Spit-Hang Threats and Walkie-Talkies

Twice a week we work the my kid’s middle school, I love it, we go at lunch and hang with the kids for about 15 seconds; in which time they successfully rob us of any and all change or loose dollar bills. Yesterday this odd looking guy rode his bike right past us and onto the school grounds, it’s our job to keep weirdoes out of the school and keep the kids safe.

Chris and I looked at each other and we both reached for the walkie-talkie to call security, both of our hands were on it and we both started to tug. I narrowed my blue eyes at him, threatening him. We then wrestled on the cement in front of the middle school because we BOTH wanted to be the one to use the walkie-talkie.

All the while, the creepy man was riding his bike through the school doing God knows what!

I got on top of Chris and threatened to do the hang-spit thing, or maybe it’s called the spit-hang thing… You know… when you let your spit drip out and then you suck it back up real quick?

It takes skill and a certain type of saliva. Chris has seen me in full spit-hang action with my brother and truthfully I think he was a little scared. But, he didn’t give up the walkie-talkie and he pushed me aside with one swift kick and I rolled down the inclined walkway. OK, fine, maybe I didn’t actually roll, but whatever.

The shithead got to use the walkie-talkie before I did. Holycripesitsnotfair!

I have been waiting to use that walkie-talkie since September, when school started. I have rehearsed what I would say if there was a creepy guy on the school grounds. I even have a walkie-talkie name, like truckers do. If I got to use the walkie-talkie it would have gone down like this:

Security, we have a 716 in progress, suspect is on the west, southwest side of the campus behind room 216. This is Chloe, do you copy?

And then I’d say shit like ‘10 4,’ ‘Roger’ and ‘Over and out.’

Instead, Chris got the walkie-talkie and said: Security, this is the front gate; a man rode his bike in looking for recyclables I think he is near the auditorium.

What a weirdo, he didn’t even use a cool made up name or anything.

It Only Took 10 Seconds

Showering a 98 year old woman is harder than you think, and I’m really NOT good at it. Maybe if she wasn’t my grandma it would be different, or maybe it would be worse. I sit her down on the toilet and remove her clothes, she screams…

I lift her up over the step that goes into the shower and plop her down on her shower chair, she screams…

It’s a difficult process, she’s 95 pounds; it’s not like I am bathing a little kid that I can flip around and rinse properly. I’m getting some guns—not guns you shoot, but ‘arm guns’ from lifting her.

So yesterday, I had her in the shower all ready to wash her tiny little wrinkled body but I forgot her towel in the dryer, so I screamed into her ear, “STAY HERE, I’LL BE RIGHT BACK.” I ran out to the dryer and grabbed a warm towel, she really likes warm towels.

I was gone for approximately 10 seconds and when I came back in she was cruising over to the door, naked.

????

How the heck did she get out of the shower and into the living area in 10 seconds?

I dropped the towel and rushed to her side and screamed, “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”

I don’t scream because I am angry, I scream because she is VERY hard of hearing and refuses to wear her hearing aids because she says I talk too loud. It’s a bit of a double edged sword.

She handed me one of her teeth and replied, “I just want to be where you are.”


*

Some People's Kids

What kind of children are we raising nowadays? Tonight I celebrated an early birthday over at my parent’s house. My real birthday is on Saturday, so feel free to send me gifts, emails and double A batteries! We arrived with the usual gaggle of children, plus a few extras, we always seem to have at least 2 or 3 extra children on top of our usual herd.

Two of the children refused to eat the dinner, or even try it. I’m sorry, but if my children are invited to someone’s house for dinner, they eat what is put in front of them without complaining. It’s called respect, politeness and gratitude. I really think parents are forgetting that these are valuable lessons to teach your children. It was lasagna, garlic bread, salad and apples with yogurt—you’d think that at least some of that was appealing…but no, they wouldn’t even try it. I understand and respect that children have differing tastes, but they need to be taught how to be polite about it. They should have taken some of the food on their plate and played around with it in an attempt to make it look like they were at least trying to eat it. A bite or two wouldn't have killed them either, just sayin'

After dinner I asked my daughter, Christie, and her friend to help me with the dishes. I told Christie to wash and I asked her friend to rinse and I dried and put away the dishes. Her friend whispered to Christie that she didn’t know what to do.

Seriously, a ten year old not knowing how to wash dishes? Please. This is totally the parents fault; it saddens me at how spoiled this young generation of kids is. My children have been doing their own laundry since they were tall enough to reach the start button and dishes way before that.

I’m not claiming to be an expert or anything, but please people, teach your children some manners and some basic housekeeping skills. It’s really not that hard.


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And Now, We Wait...

A few days ago I posted about my teenager's High School and how they allowed a clinic to come in and administer the Deprovira shot to teenagers without parental consent.

I spoke with the principal and the nurse and they told me that YES, a clinic comes into the school twice a month and offers health care to students. It's a real Dr. and the exams are given in the nurses office after school hours. The nurse told me to read the pamphlet that I was given at the beginning of the school year.

I have four kids in three different schools, I have not read all of the pamphlets that get sent home... They're like 100 pages each.

Amanda has been in bed with a debilitating headache for days...

I took her to my Dr. today. She has to have an MRI done on her brain because blood vessels spasming in the brain are a common side effect from the Deprovira shot. My Dr. was shocked that she received the shot without my consent.

None of this seems right, I texted Chris and he immedietely started researching the laws. Here is an article that he found, The California Legislature States that any child, regardless of age, can receive birth control WITHOUT a parental consent (third paragraph under analysis.)

I am beyond pissed and thinking of heading up to Sacramento and causing some stink--I think that the drug company should at least pay for the medical bills. MRI's are NOT cheap!

And, what if her headaches don't go away?
And what if there is something more serious going on?
And I got a parking ticket, because Amanda didn't want me to leave her while they stuck her repeatedly with needles.
And now Amanda says that she feels like a wet noodle.

I won't know the results of her blood tests until Thursday and she has an MRI on Monday. So now we wait.

*

Sorry...

Writers Workshop-

When we were younger, my sister and I were completely in charge of our little brother, Rhett. Poor guy, we tortured him in every way possible, as older sisters should. Our favorite form of torture was ice. My older sister, (yes I am the middle messed up one. Shut up) Noel, would hold him down while I would slowly drip ice on his forehead until he agreed to comply with our wild requests. This was done on almost a daily basis.

Sorry Rhett.

Once Rhett became immune to our ice antics, my sister and I put our heads together and came up with a better plan. Noel held him down and I peed on him. This went on for several days until Rhett finally gave in and agreed to our terms. Our terms were really quite simple, we wanted him to be our personal slave, you know, clean our rooms, eat our eggplant, and give us his ice cream. We really were NOT asking that much, he was just being stubborn.

Sorry Rhett.

Rhett’s stubbornness forced my sister and I to ‘up’ our tricks, so we decided to fill water balloons with our pee, using a funnel. It took weeks to save enough pee to fill up enough water balloons to make our point clear. When we successfully had enough pee-balloons, we bombarded Rhett and his friends as they walked home from school. It was super gross, because pee stinks; especially when it has been sitting in a balloon for weeks, but again, he agreed to our wishes.

Sorry Rhett and friends.

We didn’t mean to be so evil to our little brother, but he didn’t have to be so stubborn either.

Teenager: Free To Good Home...

Amanda, my seventeen year old daughter, has been a train wreck of emotions lately. She called me the other day from school crying because she couldn’t find her eraser. Then she texted me saying that all her friends hate her. The next day she cried at the dinner table because she couldn’t get her spaghetti on her fork.

Finally, after days of this nonsense I pulled her aside and sat her down demanding an explanation. She told me that she didn’t know and that the only thing that had happened was that she got the three month birth control shot… Depo something…

I’m weirded out… I’m glad that she took the initiative and that she is being responsible, but saddened that she didn’t come to me. I asked which Dr. she went to and she said that a clinic came to her school and did PAP exams and administered these birth control shots to the teenagers.

TEENAGERS!! I wasn’t notified of it from the school or the clinic. This drives me absolutely nuts!

She can’t have a surgery to save her life without my signature, but she can go get a PAP exam and be shot up with hormones without my knowledge? This seems so wrong to me on so many levels. I feel like sending her grumpy, sappy, emotional butt to the clinic so they can deal with her and her emotions for the next three months.

*

Bull Balls And Snake Wine

Shortly before I met Chris, my friend Cynthia and I decided to backpack through China and into Vietnam. We called it soul searching, looking back; I think we were running away from our lives. We told our families we were on a mission to save Panda bears and needed to do research. What a crock of shit that story was.

We spent the first few days in China learning the language basics, reading maps and surviving Monsoon rains. We traveled the larger cities of Beijing and Shanghai before setting off on our spiritual journey and looking for wild Panda bears.

We hiked and biked the back roads and dodged numerous offerings of dog stew and fried scorpions from street vendors. We snuck into an outdoor market where they basically sell everything imaginable. I took a few pictures which was totally illegal.



Why yes those are bull testicles for sale…MMM Tasty!



Don’t like bull testicles? How about a duck?



Or perhaps snakes...

It was pretty weird and gross.

Cynthia and I decided to take a boat trip down the river and into Vietnam and we ate goat testicles. Not because we were having a major craving for goat testicles, but because we were on a boat with a VERY offended testicle cooking chef and he was threatening to push us over board. So we ate goat testicles, lots of goat testicles. I was violently sick within an hour and pushed my way to the back of the boat to use the bathroom. Waves of cramps, diarrhea and throwing up ensued. Cynthia was right behind me banging on the door and screaming at the top of her lungs “Hurry up I have goat testicles hanging out of my ass!” I replied, “Well it’s not exactly a party in here either.”

We took turns in the bathroom for a few hours before we both slumped over on a bench, completely passed out. We were awoken by an old man with a long beard. “Drink snake” he said. Cynthia and I looked at each other groggily and wondered if we had been drugged.

Over indulging on goat testicles produces a fierce hangover, trust me.

The man urged again, “Drink snake” while pushing a cup of snake wine towards us. Cynthia and I downed the snake wine and asked for a second glass, and then a third. We were instantly cured from the Snake Bile wine. Yep, snake bile wine. We were cured, lost and drunk.



It was awesome.

I was sick last week and Cynthia emailed me reminding me to drink snake bile, so I headed out to my local Chinese herb store and stocked up on snake bile extract. I told my kids it was fancy honey and they drank it up too and we're better, I swear, snake bile is the bomb.

Getting drunk and eating goat testicles while lost in China; that’s what friends are for. That,and sharing a small toilet while suffering from goat testicle induced diarrhea.



Good Times

Ten Years Ago...

My baby is ten today, it freaks me out.

Ten years ago I was wondering if she would live.

Ten years ago a team of nurses whisked my baby away from me and hooked her up to various machines.

Ten years ago I sat alone in a hospital room worrying…

Ten years ago I left my bathrobe at the hospital for her to cuddle with, while I was sent home to deal with my life.



She got attached to that bathrobe and used it as a blanket for many years…

Over time it got smaller and smaller…



This is what’s left of it and she still cuddles with it every night.
It’s called her ‘silky’ and it smells like syrup and pee.


Look at her arm dangling over the side of her bed, cracks me up.





Happy 10th Birthday, now please stop growing up on me, it's getting annoying.

Talking To Angels

I’ve been taking care of my grandma full- time for about 5 months, she’s 98. When my dad came to me asking if I would take care of her I was unsure, I didn’t know if I could handle it. I honestly believe that this opportunity fell on my lap for a reason.

Death scares me.

I think about it a lot, in an unhealthy way. When I was younger, I was obsessed with death—

Where do you go?
How do you get there?
Does it hurt?

So many questions ran through my head, my parents were freaked out by my obsession; they thought I was suicidal. So they locked me up in a psych ward when I was 14 where I slept in a hallway and watched grown women play with an imaginary basketball and talk to themselves all night. It wasn't very helpful.

Every morning I get my grandma up, we go through our morning ritual of diaper changing, butt wiping and whisker plucking. It’s exhausting, mentally and physically. After all the ‘house-keeping’ stuff is done I sit with her and talk. We talk about death and dying—it’s a bit morbid, as death is right around the corner for her.

These are the things that she says, (and asks) about dying:

I’m not afraid, I can see my momma.
Do you think it’s cold in Heaven?
Why is the light so bright?
I can see Bobby
It’s OK Mariah, I’m not afraid
I hope I get my teeth back
I’m not going to die today, go get me some kit-kats
Stay with me, it’s dark
It’s too light
I love you Mariah
I love you Bobby

Bobby is her son, my uncle, that died 13 years ago, she is always moaning Bobby Dear… Its become a habit—it’s annoying, but sweet all at the same time. We have a baby monitor, so when I’m not out back being her personal slave I can listen in on her.

Heard today on the baby monitor:
Bobby, turn the light down… That’s better Bobby. Thank you Bobby.

After hearing all this I went out to check on her and she was beaming, a huge smile took over her whole face. She said to me, “You just missed Bobby, he was here with a bright light.” I started to cry, but it wasn’t my usual morbid-sad cry, it was a happy cry, a peaceful cry. Maybe all of my questions of death and dying are finally being answered—maybe I can quit obsessing over it and see the beauty of angels.

*

To Spank Or Not To Spank

I was cracking up the other day when I read Mama Kats Blog; she was talking about going “all old school mom” on her kid. I thought wow—good for her for writing it and not worrying about what everyone thought.

I was a spanker; I think a good old fashioned swat on the butt is necessary, especially in younger kids. Sometimes the shock of it is enough to make them stop the behavior. I used spanking when my kids were young for things like running out into the street, getting out of bed 120 times a night and for coloring on the walls. Things that they knew were wrong.

Now that they’re older and BIGGER, it’s weird. I’m 5’7” my son is 5’8” I can’t imagine spanking him, the thought of it is hilarious, he’d probably just brush me away, but when he was four he ran into the street after a ball; I snatched him up and immediately gave him 3 solid swats on his butt, right there in the middle of the street. I explained why and then sent him to his room for an hour—and then I cried for about 3 seconds. That was the last time that sucker ran into the street. Proof that spanking works.


Megan had a few swats too, basically for getting out of bed repeatedly and drawing on stuff when she was younger, as did Amanda. My youngest, Christie, is almost 10 and I don’t think I have ever spanked her and I’m thinking that once they get into the double digits, spanking seems a little less effective. She turns 10 on Friday, and I’ve been watching her like a hawk, waiting for my chance to spank her before she hits the double digits. Today it happened, she lied to me about something stupid—something that was basically wasted breath and didn’t require lying about, it was almost like she did it just too see if I would question her.

Oh… I questioned her, I gave her the stink eye and I threatened her all the way home about the spanking she was going to get …and I said it with a little evil laugh as well.

Well, when we got home, I didn’t do it. My hand didn’t meet her butt. Have I gone soft? Or am I just done with spanking? Maybe I’m afraid of California, when my kids were younger we lived in Texas where all the neighbors were spanking their kids and bragging about it while having a beer.

I don’t know, I see NOTHING wrong with spanking—sometimes it’s necessary and I think people are just afraid of what society will say or think about them. I’ll tell you this though, I know of a few kids in my area that could use a spanking or two just to fix their snotty spoiled attitudes.

What do you guys think? Spank or no Spank? Have you wanted to but were afraid of the consequences? Or have you done it and then lied about it?

You can comment anonymously if you want. I think it’s an interesting topic.

PS I’m still working on the private Blog, thanks for your support. You guys make me super happy and overly-addicted to Blogging.

I'm Going To Get Naked...

So I need to take this blog private for awhile, so if you want to see my boobs just let me know I'll let you in. Relax CPS and Social Services, I'm not going to get naked in front of my kids or anything so get back in your sedan and go home with your little clipboard and your way too creased pants. By the way, my kids run from the house in multiple directions when they see me naked, what the fuck is up with that? It's giving me a bit of a complex. I'll grant you top secret access to this ridiculous story that is my life, all you have to do is let me know in the comment section with a link to your blog, so I know who you are.

Easy Peesy right?

Holy Karma!

I got an email from a young lady in Africa that wanted to be friends with people in America and hopefully learn the English language a little better. So I thought, why not? I’ll send her an email every once in awhile, and hopefully teach her a thing or two about our Country and the English language.

Basically I was just trying to kiss Karma’s ass in hopes that some of my previous um… ‘Mistakes’ would be over looked by the Karma Gods.

In my first email I just introduced myself and briefly spoke of my children and my life here in California. She responded nicely and thanked me repeatedly for taking the time to talk to her.

Hey Karma… I think we can pretty much forget about that time that I snuck into a Hotel and went skinny dipping in the Jacuzzi in the middle of the night. Right?

So I emailed back inquiring of her and her family and what it’s like to live there. She quickly responded with answers and many more questions for me. I excitedly answered and I was actually thrilled about my pen pal in Africa. Our pen pal relationship grew for a few months, and she never asked me for anything. Some time went by and I didn’t hear from her, so I emailed and asked if everything was OK.

She told me that her brother had died and she lost her job. She shamefully asked me for money, and she seemed so sincere and it was only twenty dollars. So I sent it, I mean what’s twenty dollars to someone in a dire situation, right?

Hey Karma… remember last year when I lied to my children? I told them I was sick and needed to sleep when really they were just driving me up the wall and I wanted to get in bed and munch on hot cheetoes and watch trashy TV. I’m pretty sure this act of kindness washes that out. I'm also pretty certain that I've been cleared in that whole marijuana brownie thing I gave my neighbors, right?

A week or so later, she emails me again asking to swap pictures—cool! I was down with that, it makes the whole pen pal thing more ‘real.’ I sent her a picture of me and then waited for her response. A few days went by and NOTHING! No response at all. Then I got it… the Mother of all emails.

She said: Dear Ms M, (that’s what she called me… kinda sexy huh?) I hope my picture is to your satisfaction, I hope to one day come to America and meet you and become part of your family.

WHAT?

The email came from a different account; she became a mail order bride.

HOLY CRAPTABULOUS!!! I sure hope the twenty dollars I sent her didn’t pay for the subscription to the mail order bride thing.

Hey Karma… You wanna just call it even?

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Advice, Secret Clubs & Egos

Some advice regarding bill collectors: My previous post explains how I got some medical bills dropped. I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work with the Electric Company, The IRS, Music lessons, The grocery store, McDonalds, Starbucks or gas stations… trust me, I tried.

Some advice on budgets: Don’t spend what you don’t have. SIMPLE. I’m going to let you in on a little secret, I am a master at budgeting…it’s true. We are raising 4 kids over here on minimal cash. By the time we pay for the electricity, water, trash, insurance, gas, and groceries, we are left with approximately one hundred dollars. YUCK right? With four kids who are constantly stretching out their hands for a dollar here and a dollar there, that hundred is gone pretty quick.

So, how do we survive??
We shop at garage sales and the goodwill for clothes
We only buy groceries that are on sale or that we have coupons for
We conserve energy
We don’t buy what we don’t need
We get the kids on scholarships for their activities
We know how to stretch a dollar…

Our house is the hangout house; it’s pretty common to have at least ten kids here on the weekends, especially for my son, because his room is out back above the guest house (where my grandma lives.) There will be a bunch of my son’s friends here this weekend and they eat a lot! They’re 13 year old boys, need I say more? So, it’s embarrassing, but I have to ask their parents to send food, snacks and drinks, because I can’t afford to feed all of them EVERY weekend.

Times are tough, and egos do not work in tough times…

I’m thankful that we live in such a great area and a nice house. It’s not our house, my parents just let us live here rent free—we are really lucky, because no matter how good I am at budgeting, I don’t think we could afford rent right now, not unless I sell a few of my kids and move to the ghetto or something.

If you would like to participate in a good old fashioned BEOTCH fest email me at: (manicmariah at gmail dot com) and I’ll let you in to the top secret club. Since we are all sharing secrets in there, please include a link to your blog so I know who you are before I grant you access to our free therapy session.

Other randomness… Have you checked out my man’s site?? With all the crap going on, he really knows how to stay calm, it amazes me. He’s at Bedside Tales, go say “Hi” to my ‘monk of a man’

PS Anyone want a psycho bird??? He's free

I'm Too Shocked To Give It A Title That Makes Sense

Remember when I posted about my hardcore note to the ambulance company regarding my overdue bill? In case you missed it you can click HERE for that post which has some very valuable information regarding bill collectors.

Ok, so the bill collectors just called, I saw their name on the caller ID, so I grabbed the phone and ran upstairs excitedly.


Me: Helloooooo

Them: Maria?

Me: No, it’s Mariah for the 20th time

Them: We’re calling in regards to account #...

Me: Yeah I know all about the account, I sent you guys a note weeks ago

Them: Mind if we put you on hold while we check your file?

Me: Sure but can you please make sure that Tchaikovsky is playing on the on-hold music

So they stuck me on hold, but they weren’t playing Tchaikovsky. Instead, they were playing the theme song to The Greatest American Hero; Believe It Or Not. I hate to admit it, but I like that song. It reminds me of getting high as a teenager and eating corn muffins with my best friend while hiding from my parents in the back of my closet. I put the phone on speaker and proceeded to pick at my blackheads in the full length mirror while humming along. The next on-hold song was, Once In A Lifetime, by Talking Heads. LOVE that song I was totally dancing like a stiff robot and singing out loud by the time they came back on phone...I may have thrown in a bit of 'air guitar' as well.

Them: Mariah? {Giggling}

Me: Yes…

Them: Sorry to keep you on hold for so long {Holding back muffled laughs}

Me: That’s OK, I was enjoying the on-hold music

Them: Um {Snort} Hold on please...

Two seconds later someone else came on the phone…

Them: {Laughing} Your account is all cleared up sorry for the phone call, you’ll receive a Zero balance receipt in the mail in a few days.

Then, 'click' they hung up.


I'm good, I'm REALLY good.

Patooey

Our weekends consist of muddy fields, port-a-potties, screaming parents, and grumpy referees; also known as Soccer Hell. Megan’s team has advanced to State Cup, which is a very big deal to the team and a VERY big deal on our budget. Last weekend they traveled two hours north… This weekend it’s 2 hours south.

Cripes.

Last weekend cost about $80 for hotel and food... for just Megan. This weekend is going to cost double that amount if we all need to stay in a hotel.

Shit.

Last weekend I sent my 12 year old daughter off in one piece with her team.

When she returned she was a mangled, hobbling mess of a child.

Patooey.




BEFORE...Fierce and determined




AFTER... Mangled and whiny

I tied frozen corn to her knee and told her to ‘man up.'


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Monday Morning Bitch Fest

Los Angeles style birthday parties are killing me, and it’s a slow painful death. My daughter went to a party over the weekend that was hosted at The Jonathon Club in downtown Los Angeles. The Jonathon Club is a ritzy club—you need recommendations to be a member and the monthly and annual dues are out of control. I’m NOT kidding, the annual dues are more than some people earn in a full year.

Anyway, the party was for a nine year old boy. NINE!! The kids went bowling and had room service and spent the night in a hotel suite. They’re NINE!! I thought about not letting her go, because I don’t want her to think that that type of gluttonous lifestyle is normal.

When my daughter returned the next day I asked her how the party was, she said it was boring and that she had to change out of her jeans because they had a hole in the knee. They’re NINE! What kind of kid doesn’t have holes in their jeans?

This party was easily in the $2000 range which I find to be disgusting, what kind of precedence are you setting when you throw a party like that? Especially for a nine year old boy. The kids would have had just as much—if not more fun—playing hide and seek in the backyard and whacking the crap out of a piñata full of cheap candy and even cheaper toys.

This party was obviously for the parents.

This rant is over--thanks for listening...