So back in December, I decided to go to college.  Took the Compass test and passed everything with flying colors.  Great, right?

Yeah, not so much.

See, 3 years previously I took the Compass test because I was going to go to college (notice the reoccurring theme here).  I failed the math portion…miserably.  Totally sucked it up.  In fact, back then, I would have had to take several “Math Class for Idiots” before reaching the college level.

Imagine my surprise when this time around I was placed in Intermediate Algebra.  My first thought?  How do you like me now?  Yeah.  I was rolling with it,  feeling like some goddamn genius.

**Small disclaimer, I don’t work with numbers, folks.  I’m a librarian.  The closest I get to them is the Dewey Decimal System.**

Then, I had my first night class last night.  There’s nothing that makes you feel like a fucking idiot more than Intermediate Algebra.  Nothing against my instructor.  She’s great.  The class, perfect.  It’s all me.  I’m truly a fucking idiot.

Maybe I thought that the numbers would magically come to me…you know, because I did so well in high school Algebra.  (Sarcasm there, folks…and lots of it).  I couldn’t help but think…what the fuck do I need this for?  Why the fuck do I need to figure out x.  X is a letter.  I need a motherfucking number.  Why….why the fuck can’t it be cut and dry?

2 +2 = 4

Why negative numbers?  Why in the holy hell would I use a negative number?  And don’t tell me in banking.  I bank online.  I don’t dip under an allotted amount.  So there.

Can someone tell me why the fuck I need Algebra to get my degree?  I’ll never use it.  The extent of my math skills, I’ve perfected.  Sale prices.  60% off, you betcha.  75% off, even better.  Hell, the cheaper the better. I can handle that.

My husband wants me to “stick with it”.  Fuck that.  Sure, I just pissed $120 down for books.  However, I feel strongly if I’m paying for the tuition, I’d better have some sort of a chance at passing the fucker.  There’s really no need to piss away tuition money too.  Somebody, tell me I’m right on this.  I don’t care if you have to lie.

Captain “It’s-So-Hard-Living-With-Always-Being-Right” and I ended the old year and started the new with a quiet evening watching movies.  We drifted off to sleep around 1 am or so.

Around 5 am I awoke with a start and a g0d-awful smell in my nostrils.  As our room tends to get very warm easily, Captain “It’s-So-Hard-Living-With-Always-Being-Right” opens up the back door occasionally to let fresh air in.  When I exclaimed “What the fuck is that stench?”, he stumbled up and closed the door.  We attempted to drift back into peaceful sleep.  The smell would not go away.  It got worse.

I got up and was about to open up some windows and doors and locate the air freshener when I was greeted by a huge pile left by our latest addition to our dog family.  After promptly throwing up in the bathroom, Captain “It’s-So-Hard-Living-With-Always-Being-Right” and I quickly handled the situation and came away with a few lessons learned.

1. Beat the living shit out of the neighbor who decided it would be neat to fire off M80’s to celebrate the new year (asshat).  It freaked out all the dogs so they wouldn’t go past the sliding glass door when placed outside last night.  Hence, Syren (aka “Moobie”) spent her time barking wildly rather than attending to business.
2. Diet dog food, while being fantastic with regard to doggie weight loss, will make the shit left by your beloved dog smell worse than putrid, dieing flesh.  I’m not kidding here.  I’ve smelled some awful stuff.  Nothing comes close in comparison.
3. Starting off the new year cleaning up dog shit, vacuuming the carpet a half dozen times and running the carpet cleaner 2-3 times is just not the best way to go.

Is there some Chinese good luck proverb that pertains to starting the new year with a pile of dog shit?

The holidays can go scratch. They suck as far as I’m concerned. There’s grub, this is true, but this said grub is filled with some of the most disgusting ingredients known to man. And no people, I’m not talking about vegetables or canned meats, I’m talking about every known substance to cause weight gain by just eying the shit up. High fructose corn syrup, MSG, partially hydrated soybean oil, CHEESE….. UGGGGGGGGGGG. Save me now.

BUT, as with all distasteful events, the holidays eventually leave us to our quiet lives and then the real spectacular gets under way. The International Holiday.

What is this grand sounding event you say? Well, it used to just be The National Holiday but since I have married a Romanian, it has since evolved to The International Holiday.  And no, it can not be reduced to an acronym.

It’s my birthday. That special day that I look forward to every year. My day of birth. The day that the world became that much brighter. My favorite day of the year.

When I was in the process of divorcing my first douchebag husband, there was discussion, as there always is, about how we will separate the holidays with the kids. When I was asked if I would like to have the boys for my birthday, my blank stare and inability to speak were very obvious. It was like my brain hit a point where it was not able to process anymore. Birthday? With the kids? Are you crazy!? That is a definite big girl holiday.

The problem with  my birthday, and maybe this is actually a good thing, is that it follows the Christmas/New Year revelries, fairly closely. Like 10 days to be precise. And let’s just say that people tend to forget this day of goodness. That and the majority of my parties when I was growing up were snowed out or I received a LOT of regifted items and holiday inspired gift wrap.

But I don’t give a shit. Because it doesn’t matter if its only me celebrating. I mean really, do you need anyone else to make your special day special? Hell no, that’s what liquor stores are for.

And I am so glad it’s now OVER!

The past ten days have been a nightmare of epic proportions! (though when I think back on things, I see that I was/am definitely lucky in many ways!)

Let’s see. I have worked eight of those ten days, six of them in a row and including Christmas Eve. In retail. That alone had its exhausting and nerve-wracking moments. But then I was coming home to bickering teenagers and a house that would put any post-party frat house on the planet to shame.

I finally came home to a clean house one day, and that was only because the 17 year old wanted to go see his girlfriend. Oh…I mean, spend the night with his girlfriend. I may be a “bad mommy”, but yeah…that’s still not gonna happen with my blessing. I didn’t know whether I was more stunned that he actually thought I would be okay with this, or that the girl’s parents were apparently okay with it. I was really dreading sticking to my guns on the no sleepover rule and all the drama that would bring, but luckily that family had other plans. Whew – for now.

Christmas Eve brought some of the worst weather we’ve had in quite some time, but my teenagers and I struck out for an overnight visit to my out-of-state Mom’s….and I got pulled over for speeding before we ever even got off the road we live on. As it turns out, the kind officer could have written me three tickets (one for speeding and two for improper equipment), but instead let me off with just a headlight warning since “it’s the holidays.” Whew. Again.

I was not so lucky with the teens after that, since they started their hardcore man-drama and name-calling about halfway into the trip. I ignored it for as long as I could, but finally pulled the car over and told them to get out and fight work it out in the wind and rain, then we could continue. They settled their asses down after that, but the weather plagued us for another good hour or so into the trip. What should have taken four and a half hours ended up taking nearly six.

I did manage to have a nice, quiet overnight visit with my wonderful Mom before having to come back Christmas day to get ready for work this weekend, though. And now that I am teenager-free for the rest of the school break? I intend to make it count in every way possible!

In addition to more work, I will be catching up on housework, catching up on my writing, getting ready for renovation, and shopping for new appliances. I know, I know. That’s a lot for a “break”. But I still can’t complain since I’m heading out shortly for a movie & drinks with my bestest friend! And I also have dates planned throughout the week with Peter Steele, Hank III, Jack White, Bradley Cooper, and Jackson Rathbone. Oh, and my true love, Captain Morgan! I plan on spending LOTS of quality time with him!

How are YOU spending the remainder of your holidays?

Right now I’m going through a separation from my husband and I live with my Mother and Step-Dad. I’m thankful to them for all they’ve done for me and basically don’t “talk back” or argue over anything.

Recently my Step-Dad became unemployed so he’s home the entire day. This has become a point of stress for both myself and my child. See my Step-Dad doesn’t know how to talk softly and not seem as if he’s yelling. He is very demanding as well, wanting every toy picked up right away, and no doing it in an hour is not okay.

I do ask my child to clean up her toys, but I don’t ask her to do it right as she finishes with one because she goes between toys. So she may play with Toy A for ten minutes and then move on to Toy B for five and return to Toy A. She cleans up when she’s done playing in general.

But he’s constantly bossing her around. Also he’s really focused on food. I’ve tried to tell them to not worry about how she eats, her blood sugar is fine (she has a disorder called Hyperinsulinism). But he is so concerned about how much she eats and how often she eats that I’m afraid it’s going to lead to some issues for her.

But I don’t say anything, except on the food issue because I don’t like forcing my child to eat beyond her full point.

I just wish he would stop being so demanding on her. She’s just 3.

Pamala @ http://www.becauseishouldcare.com

My In-Laws didn’t get us Christmas gifts. This is the first year they didn’t and I cannot figure out why this happened. I asked my husband to pretty please call and ask what the FUCK happened, but he seems to be pussing out on this particular occasion.

You see, it’s not that I care if they didn’t get me a gift, but the fact that I got her some really nice swag all personalized from Etsy, because I thought we were finally getting along better, means that if she didn’t get us anything there’s a whole thing around it.

You know, like they thought we weren’t going to get them anything, even though we ALWAYS got them stuff even when we were so poor we were eating from the food banks. Nothing expensive those years, just a token, but something.

I’m hoping there’s a mistake.

Of course, that doesn’t even compare to the fact that I didn’t get a Merry Christmas or a Thank You for one goddamn gift I bought for my stepdaughter. All $500 worth of gifts I bought her.

Yea Christmas. Thank goodness they’re not my only family and I did get thank you’s and nice gifts from others…but I can’t help but obsess over the negative…I’ll get over it soon. It’s just, you know, bothering me.

Wouldn’t it bother you if out of nowhere you suddenly didn’t get a polite thank you or a gift when it’s been standard operating procedure since you got married years and years ago?

Jerks.

Personally, I don’t own a ton of weaponry.  My guy is tops in that category – at last count, a dozen.  I own a Walther P22 with a laser sight attached and a Glock by proxy (prior to owning the Walther, my guy officially declared the Glock as mine).  However, I do have an affinity for weapons and engage in target practice as often as possible.

Before the anti-gun advocates get their panties in a wad, let me first ensure the readers of the post realize that we are exceedingly safe gun owners.  All weapons are locked up and only myself and my guy have access to where they are kept.  My children have all been taught the dangers and responsibilities of gun ownership and one has been out to target practice thus far (the oldest has no desire and the youngest is, well, too young at the moment).

Why an affinity for weaponry?  First, I was on a firing team while in the Army – one of 5 top shots.  Second, I find it to be a stress-relieving activity.  A lot of focus and attention is required when engaging in target practice.  After an hour of blowing holes in a target, I find I’m rather relaxed – better than any bubble bath or craptastic crotcheted scarf I could produce.

While this doesn’t necessarily make me a “bad mommy”, I think it makes me an “odd mommy”.  Oh, and a mommy that finds relaxation in something other than scrapbooking, macramé, or Internet stalking.

I’m a mother of a 3 year old and pregnant with my second. I’m also the Organizer of a parenting group in my area. Part of signing up for my group involves putting in a birthdate (mainly because the site I use you have to be over 13 to participate). I was looking at my memberlist (90 members) and noticed that I’m one of the youngest, two others are younger than me. I’m 27 years old.

Nearly 80% of my group is 35 and older. And to me this is amazing. The oldest child in the group is six years old. The oldest mom, 48, older than my own mother.

I often say to my mother, “hey you can have a baby still if you want!” She couldn’t fathom having a child at her age. She loves her grandchildren, but having to be the primary caregiver to her is just too much for her. I mean my sister and I (twins) have been out of the house for 10 years, so she’s had that freedom. She couldn’t even imagine starting the parenting journey at her age.

I wonder how people do it. Not to say 40 is “old” but it’s not prime age for sure. I mean your child will be ten when you hit midlife. How do you keep up?

I mean look at it. My grandmother is 65 years old (a year younger than my MIL). Her mother was 92 when she passed this year. So my child had a great-great-grandmother, who was around and that she could enjoy. She still talks of Grandma CC every once in a while as well. But imagine that, having a large extended family around for a long time! I mean what could be better? When my daughter turns 18 I’ll be in my 40’s, with a lot of life to go and I hope I get to grow old with a bunch of grandchildren and great-grandchildren around me.

My question has been, why are people waiting so long? Is finding financial stability worth that sacrifice of time? To me it wasn’t.

Pamala from http://www.becauseishouldcare.com

Yea Christmas!

Yea Family!

Only, a huge portion of my family…well HIS family, don’t like me. Not one stinking little bit.

So shopping for them doesn’t really put me in the Christmas spirit.

Because I’m putting all this thought into these gifts…knowing that what I get back will be an afterthought.

How do you shop for people that dislike the crap out of you? Do you just cop out and go gift card? Do you not get them anything?

If only there weren’t kids involved it would be so much easier. Bah.

My daughter loves Snow White.  She wants a Snow White baby for Christmas.  In particular this one.  Long story short, she has the Belle baby from Beauty and the Beast.  Miss Thang doesn’t watch Beauty and the Beast.  She likes Snow White dammit.

Well guess what?  That Snow White is a pricey bitch.  $49.99 for a TODDLER doll?

What the fuck is this world coming too? Seriously?  As much as I’d like to make my little girls Christmas dreams…it’s ain’t happenin’.  Mama don’t have no money tree in the backyard.

Now, let’s move onto my favorite topic of the week.  Tiger-Douche Bag Woods.  What a goddamn tool.  Dude, your wife, she’s a fucking supermodel.  2., this isn’t 1930, dating a cocktail waitress (or 10) isn’t scandalous…unless you are married. C, let’s all say it together, celebrity.  You live a public life, and if you don’t want to live that life, then pack away those golf clubs buddy.

I love the term Tiger used.  Transgressions?  Excuse me?  I’d cut your “transgression” off and shove it directly up your fucking ass….how’s that for cozy?

It’s the holidays…everyone is happy, peachy keen.  Aside from the pricey son-of-a-bitchin’ Snow White doll, I’m done shopping.  Yes, miracles do happen to folks like me.  Now, if I could only get my ass to the post office.  Those packages aren’t going to mail themselves!