic I am acting, wishing I could stop acting like a childish two-year-old.

I'm not sure I can face going back to storytime next week. I made an ass of myself and I don't know how to get past that embarrassment. Also, I owe the librarian an apology, but I'm not sure if I have the 'nads to tell her how sorry I am that she was on the receiving end of my tantrum. The sad thing is, is that Carson had actually really enjoyed storytime yesterday, participating during the songs and interacting with the children. Also, the other moms and I actually had a conversation and I was feeling really great about the day. Then I go and act like such a jerk. Because of $8.

I've been imagining all day that after I left, the librarians were in the break room saying, "Bless her heart, she was being such an asshole!" That at least puts a little smile on my face.

You Can Call Me Al

Most Darling Internetz,

Those of you with un-nickname-able names are lucky. With a name like Jennifer, I have a plethora of nicknames of which to choose. Perhaps "plethora" is a bit of an exaggeration, but there are at least two nicknames that I've been called.

When I was a baby, I was called Jennifer. Sometime during my childhood, Jennifer was reduced to Jenny. Most everyone I know from my childhood, all the way up through college and a few years beyond knows me as Jenny.

My parents call me Jenny. My husband calls me Jenny.

A few years ago, I decided that I'd prefer to be called Jennifer. This wasn't a decision that I announced like, "hey people who've called me Jenny for over 20 years! Yes, you! Call me Jennifer now, mkay?" Nothing like that, I just started introducing myself to new people as Jennifer. Whenever Tate introduces me to new people, he does so as Jenny. This has caused some hard to explain moments.

At Carson's recent birthday party, my people-who-call-me-Jennifer friends were brought together with my people-who-call-me-Jenny friends. Each was surprised to hear me called by the other name. "But I thought you hated Jenny?" (I do kinda.) "I didn't know you preferred to be called Jennifer?" (Yep) While I'd prefer to just go by Jennifer, it would be odd to hear my childhood friends or my parents to start calling me Jennifer at this point. This seems to make people feel weird, though, when they find out about my double name possibilities.

To further complicate manners, there are people who call me Jen. The funny thing about this is if complete strangers automatically ASSume they can just shorten my name and call me Jen, it irritates me to no end. I don't feel this way if a friend up and decides to call me Jen, even if they've never asked.

A final thought on names...since Ella has become a thumb sucker, can I keep the "Binky Bitch" moniker? Is that breaking some sort of sacred Internet rule if I'm continued to be called by a name that no longer accurately describes me?

Your (hot as hell) friend,
Jen
Jenny
Jennifer
Binky Bitch

Prequel to My Beer Soaked Love Story

Before I can go further in my beer soaked early romance with Tate, I have to 'splain a bit about my history with boys and long distances.

Prior to Tate, I'd had two "serious" relationships. Two relationships that at the time seemed like the be all, end all. I'd never "love" another person kind of relationships. Funny to look back and remember how real that love felt, but how it wasn't really real. Does that make sense?

So my first boyfriend was Brice (real name). He and I dated my sophomore, junior and senior year of high school. During those years we were inseparable. My senior year, he went away to college. It seemed that my life would end without our constant companionship. He wrote me letters nearly everyday, putting an upside down stamp on every envelope as a way to say "I love you." Ahh. (Actually I think an upside down stamp means the country is in trouble or something like that. Or I just dreamed that up and have accepted this little bit of info as fact. Either way.)

I went to visit Brice once my senior year and to check out the college. Of course, I had plans to attend the same university where we would could be together all the time and alienate ourselves even more. Whee! While visiting, we got engaged in his room at the fraternity house. Ahh. I was a senior. We got engaged. As in engaged to be married. And I was a senior. You know, in HIGH SCHOOL.

By the end of my senior year, thank God I came to my senses and realized I was sick of this long distance relationship business and having to spend hours yammering about NOTHING on the phone and getting seriously sappy letters every few days. And the thought of getting married for all of time and eternity made me want to hurl. I had beer to drink, boys to kiss, and a LIFE to pursue.

So I broke up with him the day after he took me to my prom. I'm a sweet gal like that.

While on spring break in South Padre Island, TX several years later, I met a boy who lived in Cincinnati, OH. Jerry was his name and we were instantly in love. Ahh. Really it was just lust, spiked with a whole lotta tequila shots over the border in Matamoros and beer bongs on the beach. After spring break ended, we continued our relationship for nine months. My parents thought he was an immature dweeb, my friends wondered what the hell was wrong with me. I wonder now what the hell was wrong with me, too, since he was a dip shit. We traveled back and forth between my hometown and Cincinnati, talked on the phone for hours on end, and I made plans to move there to go to graduate school. I only filled out one application to graduate school in Missouri, but five in the state of Ohio.

A few days after visiting me at Christmas, he broke up with me over the telephone. See? Dip shit. Jesus and Mary were smiling on me, though, and I was luckily accepted to the one Missouri graduate school to which I'd applied. Moving to Ohio to attend grad school, eight hours from home, with no boyfriend would have sucked big hairy donkey balls.

This history with long distance relationships made me leery of Tate. With him living in Knoxville and me living in Missouri, I couldn't imagine how this would work.

Stayed tuned.

Hey! You Know What I Love?

I love picking up Ella, feeling wetness on my arm and realizing I'm covered in shit to my elbows.

Speaking of poopy diapers, I adore when I change a poopy diaper and within minutes it's filled again! Yay.

I also love when I make Carson's favorite lunch and he proceeds to pitch most of it on the floor and tells the dogs "sank sou" (thank you) when they gobble it up. Ahh. Gee. Manners.

My favorite is when I stumble groggily back to bed at 4 AM after feeding Ella only to nearly pass out from the noxious odor that awaits me. It's even better if Tate starts giggling like a school girl and I get to punch him in the back.

I love shopping at Walfart, running errands in traffic while listening to the same Thomas DVD over and over and over, balancing the checkbook, sitting on hold with the comcastic shitastic cable company, trying on clothes in dressing rooms and having the fluorescent lighting cast a lovely glow over my cottage cheese...

What do you love?

I am not in a bad mood, I am not in a bad mood, I am not in a bad mood. I am not in a bad mood. I am not in a bad mood. I am not in a bad mood.

Let's Play a Game! Incredibly Helpful or Nagging and Maniacal?

Let's just say that a certain wife, a very organized and seasoned professional wife/mother/domestic engineer, had plans on a Saturday, leaving a certain husband in charge.

What if this wife offered a few suggestions to make this husband's job of caring for two children easier and more efficient? Having lots of experiences with trial and error, she'd figured out the best procedures to complete the daily tasks related to childcare.

Situation 1: Diaper Changes

Soon after Carson is awake, he needs a diaper change. (As in: as soon as he's out of his crib.) He will fuss and vehemently deny a wet diaper, but it must be changed nonetheless. If the diaper isn't changed, you'll find a giant pee mark on the sofa (making more work later).

When Carson protests later on in the morning about needing another diaper change, it's just easier to bring a diaper and the wipes to wherever he's playing and change him there.

Situation 2: Breakfast

Carson eats out of the yellow bowl because it's sides are high enough that he can actually scoop cereal onto his spoon rather than all over the table and floor (making more work for later.)

He prefers to eat off of the green spoon, but not the green spoon with yellow dots. The plain green spoon. If you give him a red or purple spoon, he'll yell (LOUDLY) and throw the spoon of the floor (making more work for later).

Carson likes Honey Bunches of Oats (1/3 of a bowl...no more than that, it'll just go to waste) and a tiny bit of Kashi Go Lean Crunch. He also gets half of a banana, sliced bananas on his cereal. Eventhough he used to eat bananas without slicing them, now he won't. If you just give it to him without slicing it, he'll smear it on the table and get banana between his fingers and eventually in his hair (making more work for later).

Ella gets 3 tablespoons of oatmeal mixed with the remaining half of Carson's banana, mashed well with a fork. If it's really dry, mix in 1 ounce of formula. You can make just one ounce by mixing just 1/2 scoop of the powder and 1 ounce of water. Use the water from the refrigerator since it's filtered. It's really easy to measure an ounce of water in the blue (or purple) Gerber cup.

Situation 3: Loading the dishwasher

The kids' utensils go in the basket on the top rack. If they're put in the basket on the bottom rack, they'll fall out during the wash cycle (making more work for later).

The bowls go in the back of the top shelf. If they are put in the front part of the rack, they flip over during the wash cycle and don't get washed properly. There ends up being dirty dishwater and nasty food chunks in the bowl (making more work for later).

Situation 4: Getting dressed

Don't ask Carson what he wants to wear! He'll change his mind about thirty trillion times and throw a mongo fit. Just pick out an outfit and put it on him.

The clothes on the right sides of both of their closets are the ones that fit, not the clothes on the left side. Those are too big.


*********
Incredibly helpful suggestions? A certain husband would benefit from and appreciate these ideas.

OR

Nagging and maniacal? A certain wife has deep seeded control issues.

(I'm not saying that a certain wife actually offered these suggestions, this scenario is purely hypothetical.)

You've Never Heard of This Stuff, You've Never Heard of This Stuff

Last night Tate and I had a misunderstanding. Not a dish-throwing kind of misunderstanding, or anything like that, I just misunderstood something he was advising me to do.

See, I have this toenail malady that has resulted in the upper half of my toenail almost falling off. (Sorry, folks, no pictures, please.) Tate suggested that I put some "semen salve" on it to make it better.

Rolling my eyes and annoyed at Tate's obviously lame attempt to get himself some action, I shot back at him, "you want me to put some sort of penis liquid...on my toe? Because this penis juice has such healing properties, right?" Seriously, how ridiculous a way to try and lure me into bed.

Tate, rolling his eyes and now annoyed with me informed that he had not said "semen salve" but rather he'd told me I needed "Sayman's Salve."

I was skeptical. I'd never heard of this supposed "Sayman's Salve." So Tate consulted with Google and found a mere 1,730 results for "Sayman's Salve."



Huh? I did not know of this salve advertised to be...

"a skin protectant for the temporary protection of minor cuts and burns, chapped and chafed skin. It includes petrolatum and zinc oxide as active ingredients."

Nowhere in the list does it say anything about magically healing my toenail, but still better than my original impression of this salve as being some sort of wonky sex attempt.

Since Tate loves being right (even more than me), he told me I should "post this on my blog" where you all will surely have heard of it.

You all completely let me down on the Ovaltine disagreement, but I'm confident I'll win this one. You've never heard of this stuff, right? Please tell me I'm right. I fear if I lose, I'll have to uh, pay up (if you know what I mean.)

you've never heard of the stuff, you've never heard of the stuff, you've never heard of the stuff, you've never heard of the stuff, you've never heard of the stuff, you've never heard of the stuff, you've never heard of the stuff, you've never heard of the stuff, you've never heard of the stuff, you've never heard of the stuff, you've never heard of the stuff.....

Spite and $10 Glasses of Wine

You did not misread the title, I also did not misspell. It isn't supposed to say SpRite and $10 glasses of wine or Spit and $10 glasses of wine. Just so we're clear.

Let's begin with spite, as in, cutting off my nose to spite my face. This is one aspect of my personality that makes me ever so fun to live with. Piss me off and I'll just one up you and make myself miserable trying to punish you! God, I'm fun! And borderline asshole. Aaaaaaanyway, Tate and I had a date planned last night since my in laws are in town and we actually had babysitters. In all actuality, I had a vision of a date in my head, complete with Tate having made reservations at a swanky, non-chain restaurant, me looking tall and slender in a gorgeous new outfit, and drinking wine and laughing over conversation that did not include the words tantrum, whining, or diaper blow-outs. The problem here arose when Tate arrived home and had forgotten about our planned date (and I'm never going to look tall at 5'2", I don't have any new clothes, and I'm completely unable to have adult conversation.)

Before grabbing your pitchforks and torches to go on a Tate manhunt, he is not really the bad guy in this story. Yes he forgot, yes he can be an oaf at times, yes he hurt my feelings, blah, blah, blah, but he felt really, really bad when he did finally remember. Upon remembering, he suggested that we go out after the kids went to bed. Here's where my spiteful self almost lost the proverbial nose.

I refused. I pouted. I said, "oh, but you hurt my feeeeeeelings." "You should have remembered." "If you had really wanted to go, you wouldn't have forgotten." "I will not go out to dinner with you." See? I told you I was borderline asshole.

But Tate was relentless because he knows of my spiteful, self destructive ways. He knew I wanted to go, he knew I wanted him to grovel. He's a good guy, forgetful at times, but good nonetheless. I relented and agreed to go out with him. Crisis averted.

Luckily I realized that just because he forgot, did not mean that we shouldn't take full advantage of our free (and rare) babysitting services. We went to dinner and semi-enjoyed outrageously priced seafood, slow service, and 3 glasses of wine (1 for Tate, 2 for me.)

When the bill arrived, we were shocked to see that the wine was $10 a glass. A GLASS. A GLASS! Ohmyfackinggodyougottabekiddingme! Keeping with my (previously) spiteful ways, I should refuse to drink any wine for the next month as punishment for consuming such expensive cheap wine. No wine for me! One month! But really, who is that helping? Isn't that just cutting off my nose to spite my face? I think I've learned my lesson.

Wine is back on my menu! Crisis averted.

Making My Case for Wrapping Paper

Here at Playgroups are No Place for Children, I like to tackle important issues. We have discussed many important issues as Ovaltine consumption, surviving the mob aka Children's Book of the Month Club, and S-E-X. Today's topic is wrapping paper versus gift bags.

With Carson's birthday coming up THIS SUNDAY (holy shit where the hell did TWO YEARS go?), I've been in the midst of party planning, baking, and shopping. I've been imagining the joy on my son's face as he opens his presents. This little daydream of mine includes him ripping the paper of lovingly wrapped gifts and gleaming from ear to ear as he revels in the fantasticness of it all. This fantasy most definitely DOES NOT include gift bags.

Sadly, gift bags seems to be taking over the world. I've tried and tried to find Thomas the Train wrapping paper only to be mocked at every turn by Thomas the Train gift bags. When my parents visited this past weekend, they brought Carson's birthday gifts. They brought birthday gifts in gift bags. I died a little on the inside, watching him opening these bagged gifts. Something is just lost when you don't get to tear paper to reveal the prize inside.

I'm guilty of caving in to the lure of the gift bag. For one, it's easy, quick, and they can be reused which is good in our disposable society. (See how I can make a lame topic ever so relevant!) But I can't help but feel sad that children in the future are going to miss out on the joy that is unwrapping a gift. It's like a sacred right of childhood (and adulthood, for that matter) is being replaced by the gift bag.

To quickly summarize,
Ripping open a wrapped gift...good!!
Saving the planet with reusable gift bags...good, but takes away joy from our children!
Taking away joy from a child...BAD! Very, very bad!!

Please consider this the next time you have to choose between wrapping a gift or simply shoving it in a gift bag. Thank you for your attention to this matter.

PS. To those of you who may be attending Carson's party, it's totally fine if his present is in a gift bag. Totally. Fine. Really. Not that we expect a gift! No! But in the event that you bring a gift I'll we'll survive if it's in a bag.

Mirena and Me

I'm going to my OB/Gyn later this afternoon and getting a Mirena IUD (put in, installed...what's the right word here?). I know that I asked for your advice several months ago regarding this, completely chickened out, and decided to go on the mini-pill. Of course, I had a slight adverse reaction to the mini-pill, which caused me to temporarily consider changing my name to Martha Smith, dying my hair black, moving to a non-descript town in the middle of Nowhere, USA, and begin a new life as a convenience store worker.

I've thought alot about this decision and done some research. I think this is the right decision since the current birth control method we're using has a fairly high failure rate, but I'm still afraid. I fear the side effects, especially the possibility of losing my mind again. Googling Mirena IUD yielded both positive and frightening results. Some people have had wonderful experiences and would recommend it to everyone, others have become pregnant or have had painful side effects that doctors claim aren't a result of the Mirena. I'm hoping my experience will be on the positive end of the spectrum.

If you're not sitting down, this may be a good time to do that. I can't believe I'm going to say this, but here goes. The main reason I decided to go with the Mirena is that I'm not 100% sure that we're not having more children. Despite repeatedly telling people that I was sure that our family was complete, now I'm not so sure. In fact. I'd even consider two more. Although I routinely provide evidence to the contrary (like in this, this, this, this, this, especially THIS, oooh and THIS post), I do in fact enjoy my children and love my role as a mother. You may question my sanity and desire for another child, I wouldn't blame you. Maybe I have lost my mind, maybe it's just a temporary yearning to have more children. One thing I do know is this, I am certain I'm not ready to have another baby right now or even anytime in the next year.

**I do reserve the right to retract or alter any and all of the above statements.

The Mom Uniform

I read this post by the moosh's mommy yesterday and came to a very sad realization. Her two-year-old dresses far better than me and I have little hope of dressing that cute any time in the near future. Or ever.

Sigh.

I need help, lots and lots of help (think Stacy and Clinton) with my style. This is my obviously lacking wardrobe. Prepare to be underwhelmed.

Here are my lone pair of jeans. In the event that I am actually going to *gasp* leave the house, these are the pants I wear. I have had them since 2003.


Can you tell?...


Here are the three shirts I rotate over and over and over when I'm out on work release. The one on the left is what I wear if I know I'll have to feed Ella, since it's easy access. It also makes me look like a skanky ho-bag.



I remember I bought this shirt at TJ Maxx in Knoxville. I moved away from Knoxville in 2003.


Did someone say drab? Did I hear someone refer to my shirt color choices as poop?

If my biggest plans for the day are to clean the toilets and wipe butts, I wear one of these two pairs of shorts, paired with an old, tattered sorority T-shirt.



Check the date on these shorts...1992. They are 15-years-old. I should have gotten rid of them 10 years ago.



Once it gets "cold," I'll wear these yoga pants.



I'm obviously in the midst of a very serious clothing crisis as we speak. I don't know how to dress as a mom, battling spit-up and jelly-covered fingers on a daily basis. Everything I see in stores seems too "young," too "old," or impractical. Where are the clothes for 32 year old women who want to look semi-fashionable, yet won't collapse into a puddle of her own misery when (not if) the outfit becomes soiled?

What do you wear on a daily basis? (Hint: I'm wanting to hear that your wardrobe is as bad, if not worse than mine. Thank you in advance.) Do you have any style suggestions that can help me to expand my wardrobe?

Stacy? Clinton? Sugar Daddy?

Point, Counterpoint

Point: Tate, you always leave your socks lying around.

Counterpoint: Jennifer, you always leave multiple pairs of shoes lying around for us to trip over. In fact I just put away two pairs of your shoes. Why don't you post pictures of your shoes lying around, huh?

Point taken, Tate. Point taken.





These are the remaining two pairs of shoes that Tate hadn't put away yet, says Jennifer, sheepishly.

Fear and Loathing in Las Restaurantes

I am a restaurant snob. For five long years of my life, I worked as a hostess at Ruby Tuesday. This experience has made me unwilling to eat at chain restaurants. When I see commercials for TGIFriday's 3-course meals or Ruby Tuesday's "garden" bar, I feel ill. Applebee's, Chili's, O'Charley's, or anyplace with a bunch of tchotchkes hanging on the wall are all on my "no eat" list. (On an aside, this feeling does not extend to breakfast spots, as I love, love, love Cracker Barrel and IHOP. Go figure.) Buffets are also on this list. The thought of retrieving my dinner from beneath a sneeze guard is just plain unappetizing. This restaurant snobbery is actually something Tate and I see eye to eye on.

Not that it happens often anyway, but when we do eat out, we prefer to eat at local establishments. We are particularly fond of brew pubs and places with a whole-in-the-wall type atmosphere. Even with my love of these kinds of restaurants I get positively nervous trying a new place. My fear is ridiculous, but real. First, I worry about the way the whole being seated thing works. Sometimes it's not obvious when you first walk in, do you seat yourself or do you wait for a hostess? I hate standing around looking like an idiot. I don't know why, but I don't want them to know it's my first time there. Irrational? Yes.

Some of these restaurants expect it's customers to order the correct way. I like to rehearse what I'm going to order in situations such as these. This is especially true in BBQ restaurants and any place with the word "bistro" in it's name. I fear stage fright and ridicule if I order the wrong way or mispronounce a word on the menu. My stomach gets all knotted up whenever it's the kind of place that you order from the counter and have to read the menu up on the wall behind the cashier. I always feel so rushed and it's always so hard to figure out what to order. It's even worse if there are experienced orderers standing behind you, waiting to place their orders.

Also, before trying a new restaurant, I like to know if it's kid-friendly. I don't want to walk into a divey looking place, thinking it's going to be all noisy and therefore kid-friendly, only to find that it's some swanky joint, complete with matching waitstaff all dressed in head to toe black and white table cloths. Places like these look down upon us breeders who show up carrying two kids and ask for a high chair. Eating in a place like this is sure to make me sweat. Really, I literally sweat when I get nervous like this. And sweating in a posh dining spot is typically looked down upon.

It's making less and less sense as to why it is I don't like chain restaurants, isn't it?! At least at Longhorn Steakhouse, you know what to expect. Maybe it's the adrenalin rush I get when I try a new restaurant?

So there you have it. I'm officially a weirdo, who likes to unnecessarily stress herself out for the sake of a decent meal.

*******

Update on the Standoff...

Great news! Tate picked up his socks!!

But....



I'm not even kidding. The Standoff has now resumed.

Time

I watch the clock. 5:30? Why hasn't he called? I want him to call. I need a break.

When will this stage pass, sleepless nights, colic, "no", throwing food on the floor, naps chaining me to the house...

Next summer Ella will be walking, it will be easier.

Next year Carson will be, I will be, Tate will be...

I'm always waiting.

It seems to be such a shame that I'm not enjoying the moments more. I know I should savor these times, not wish them away.

When it comes to the concept of time, I'm always at odds. I wish it away, yet I wish for it to last longer, too. Now that we've had children, Tate and I have such little time together. Yet in the evenings, I find that it's hard to switch gears from "Mom" to "wife." I don't know how to go from covered in spit-up and washing dinner off little hands to adult conversationalist and lover.

There's never enough time to just be me.

The ability to make time for everyone, Carson, Ella, Tate, friends, seems impossible. I don't know how to balance everyone's needs. I joked yesterday about needing help. But really, it's not a joke. I'm tired. I'm having trouble keeping up.

I'm always overextended.

I miss the days of being childless and carefree. Planning my days however I felt, not planning around meals and naps and bedtimes. I miss going out to dinner, having nice clothes, being the other half of a great couple, and driving fast with the windows down and music blaring. I wished this time away, wanting children. Wanting to be truly grown up.

Well here I am grown up. So lucky to have a wonderful husband, healthy and beautiful children. I have everything I ever dreamed of having and more. But, why am I not finding the contentment I'd thought I'd have?

Is this IT for the rest of my life? Making meals, wiping butts, calming tantrums, getting up in the night, disciplining, always waiting for the next thing.

Or is THIS it? Watching my kids grow and flourish, encouraging them, making them feel loved, going to baseball games and dance recitals, crying on their first days of school, remembering to savor the here and now.

Either way, I don't know where I fit. When do I get to be me?

*****
On a somewhat related note, check out my recipe blog for a delicious recipe from Impostor Mom, Spicy Honey-Glazed Chicken. Mmm, mmm, mmm. Delicioso.

Help Wanted, Inquire Here

Are you looking for a new career?!?!

Do you want to work in a casual work environment with friendly people?!?!

We're currently hiring the following full-time positions:

Chef

Must be willing to ominipotently know about my husband's disdain for things such as cilantro and "old lady food." Duties will include breakfast, lunch, dinner and two snacks, keeping kitchen tidy, putting away dishes in the dishwasher due to the employer's irritation at having to do this task.

Housekeeper

Duties to include scrubbing (especially the bathrooms as they haven't been really cleaned in ages), dusting, vacuuming, baseboards, cobwebs, sweeping, mopping (the need here is DESPERATE). Most important duty will be to keep the dog hair soiling to a minimum, which will require removal of said dog hair several times per day from all surfaces of the house.

Dog Caretaker

Must be willing to care for two drooling, smelly, lumpy adorable, sweet-natured basset hounds. Duties include (but are certainly not limited to) letting the dogs in and out several times per day, walking the dogs, bathing the dogs when they've rolled in something dead, clipping their toenails, and keeping their ears clean (inside and out).

Laundress

Duties will include at least one load per day. Must be willing to wash the employer's ONE PAIR of jeans whenever they are soiled by peanut butter hands or spit up. Stain removal skills are a plus.

Accountant

Must be willing to explain every single purchase made on Debit card and explain reason for going over the grocery budget. Duties will also include sitting in line at the bank to deposit ENORMOUS checks from BlogHer ads, reconciling the checkbook, making budget, paying bills, and filing tax returns.

Errand Boy

This is a very important position. Must be willing to run to the grocery store without notice, make beer runs, take vehicles for scheduled maintenances, and any other piddly errands as deemed URGENT! AND NECESSARY! by employer. Hot, muscular body, bedroom eyes and a dashing smile a plus! Shirt NOT required.

Lawn Boy

Must have extensive knowledge in flowers, shrubs, and grasses and the ability to make things grow in sandy, nutrient-depleted soil. Again, a hot, muscular body, bedroom eyes and a dashing smile are a DEFINITE plus! Shirt is also NOT required.

Scientist specializing in cloning

Must have the ability to clone the employer (Jennifer) so that she can be relieved of some of her duties and have time for blogging the children. Cloned Jennifer will be responsible for making doctor's appointments, remembering birthdays, making certain the diaper bag actually contains, you know, diapers, shopping for pants and shirts that actually fit the REAL Jennifer and not tell her what size they are, and wifely duties *ahem*.

Salary is very competitive and commensurate with what the finest SAHM's are being paid!!!!

Apply today!!!!

Maybe We'd Fit In If I'd Let Carson Wear Jon-Jons and I'd Named Ella, Mary Something or Other

Yesterday was the first day of the fall session of storytime at the library. Since I'm not feeling overly confident right now about my appearance, I worried about what to wear, fretted over my hair, and actually put on make-up. Nothing in my closet looks good on me anymore, I'm still wearing some maternity clothes. I also felt really anxious about making conversation with the other Moms, since I've yet to make one friend since beginning storytime a year ago. I was hoping that it would be different this time.

I've read several posts lately about different kinds of Moms and making friends with other women. Before Carson was born, I naively assumed that he'd be my ticket to easy, ready-made friendships. I dreamed of going to the park, meeting other friendly Moms who were just like me, commiserating over our Starbucks grande mochaccinos, easily making conversation and having loads to talk about since we'd have so much in common.

This, obviously, has not been the case. And I don't really know why I'm surprised. And I wish wasn't always disappointing myself.

Yesterday's foray into the world of Gap Moms, Alpha Moms, a sprinkling of crunchy mamas, and several women who made it very clear they were uninterested in having a conversation with anyone left me feeling rejected and disappointed yet again. I immediately realized that my much fretted about outfit was completely wrong. Most of the other Moms were in their color-coordinated work-out gear with ponytails and sun-visors. My children weren't even dressed correctly since I refuse to allow Carson to wear jon-jons and Ella wasn't wearing a smocked and monogrammed dress.

My conversation attempts were just that, attempts. Most of the other Moms seemed to know one another (presumably they work out together?). I asked people how their summers had been, only to get one word responses, "fine," they'd say. The other Moms easily made conversation with one another, telling each other how Mary Claire and Riffington had a wonderful time at Helen Brannon's birthday party. And how little Mary Elizabeth and Margaret Ames* had had the best time playing together at the park.

I felt sad and jealous that Carson and I have never been included in any of these birthday parties or playdates.

I don't really know where I fit in with these women. Honestly, I kind of wish I was more of a Gap Mom or Alpha Mom. I want to look put together or look like I've been working out. I want my kids to look the part, too, with the "right" clothes. I drive the SUV, I live in the brick house. I wonder, does my husband not make enough money? Is it because I'm a "Yankee?"

I don't feel like I'll ever fit in with these women. What I really want is for these Moms to want to know me.

I'm tired of always being at the edge of other's conversations, smiling and nodding like a fool, but never having anything to add. I'm tired of making the effort to be friendly and my attempts never reciprocated.

Why is making friends still so difficult? Where do I fit in?

*I changed the names of the children in storytime, however they are based on real names. It's very common in the Deep South for little girls to be called by their first and middle names.

Winners and Loot

Thanks, you all for the great caption ideas yesterday! They had me chuckling every time I checked my email. Of course, I loved the comments in reference to Ella's resemblance to the church lady! Thanks for the suggestion to send that picture into Ellen, that's a fantastic idea.

I also loved any reference to pooting, as I'm as mature as a fifth grade boy and giggle uncontrollably at poot and poot references. My sides. Are. Aching!

Here are my favorites.

Rachel's caption said, "My mom calls herself Binky whaaattt?" Isn't that a great?!

Auburn Gal Always gave me several gems, but I loved this one the most. Sorry it'll only make sense to those of you who are fans of SEC football and understand my disdain for Alabama football and love for the Tennessee Vols. "Roll what?????" Love it!

Works For Mom's caption said, "We really live in ALABAMA Mommy?" Yes, babe, we do. We really do.

And my most favorite of all....Drum roll please....

MamaDB's caption...

"Ovaltine? Never heard of it."

Sorry MamaDB about not being eligible for the Jamaican cruise. Better luck next time!

***************

Although there were no actual winners in my contest yesterday, I felt like a winner after attending our city's semi-annual children's consignment sale last night. Take a look at all my purchases...




All! Those! Clothes! And! A Halloween Costume! And! An exersaucer!!! (I'm well aware that Carson is MUCH too old to be playing in the exersaucer, he was in there merely for the photo op. The littlest girl in the house is too little for it.

I just love going to these sales. These cheap children's clothes are like crack! And I'm a crack whore, getting my fix. It is only these sales that I feel like I can justify buying so many things at one time. I purchased entire fall/winter wardrobes for BOTH KIDS. It's just like drugs, I tell ya.

Also, I'm not above loving these clothes because of their name brands. I fully admit that I can't resist the lure of name brands, especially when I'm only paying maybe $3 for a Polo, Children's Place, or Gymboree outfit. If clothes are the crack, then the name brand is the Ecstasy.

When I make a large purchase like this, I love to spread it all out and revel in it's bounty. So! Many! Clothes! Would it be strange to lie on top and roll around in all it's ample glory? Well, yes, it would be strange and I did not actually roll around on my purchases. But I may spend the rest of the day, examining each purchase, reveling in their inexpensiveness, and imagining the kids frolicking in autumn leaves while wearing their new duds.

Saturday is half-price day!!

I may be having the Best! Week! Ever!

The One Where You All Were Matt Lauer and I Was Britney Spears (But Without the Gum Chewing)

I know, I know. I beg and plead for interview questions, then never bother posting the answers. Of course, I don't think that any of you are sitting at the edge of your seats, or anything, waiting for my answers. This is a ridiculously long post. Feel free to read over several days. Or just skip this post. I would understand [chokes back tears].

Your questions were really terrific, thanks so much for asking them. I've really enjoyed answering.

This first question is from Megan:

Just who do you think you are bossing us around? (in reference to my request for interview questions.)

I'm Jennifer, the Binky Bitch, that's who.

The following questions are from VDog:

Kara also asked this first question...

1. Why do you blog? And when do you find the time to blog? Does sleep win over blogging at some point (it often does with me)?

I wish my answer to why I blog had something to do with an insatiable urge to write and express my creativity. The true answer, though, is because I stay at home all day, rarely going anywhere, so it's my outlet to the rest of the world. I don't have time to blog, but I make time because it's something I've grown to love. Sleep often wins over blogging, although when I first started, I would get up at the crack of dawn to write. Now, I sleep for as long as I can since I'm up at some point most nights with Ella.

2. How has blogging changed you? Has your self-perception changed? (i.e., do you feel more confident as a person? Has your identity as a mom changed at all?)

Since blogging, I've become very outspoken and passionate about women's, specifically Mother's, issues. My self-perception has definitely changed. I was able to find my true self, the person I am in addition to being a Mother. I've said millions of times that blogging saved my sanity, because it truly did. I found a community of people who are just like me. It feels great to fit in somewhere.

3. How does your husband feel about your blogging? Does he read your blog?

Tate has a love/hate relationship with my blog. When I got the gig with MamaPop, he was so proud of me. His interest in my blog grew and he began reading it. Now that I'm no longer writing there, his interest has waned and I think he only occasionally reads me. He gets irritated by the amount of time I spend blogging, but he knows how happy it makes me so he tries to encourage it.

4. Do your friends know about your blog, and if they do, do they read it? How does it make you feel if they know about it, but don't read it? How about your family?

Everyone I know, knows about my blog. Some read it, some don't. Although I started this blog (under another name) in November 2006, I didn't tell people about it until February 2007.

5. What things are personally off-limits for blog material?

I try to never say something about a person on my blog that I wouldn't say to their face. I'm trying (unsuccessfully) to not degrade my poor husband. If I talk about IRL (in real life) friends, I try to keep their identities anonymous, unless they are fellow bloggers.

6. What would your dream playgroup be like? If it were a one-time only affair, how would you do it up? Babysitters? Bartender?? You get the idea.

Dream playgroup?? Hmm. There would be NO CHILDREN in attendance, open bar, thin thighs for all attendees, and the delicious food would be catered and calorie-free. Oh yes, our "playgroup" would also be in Hawaii.

From Phoenix:

1. Do you have siblings? Are they younger or older?

I have a brother who is seven years younger than me.

2. Is two it for you?

At 3 AM when Ella is awake for the 3rd time that night, I'm 100% sure that I'm finished having kids. When it's 1:30 PM and I've somehow managed to get both kids to nap, I think how nice it would be to have 3 kids.

Then I remember my kidney stones and colic and realize that 3 kids would probably send me to a mental institution. I'm not trying to be funny.

3. Last book you read that did not come from the preschool section of the house.

Little Bitty Lies, by Mary Kay Andrews. I don't recommend it. I still haven't read Harry Potter. I know, I'm the only one in the entire world.

4. Who the hell designed your header, cause I need them. I hate my site.

Izzy from Izzymom and Designs by Izzy designed my header. She did an amazing job, I love my header and template so much I want to maaaaarrrrrry it!!!

From Heather:

Why do you hang around friends who are obviously insane?

I wonder the same thing every, damn day. Just kidding. Smooches!

From Tommiea:

Do you miss working?

Yes, I do miss working for the most part. I miss the kids, I miss the adult interaction, I miss the challenge. I do not miss writing IEP's, dealing with lazy teachers (this is not a blanket statement about teachers, just a statement about several teachers I got stuck working with), and car duty. You have no idea how much car duty SUCKS ASS.

More from Kara:

1. Are you in a playgroup in Alabama? How many mom friends do you have IRL?
I was in a playgroup, it sort of imploded on itself. I have quite a few mom friends IRL, like Heather, Megan, Sara, and lots of friends back in Missouri. Many of the people I've met through blogging I feel like are my IRL friends, even if I haven't met them in person.

2. What makes your heart melt with love?

Whenever Carson and Ella interact, I could just cry. Carson is so sweet with his sister and Ella just beams whenever he's close-by. Ah, just thinking about it makes me weepy. Almost makes me want another one. Almost.

3. What makes you so angry you want to spit nails?

People who talk out of their ass really piss me off. Bill Maher comes to mind.

From Mrs. Flinger:

How did you meet your husband?

Tate and I met at my best friend from high school's wedding. He thought I was HAWT. I was.

From Annie:

When and why did you start your blog?

I started my blog in November under the name "What I Meant to Say Was..." In February I changed the name to "Playgroups are No Place For Children." This title came to me in the shower and made me laugh out loud.

I think I answered why above.

From Just my life:

What is the WORST thing you have found out about living in "Backwoods" AL? Or whats the worst thing about "Backwoods", AL?

Backwoods, AL is a fictional place, just for the record. This is the name I gave the town where my husband works. Shitty Town, AL is the name I've given the name of the town where I live.

The worst thing about these towns is their distance from family in Missouri.

From Nicole:

1. Where did you come up with the name of your blog? And, where did "Binky Bitch" come from?

I mentioned that I came up with the name in the shower a few questions back. I think this was around the time that Melissa Summers from Suburban Bliss was on the Today Show discussing drinking at playdates.

You can read the origins of Binky Bitch HERE.

2. If you could have any job in the world, what would it be (besides being a mom)?

I'd be a paid blogger.

Or I'd work in a preschool as an SLP with a caseload of 10 kids with Autism, co-treating kids with the OT and PT, setting up kids' days to promote communication.

3. If you had a whole day to yourself, no one else to bother you, what would your schedule look like?

First, I'd wake up whenever I felt like it, not as the ass-crack of dawn!!! I'd leisurely get ready, take the laptop, and go have lunch at Atlanta Bread Company. I'd come home whenever I felt like it, not because my boobs were getting ready to explode due to being away from my nursing baby!

Actually, I'm at Atlanta Bread Company right now, with the laptop, thinking I should go soon because my chest is growing more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

From Canape:

I would love to hear about college. Where you went, or what you studied, or your social scene.

I went to Southwest Missouri State University, now called Missouri State University. My original major was Elementary Education, but I decided I didn't really like kids. I switched my major to Communication Disorders (Speech-Language Pathology), determined to work with adults when I graduated. I made excellent grades, graduating Magna Cum Laude with my Bachelor's. I was only maybe .02 points away from Summa Cum Laude. I'm still kicking myself for the "B" I got in Poly Sci when I was a freshman. Two years later, I earned my Master's, moved to Knoxville, TN, and started a job working with children in an elementary school.

In college I was in a sorority, I drank alot, and kissed as many boys as I possibly could. I was always the first to pass-out, though, as I always ran out of steam around midnight. To this day, I'm really only friends with one person from the sorority and have lost contact with most of the other girls.

This concludes the longest post in history. If you are still reading, I applaud you. If not, then you'll never know that I called you a QUITTER.

QUITTER, QUITTER.

Smooches to those of you who persevered!!!

Well if You Didn't Have Ovaltine, What Did You Have?

Fine! I've been bitch-slapped by all of you. Whatever. I don't care.

When I'm wrong, I'll admit I'm wrong. It shocks me that only a few of you drank Ovaltine. Most of your comments cracked me up, some of them left me scratching my head, and others made me roll my eyes.

All this Ovaltine talk made me thirsty, hungry, and thinking about foods from my childhood. When I was growing up, the most uncool thing you could do was to buy your lunch at school. One exception to this rule was pizza day. Then and ONLY THEN was it acceptable to buy lunch. The rest of the time, you brought your lunch from home. In the early days of elementary school, you brought your lunch in a rad lunchbox (me, I had a Dukes of Hazzard lunchbox). Later on, like in 6th grade, it was only cool to bring your lunch in a paper sack.

My favorite things to bring for lunch were peanut butter and jelly with tortilla chips. I also had a list of snacks that I loved, none of them particularly healthy. (Healthy snacks like apples or bananas were also terribly uncool.)

1. Kudos "Granola" Bars in Cookies and Cream Flavor. I use the term "Granola" very loosely in this context, as there was more chocolate and cookies and cream flavor than actual granola.
2. Fruit Snacks, preferably Farley Fruit Snacks in Strawberry Flavor. All other fruit snacks are inferior, but this Farley Brand is quite difficult to find. Even to this day, if I see Strawberry Farley Fruit Snacks, I'll buy several boxes and eat them by myself. (I'm not a good sharer.)
3. Fruit Roll-ups. This was in the days before Fruit Roll-ups had cut-out shapes, which I feel really screws up the enjoyment that is eating a Fruit Roll-up.
4. Fruit Leather, specifically Grape Flavor. They are similar to Fruit Roll-ups, but are far superior. I could take hours to eat just one, taking time to savor each bite. These are also hard to find, but again, when I do, I buy several and eat them by myself.
5. Capri Suns in any flavor. These were the most delicious drink ever when I was a kid. They never had enough in one and I always needed like four to quench my thirst, which pissed my Mom off since they were so expensive. Hi-C and those little cheap barrel drinks were pretty good, too, but couldn't compare to the coveted Capri Sun.
6. Ho-ho's (not to be confused with Swiss Cake Rolls). I loved to peel the chocolate off the Ho-ho then unroll it, eating the icing, and finally the moist, delicious cake.
7. Hostess Cupcakes. Everybody loves these, please tell me that I'm not wrong about this, too!

I also loved (and still love) grape Hubba Bubba Gum, watermelon Jolly Ranchers, red Tootsie Roll pops, Skor candy bars, Frozen Snickers bars, Kit-Kats, and 100 Grand Candy Bars.

Carson has not yet had any of the aforementioned goodies (except fruit snacks). I wonder if these snacks will still be cooler than apples and bananas when he's in school.

So what snacks did you eat as a kid? Do your kids eat those same snacks?

********
Speaking of all this junk food, check out my recipe blog for a spectacular brownie recipe submitted by Anna from Hank & Willie.

Sneak Peek at My Book About Children's Sleep Habits

I've decided that I'm writing a book about children's sleep habits. Having read all the other sleep manuals (Weissbluth, Pantley, Ferber, Hogg...), and being a recovering nap zealot, I think I'm highly qualified to write such a book. Sure those other authors have fancy degrees and letters behind their names. But, I have letters behind my name, too, and they are M.O.M. I'm going to share with you what I've written so far. Please don't steal this information, I'm going to be rich from writing this book.

Dedication
This manual is dedicated to my darling son, whose naps are far too short. And to my sweet little girl who naps whenever the f*ck she feels like it, which isn't often. And to my devoted husband...without you, these children wouldn't even be possible. Gee, thanks.

Manuscript:
There is NOTHING you can do to make your children sleep better despite what all the other sleep manuals say. You are shit out of luck if you happen to get stuck with children who are nap buckers. Sorry exhausted parents of non-sleeping children, but you are SCU-REWED.

The end.

I'm convinced I have a NY Times best seller on my hands.

A Peek Inside My Wishy Washy Brain

So many blog topics, so little talent. I've been working on drafts of, I don't know, about 10 blog posts for weeks.

What's sad is that none of these topics is really speaking to me. Instead these topics are just mocking me and whispering under their breath, "don't publish me! I suck. I'm boring."

These are the topics for which I merely have an idea OR have half finished (or half started, I suppose.)

1. Life in Alabama and why it sucks (not Alabama per se, just living so far from home.)

2. Life in Alabama and why I like it.

(See, I've become wishy washy, can't make up my mind!)

3. Funny breastfeeding quips.

4. Why I sometimes wish I wasn't breastfeeding.

(More proof of my wishy washiness. I made up that word, "washiness.")

5. My shopping trip to buy underwear, which was far more difficult than it should have been.

6. My fear of granny panties and mom jeans. Actually my fear that I am becoming *gasp* frumpy.

7. How we're warping our kids.

8. Recipes that I've come up with...Eggplant roll-ups, baseball meat, and chicken fajita egg casserole.

9. Copying Swistle's and Sundry's ideas and having you all quiz/interview me. You'd ask me questions, I'd answer them. Fun, right?

Anything sound interesting to you? Any suggestions for other post topics? My brain is shriveling up like an unloved penis.

Help me.