Yet another reason to drink.

Why do I always feel so caught off guard by major events? It is definitely not because I procrastinate. (It totally is, but let's just pretend, OK?) I was just cruising through the usual weekday stuff (#shittyjob, #shittyinlaws and some headbutting from my kids to round things out) and was *shocked* to look at my calendar & realize that I have less than a week until my tiny fragile baby strong, energetic Monkey starts school. I am going to be the mother of a preschooler. Sh*t. I'm not ready! Can we rewind? PUH-LEASE? Seriously, I'm not ready. Yes, I still need to shop for the perfect backback & lunchbox combo. And they will probably not want him to wear crocs, so I guess shoe shopping is in order. Plus he grows like a damn weed, so I need to get him some new shirts that fit. Preferably without ketchup stains. But I can handle all of that. Maybe. (He will probably be attending school in too short, ketchup stained tshirts, wearing crocs and with his lunch in a grocery bag, alright. Whatever.) What I CANNOT handle is the realization that my baby is not a baby. Oh dear heavens! He's going to be signing his MLB contract with the Yankees next week, isn't he? I need a drink.*




*Are all moms this unreasonably emotional when their oldest child starts preschool or is it just me?**


**If it's just me, I don't want to know. Lie to me. Seriously.

The real problem.

You have all heard me rant, vent & otherwise b*tch about my #shittyinlaws. It's funny, but it also hurts. A lot. Especially because I consistently feel like The Yankee sides with them over me. Defends their actions instead of trying to see how their actions make me feel. I never thought that his parents would love me even a tenth as much as they love him. (For the record, my parents do love The Yankee like he is their own. It is amazing to watch their relationship. It makes me nauseous with envy.) I also never thought that these people would treat me like a leper, critically misinterpret everything I say and do or lack the interpersonal skills to deal with conflicts like mature adults. I also didn't plan for the conflicts they would cause in my marriage and how alienated I would feel from my own husband because of their shit words and actions. I just didn't plan for that. I mean, I wasn't marrying into the Barone family, right?


I think that is the real problem for me. Sure, they spend a ton of time kissing The Yankee's ass and chapping mine, but at the end of the day I don't have to go to bed with my #shittyinlaws. (Thank the good Lord for that.) I go to bed with The Yankee and on days (or weeks) when there has been conflict with the #shittyinlaws, our bedroom is tense. Like, cut the air and serve it as a bitter pound cake, tense. The tension is not caused by the absurd, asinine & otherwise hurtful things my #shittyinlaws do, say or imply. It is caused by feeling like I suffer alone while The Yankee condones or at the very least, ignores their behavior.


Call me naive, but when I got married I thought that vow made us a family. A me-before-all-others, us-against-the-world, family. I didn't realize that there was an asterisk for his family. I didn't realize that it was alright for him to leave me feeling abused because the hatred came from his parents. I expected that we would disagree in private, but I thought that he would have my back anywhere else. I expected that he would stand up for me when I was being attacked, directly or not. I thought that he would never dream of standing by while someone belittled, disparaged or otherwise insulted his wife, but that is exactly how I feel time and time again. I guess that is what I get for having expectations.


I know The Yankee loves me. I believe he wants me to be happy. I believe that he doesn't want to see me suffer or crumble under the weight of his parents actions. What I don't know is why he doesn't see fit to put those desires into actions. Why he doesn't feel it is his place to say "STOP TREATING MY WIFE LIKE THIS" as many times as is necessary to get the point across. I might never know, but I do know how his silence & inaction makes me feel: like sh*t.


I guess that is a win for the #shittyinlaws. 

The alarm clock situation

We have an alarm clock situation. And by situation, I mean a big PITA for me. See, The Yankee is a heavy sleeper. I'm not talking about your usual my-husband-passes-out-on-the-couch-and-snores-loudly heavy sleeper. We are talking about a serious, could-set-a-Nancy-Grace-next-to-him, borderline narcoleptic. (For reference, check out The One About Sleep and Livin The Dream. Yes, I write about sleep a lot. Get over it.) The Yankee could sleep through the entirety of Lollapalooza from the front row. When he is out, he is effing OUT and half the time he doesn't even realize he has fallen asleep. He has passed the eff out mid-conversation and the argued that he was definitely NOT asleep when I prodded him awake. Yep, that's The Yankee.

Here is the big issue, besides the fact that his comatose state gives him a carte blanche excuse to ignore all nighttime parenting duties: his job requires him to get up earlier than I do. I know, it sounds great, doesn't it? The Yankee gets up, shuts off his alarm and meanders to the bathroom while I get to enjoy the entire warm, comfy bed to myself for another hour or so, right? Yea, only in my dreamland, except in my dreams Mark Whalberg plays my husband. Mmm, Marky Mark....wait, what were we talking about? Oh yea, The Yankee and his fawking dream killer alarm clock. The man sets his alarm for roughly an hour before he actually has to be out of bed. This gives him ample opportunity to piss off his sleep-deprived wife, while he snoozes blissfully. I get to spend the hour scurrying back & forth like a damn hermit crab, trying to simultaneously rouse him, silence the alarm clock & keep from waking whichever child decided to occupy our bed in the wee hours of the morning. Lucky me!

So, I lose a solid hour of slumber just trying to get his behind awake, only to have one or both of the kids wake up just as he lumbers into the bathroom with the grace of a inebriated bear. And you know what is the worst part, there is no snooze button on my kids. Trust me, I've looked. HARD. Unless it was that raisin looking thing that fell off when they were newborns (I knew I should have saved that thing!), I've got two defective alarm clocks and they will not stop with the incessant "Moooooooom"-ing until I drag my exhausted butt out of bed to entertain, feed or otherwise placate them. Want to hear an even crueler joke? I can't stomach coffee. Yea, it's BAD.

So could someone puh-lease invent a alarm clock that will play whack-a-mole (silently, of course) with The Yankee's head until he gets up? OR a snooze button for my kids that does not resemble a muzzle? (I'd go with the muzzle idea, but those DFACs people are getting a bit annoyed with my "jokes", ya know?) I'm seriously begging. I can pay you a small fortune in sarcasm, crushed up goldfish crackers & dust bunnies and seriously, who doesn't want that?

Time to get S.H.I.T. again!

The lovely Rusti at My Life As An Officer's Wife hosts an awesome weekly meme called SoHappyItsThursday and you simply must join the fun. Here is my second S.H.I.T. list:

• Only one more day of hell work, until I get to spend some relaxing time with The Yankee & the little Yankees. (I have taken to calling them that now that they are spending all day with him. I'll blog about that later!)
• For my wonderful twitter/blog tribe that are so supportive & hilarious. Y'all are a delicious spread I like to enjoy on toast! (Otherwise knowns as The jam!)
• For the awesome #wineandwhine last night & the great advice I got from Elly at Living That Life. She is one smart cookie!
• The awesome dinner of wine and cheesecake that I enjoyed last night. It may not have been healthy, but it was what I needed & man was it delish!
• For Rusti! She started this brilliant meme which forces me to focus on the things I am thankful for, especially in the midst of a trying week!

Looking forward to checking out everyone else's S.H.I.T. lists!

19 year olds are a**holes.

Seriously, they are. I'm sure there are a few exceptions, but most of them are selfish and unappreciative a**holes. If you disagree, I am open to hearing your arguments, unless, of course, you are 19. In that case, please direct your energy into retraining your peers, because I am over their sh*t. (And chances are, you are an a**hole and just don't realize it. Humility, check into it.)


Why do I hate 19 year olds? Good question! You know that snotty girl who can't be bothered to greet you or stop texting while you shop for cute shoes that your kids will destroy? She's 19. The androgynous kid in tight jeans with hair plastered over one eye that smokes cigarettes right next to the playground? He/she is 19. That vapid idiot Kim Kardashian, who is complaining about psoriasis and how it will "ruin her"? She never outgrew 19. THAT is why I hate 19.


I didn't always see 19 year olds as rude, self-absorbed and begging to be smacked upside the head, for the betterment of society, of course. It is a realization that has grown over time, like a kudzu on my back deck*. I wanted to give 19 year olds the same shake as everybody else, after I all, I was 19 a long time ago not *that* long ago and I wasn't an a**hole. (Here is where I am really thankful my parents aren't reading this blog.) Anyway, I didn't christen 19 years olds with the title "king of the a**holes" until one of them pissed me off for the 3,178 time and I decided I had had enough. It was time to wage a war of snark, mockery & condescension on them all. 


Oh, you need an example of the bullsh*t that led me to declare war? What are you congress or something? Geez! Here is your explanation: I wrote an employee up for a blatant violation of company policy & she responds by posting a idiotbook facebook status about how she hates her job & is getting "the sh*t end of the stick". Did I mention she is friends with myself & the owner of the company on  idiotbook facebook & when confronted about the status, she had the gall to defend her status because she has "freedom of expression" (even though she wrote the status on the clock)? I'm totes serious, guys. (Isn't that what the kids say nowadays?) Want to guess how old she is? You guessed it: 19 and an especially dumb one to boot. And that was when I went to war. Do I have your approval to commit acts of war now?


As of yet, my war plan isn't very well-established. It is mostly harassing them into realizing the importance of manners and professionalism. When I ask a 19 year old if they understand something and I get a "yeah" in response, I treat them like my 3 year old. "Excuse me, I think you meant 'Yes ma'am', didn't you?" (Is it any wonder they hate me?) Oh and I add sentences like "Later on, you are going to realize just how easy you had it & how you failed to appreciate any of the opportunities that you were given!" Come to think of it, this war on 19 year olds sounds a lot like me turning into my parents....Ah, sh*t.








*No, I'm not talking about the website. If you don't know what the plant named kudzu is, you clearly don't live in Georgia. Consider yourself lucky and go look it up. That sh*t takes over everything. 
**In case you were wondering, I used the number 19, 13 seperate times in this post, including this sentence and I cursed 10 times. How's that for setting a good example?