Just hoping the babysitter isn’t dead in a ditch

June 11, 2007 by 15 Comments

I hired a Nanny on Friday. I checked her out, ran the reports, called the references and HIRED a nanny to watch my lovely and always well behaved children 3 days a week while I work only a few rooms away.

The nanny (or babysitter for you who find the N word snobby) was to start the job today at 1030am.  It’s now nearly midnight and she’s still not here. She has yet to show. Or call. Or email. Or send a carrier pigeon.

The best I can do is really hope she’s not dead in a ditch or tending to some HORRIBLE tragedy that would preclude her from calling me, her employer. At worst, she’s a total flake and after going through a professional service she was the BEST I could come up with.

I give.

The kids and I are leaving for Tampa on Thursday where their Nana and Gramps will adore and spoil them while I work.

More to come.

Oh, and…who’s taking me out for drinks in Tampa???

Filed Under: BlogHer.org, Uncategorized

The Cobb of Tball

June 9, 2007 by 12 Comments

I’m not sure if this is possible, but the Kaiser and I slunk of out tball today. Heads hanging in shame, hoping to GOD no one talked to us.

Slunk. Slinked? Slunk.Crawled.

Count Waffles the Terrible (note he’s being called by his full name today) took it upon himself lay out the shortstop of the opposing team on his sprint from 2nd base to 3rd base.

With a shit-eating grin on his face, clearly thinking he was having a blast, he ran directly into said short stop who was doing anything but watching our little Count come near him. On purpose. A mitt went flying, tears were shed. Parents collectively gasped beside us, whispers exchanged…looks our way noted.

Kaiser headed to 3rd to talk to our little angle about his not-so-funny strong arm move and have him say he was sorry to the sobbing shortstop-now draped over his father’s shoulder.

As the Count meekly mouthed an “I’m sorry” the opposing coach yelled “Its ok buddy, it was an accident.”

The Kaiser and I exchanged “accident my ass” glances and silently went forth with watching the final batter.

I'd hide my face too

Game over. Chairs began to fold and mits and bats gathered. We made the loooooooooong walk back to the car, in our heads going over the many possibilities of what to say once in the safety of our minivan.

A discussion was had kids who hurt other kids not being allowed to play tball. Something was said regarding being mean and not nice and it never being ok to knock other kids flat on their butts. Then an awkward minivan silence.

I think, for the most part, it was nothing more than one of those gut wrenching, parental moment where you feel like the biggest failure on earth. YOUR kid was the one everyone was going to talk about YOUR parenting skills (or lack there of) were the ones the mothers were exchanging glances over. How did this happen? What did I do wrong? Was it the lack of discipline that one time he threw that block when he was 2? Was it my hover-mom technique on the playground?

I wanted to drive back to that field and explain to every parent who could hear me “but just last night he wanted to know if snails and slugs and worms had doctors so he could fix the snail shell he ‘accidentally’ crushed earlier,” I wanted to scream “but he’s such a sweeeeeeeeeeeet booooooy”

Instead we kept driving. Another Saturday, another tball life lesson.

Filed Under: Count Waffles, Stepford Crazies

Margaret Mead is on to something

June 7, 2007 by 13 Comments

Being an American is exhausting.

I spent the first part of this week in tears. Hanging a yellow ribbon from the tree in our front yard and showing my children the stars on the American flag billowing below the ribbon. Their uncle has gone to war, again.

As I struggled to explain to a 4-year old exactly what a “soldier” does, I thought of all the families involved in this monstrosity of a war, the children left behind, the Iraqi’s lives destroyed. Despite my 100% disagreement with this war and the idiots who started it, I found myself damn proud of our soldiers and their families. Of our stupid, stupid country and its stupid, stupid military.

So as I swelled with pride and wonder for my fellow Americans, imagine my disgust and bewilderment when I had to explain to a Canadian just how FUCKED up our government is when it comes to helping our children. Helping the poor. Helping one another.

It started simply enough, a post about us fat ass North Americans and our lazy, lazy, kids. I tried to explain socioeconomics. I tried to explain the lack of education. I tried to explain why a lard-ass Ogre, who shills for McDonalds, would be our spokesman for combating childhood obesity. I tried to explain that yes, Taco Bell can be found in our public school cafeterias and yes, our produce and healthy foods cost more than the average family can afford. They buy the shit, because the good stuff is more money and hey, it’s got our government’s stamp of approval.

The more I explained the more I shook my head. The more I explained the more embarrassed I became. The more I explained, the more I was moving to Switzerland.

Why does America do this to me? I don’t expect to agree with everything that goes on in the great USofA at every single moment. I also don’t expect to hide my head in shame when I think of the clusterfuck that are these 50 states lately.

Just when I had shaken my redhead so much it hurt, I saw a light. I got an email. I watched something I’ve been involved in since the start head in a new direction. One that made me swell with pride. One that reminded me it’s not about the country. Its not about the borders. Its not about who’s government does what. It’s about what we can do,together. Ladies and gentleman, may I present BlogHer’s ACT.

BlogHers Act

We are excited and honored to announce today, with Elisa, Jory and Lisa, the launch of BlogHers Act, a year-long initiative to harness the incredible power of women online. That would be you.

BlogHers Act will take on two things —

1. Making a difference on a single global cause

2. Identifying the top four issues that women online want the U.S. Presidential candidates to address in order to win our votes in the ‘08 Election.

Imagine the opportunity that’s in all of our hands right now.

All of us know the positive, productive, monumental ACTION of bloggers, especially women bloggers, when rallying around a problem, an issue or an event. Since we started blogging a few years back, we’ve witnessed – and been so lucky to be a part of – countless moments, big and small, when bloggers worked together to make a difference.

Hell yes. Now get off your fat ass you lazy American, Canadian, or um..non-North American and do something.

Filed Under: BlogHer, BlogHer.org, Holding Court, Queenie Backup, Royal Decree, War in Iraq Sucks It

I don’t know what to say…

June 4, 2007 by 11 Comments

…other than I can’t believe I’m putting a yellow ribbon on my tree for a second time.

Bring them all home safe, dammit.

Including my family.

Get home safe

Filed Under: Royal Kinfolk, War in Iraq Sucks It

Diamond Therapy

June 2, 2007 by 6 Comments

There is nothing like a first at bat…ever.

5

I guess I only hate most cheerleaders.

Sigh. She kills me.

Filed Under: Count Waffles, Feeling YaYa, Princess Peanut

and after I…wipe away the tears

May 30, 2007 by 24 Comments

Someone once told me a story, about these little jars…glass jars with corked tops..that women would use to collect their tears in while their loves were away at sea or at war or on a journey.

Tears are heavy. Tears are symbolic. Tears are the mind, body, and soul’s way to express what can’t be said. Pure emotion and love in a tiny glass vase, worn around the neck, tapping close to the heart as a battle is won, a discovery is made, a destiny reached.
The tiny jars are overflowing today. 18 months of pure emotion and love are pouring out of me with abandon. I can feel.
So here I am, exactly one week into Paxil withdrawal, filling up millions of imagined tear jars. They cover my counters and my shelves and my floor. They tink, tink, tink, as I clear room to make my way through this week.
They are all labeled. One for loves lost. One for friends found. One for coffee spilled. One for the laundry I must fold. One for things I should have done. One for people I never met. One for the stain on my rug. One for the baby books I should have kept. One for the coat I’m glad I bought. One for the game I should have won. One for the shampoo I ran out of. One for the socks I can’t match. One for babies I did not have. One for the men I love. One for the women I adore. One for the garden I need to tend.
The jars are clinking and cluttering my mind as I shake off the cobwebs. Tears have never come easy to me. Tears have never been a release. Tears were always messy, intense, and weak.
A river release is underway and I’m letting it flow through my life freely. It’s a temporary river, this I know. A few more days, maybe a week, and the seasonal stream will be gone.

I don’t fear these tears. I don’t have any ill will toward the jars collecting. I’m laughing and pouting my way through this chemical chaos, and I have no doubt I’ll emerge to sweep those tiny jars off my counters and tables with a crash…maybe saving a few to remind me where I was-but not before defiantly crunching them into the ground.

Filed Under: Stepford Crazies

Missing: My Friend Erin

May 30, 2007 by 31 Comments

Hi guys,

This is Karen. Erin disappeared today into the world of Paxil Withdrawal. It’s has her by the balls. I wish I could be there to help with the kids, cook, clean, or simply put my arms around her and let her cry on my shoulder. I’ve been through Paxil withdrawal and it is ROYAL HELL.

Long time readers and friends know how amazing Erin is. She is the in-charge, in your face, into everything of substance kind of woman. A fighter. A passionate and caring person. A woman I am proud to call one of my very best friends.

The result of sleeplessness, resulting fatigue and too many tears:

erin1.jpg

Tell this beautiful Mama how much you love her. She needs to feel your internetty hugs and well wishes right now. I’m sure she will blog when she is ready.

Love,

Karen

Filed Under: Royal Pain, Stepford Crazies

Attention Whores Unite

May 29, 2007 by 9 Comments

Giving up her anti-war protest, Cindy Sheehan is admitting to Mommy Guilt.

“It is so painful to me to know that I bought into this system for so many years, and Casey paid the price for that allegiance. I failed my boy and that hurts the most.”

I like to think of Sheehan as one of the most prominent “naptime activists” of our time. Love her or hate her, she grabbed the anti-war cause by the balls and fought only the way a mother can.

So I ask you- what does it say about our country, the state of our world, that a MOTHER is giving up her fight?

Right or wrong, Sheehan obviously believed in ending the war that claimed her son’s life. Beaten and belittled she has now retreated.

MOTHERS do NOT retreat. MOTHERS fight to the death. Our world is so very fucked up right now, that MOTHERS have had it and are burying their instinct to fade into the shadows. It truly is the end of the world as we know it-our basic, primal instincts can’t take the clusterfuck of this era.
I don’t fault Sheehan for giving up, a person can only take so much heartbreak and pain before becoming numb. I do, however, fault the times we live in-the culture, the ignorance, the ability of our government to ram us up the ass and the ability of our people to bend over and take it. Sheehan said it best, “Casey died for a country which cares more about who will be the next American Idol than how many people will be killed in the next few months while Democrats and Republicans play politics with human lives.”

I’m sure there are those of you who find Sheehan the worst kind of American. While I don’t agree with everything she has done or said, I think she’s the BEST kind of American. She took her pain and fought for what she thought was right. Remember my fellow sheep, you can actually DO that in this country. You can also disagree with her and find her tactics and speech disgusting. Amazing, isn’t it?
However, there is something terribly wrong when a fellow Mamma Bear, who has lost her cub, is beaten down and beaten back until her instinct to protect is nothing more than a faint dream.

Like Sheehan, I admit to being an attention whore. I’m not ashamed. I’m not apologetic. Unlike Sheehan, I am NOT exhausted. This mother can see where this world is headed, and she’s going to point it out and try her best to make others aware.

MOTHERS are giving up, that’s where we are at. Take note, take action, and take care.

Filed Under: Feeling YaYa, Holding Court, Queenie Backup
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