What Would Ms. Manners Do?

Dear Ms. Manners,

The other day I was in my local craft store picking up a few supplies with my son in tow. While on my way to the register, I was right behind a couple who was very dressed up, obviously on their way to some kind of event, with a fancy picture frame in their hands, most likely a gift. And, as the lady walked in her fancy, I couldn't help but notice a huge red stain on her rear-end.

Well Ms. Manners, I was shocked, and a little disgusted. I mean, maybe I'm wrong, but I thought most women would notice that kind of leakage before it turned into seepage (Sorry Ms. Manners, I'm trying to keep this as PC as possible).

After my initial gross out over the issue, I felt bad for this woman. Obviously her and her gentleman friend were on their way to a fancy night out. I know I would just die if I got some place all dressed up and had the wrong person notice the big red stain plastered across the butt of my skirt.

So, on the way to the register, I debated. Let it go? Tell her? Just pretend I never saw it? My insides squirmed as she stood mere inches from me, laughing with her suited and tied companion as she paid for the picture frame. She began to walk away, and the cashier began to ring my purchases. Biting my lip, I called out "Miss!"

Discretely I pulled her to the side of the exit. Quietly I whispered "You have a big blood stain on the back of your skirt." Perhaps I could have used different words, I'm not sure, but regardless, she pulled away, gave me a cold look and said "All right" and walked away.

So Ms. Manners, my question is, did I do the right thing? Frankly the woman didn't seem very grateful, but more annoyed by the fact that I was speaking to her. Did I commit a sisterhood no no? Here I thought I was doing the right thing, but perhaps I was mistaken. Please tell me what to the next time something like this happens.

Sincerely,

Motor Mouth in Maine
a.k.a Sarcasta-Mom

Monday Mission- Badly Written Essay

This post brought to you as part of Painted Maypole's Monday Missions, inspired by this lovely post from Bea.

The tiredness Of Me
by Sarcasta-Mom

The charecters in this drama were all very different but shared many similarities. The husband was angry the little girl was crying the little boy couln't stop talking about his DS games, and the mom was scared. But thay were all tired and wanted to go home.

the reason that all of the people were tired and scared was beacause their was a chemical spill up the road from there house and some barricades were put up and they wouldn't let the family drive there car home so they had to park far away and walk to there house.

The little girl was afraid she wouldn't be able to get home to her pets and they would be evacuated for the night. the husband was mad because the city workers wouldn't let them drive there car home to where they wanted it. the City Workers were the real villians of this tale. There needs to be villians in a story so there can be something for heros to fight.

the little boy was mad because the road block made it so he couldn't go rent a new DS game at BlobkBuster Video store and he had eaten all his dinner just so he could go; so he was really mad. The mom was scared they would get evacuated from the house, and couldn't sleep all night. And then she had to walk down the street to get her car in the morning and couldn't take any coffee to work because her travel mug was in the car.

So in conclusion after a careful analysis of the charecters, I would still say that they are very different but still the same; tired and cranky. Thank You.

The Newest Member of the Family

Two weeks ago, I was selling my jewelry at a local art show, when a couple went by pushing an odd looking baby carriage. People squealed over the contents, and when I heard the word "puppies" I just had to go over and see.

Now, please understand that I am not a dog lover by any means. Generally I think dogs smell, and their happy enthusiasm makes them seem stupid and slavish. I have no respect for dogs in general, but just couldn't resist cuddling puppies because, let's face it, they're just so damn adorable.

When I approached the carriage, I was shocked to see how small and incredibly cute the puppies where. When I asked what they were, I was told they were long haired chihuahuas.

Once, probably ten years ago, I saw my first long haired chihuahua. It was full grown, but looked like a puppy. It was the cutest thing I'd ever seen, and I fell in love. I hadn't seen one since, and had all but forgotten the encounter until I saw these puppies.

The woman pushing the carriage gave me one to hold, and I fell in love all over again. The tiny puppy rested comfortably in my hands, only stirring to give me gentle kisses on the chin. It was then that I knew I could not. live. without. this. dog.

The real hurdles were GH and my landlord. GH has always been clear in his hatred of small dogs, and I knew my landlords were not fans of dogs in any of their homes. SO I put in a call to my landlord, explaining that really the dog would be more like my cats than an actual dog; smaller than the cats in fact. He said him and his wife would get back to me.

I told GH he wouldn't have to get me a Christmas present if he let me get the dog. He said he would never walk the dog because he'd look fruity. He said if I got this dog, he got to choose the next one, and it would be BIG. I agreed to everything. I would have agreed to anything. I've never wanted something so badly in my life.

Long story short, I got the o.k. from my landlord, the o.k. from GH and went to visit the breeder, Silver Spoon Chihuahua at their home. A few days later, Loki came into our home.





Isn't he the cutest thing on earth? This is him next to my giant cat.



The kids love him. I love him. And most amazingly, GH loves him, perhaps more than even I do. I've never seen him so happy. But honestly, it would be a miracle NOT to love this dog. He's smart, adorable, and most importantly, poops outside.

Happy Anniversary To Me!

Today is my two year anniversary of being married to GH. It feels like it should be longer, like maybe 100 years, or at least a more reasonable 50 or so.

When GH and I met, I was a single mother of two with a bad relationship history. I was putting myself through college and working full time when we first began to chat after meeting on an online dating site (yes, gasp in horror if you must).

When GH and I first started dating, he was living in Maine, and I was in Vermont. This actually worked out well, as I had a tendency to let things go to far to fast, as in "Sure you can move in with me. Let me pay ALL the bills, please!"

After dating for a while, GH proposed on Christmas Eve. It was beautiful. Then came the talks about where we were going to live. After some initial back and forth, it was decided that the kids and I would move to Maine and make our lives there with GH.

Two years ago we had our beautiful wedding in a ruined WWII fort at Fort Williams. It was a perfect day. We even made the kids a part of the ceremony, with GH presenting them with special necklaces, making us an honest to God family at last.



We wrote our own vows, and I wept through his and mine. Even though it was a very small gathering, it was beautiful, and perfect. The reception was a blast, even if GH and I never actually got to eat our food.

And here we are, two years later. There have been some major ups and some major downs for what may sound like such a short period. Life can be a challenge, but as long as I have GH to lean on, I know I'll always make it through.

So thank you GH. Even though we may want to kill each other at times, I love you with all my heart. Thank you for being my husband these past two years, and for all of the years that are yet to come.

Monday Mission- Class Syllabus

Course: Living With a New Puppy 101
Instructor: Sarcasta-Mom

Course Objective: This course should equip the student with the skills to make it through puppyhood with their new canine with their sanity still in place. Skills learned will include cleaning up puppy messes with the best cleaning supplies for the job, pooper scooper tutorial, proper play activities, crate training, appropriate treat restrictions, and how to survive on little to know sleep due to excessive late night whimpering.

Prerequisite: Parenthood, with a focus on infant care.

Supply List: One puppy, various cleaning supplies, strong coffee.

Attendance: Students are allowed to miss up to two classes for sleep deprivation or other puppy related incidents. All further absences must be accompanied by a note from the student's veterinarian.

Grading: Grading will be done on a curve based on the student's ability to remain awake and focused, as well as their interactions with their puppy. Anyone caught spanking their puppies will be failed automatically. Final exam grades are given based on the number of times the student manages to get their puppy outside before is makes a mess on the rug.

Office Hours: There are no set office hours for this course. Please try to catch the professor out on the lawn with peeing puppy.

I Can't Believe I'm A Soccer Mom

So, it's finally happened. As of 12:30pm yesterday afternoon, I became a soccer mom. A soccer mom. Seriously.

Last year, G really wanted to play soccer, but with my lousy work schedule of working Saturdays, I wasn't able to do it. On top of that, I just didn't have the money, as this was around the same time GH lost his job. I felt bad. My father harassed me for not getting G involved in sports. I felt worse.

This year when the soccer fliers came home, I was prepared. I made sure I had the money together, and was relieved to find out that soccer practice was on Sundays (even though I'm not working Saturdays anymore). I was prepared. I was ready. For one child at least.

When K brought home her soccer flier right next to the cheerleading flier, i figure if K wanted to participate in something, it would definitely be cheerleading. After all, she already knew some cheers, and absolutely WORSHIPED cheerleaders. So, when I presented K with both fliers and asked her if she wanted to join one of the teams, I was completely unprepared when she selected soccer.

"Are you sure?" I asked sceptically. She assured me that she wanted to play soccer, and showed almost no interest in cheerleading. I was pretty proud that my girly girl had chosen to play a more rough-and-tumble sport (not that I'm saying there's anything wrong with cheerleading mind you).

Later that night at dinner, I was talking to the kids about soccer registration, when K announced that she didn't want to do soccer any more. When I asked her why, she said her friend at school had told her that soccer was a boys sport, and she didn't want to play a boys soccer. She asked if she could choose cheerleading instead.

Resisting the urge to call her 6-year-old friend a disgrace to the women's movement and feminists everywhere, I calmly explained to K that soccer was every bit a girl's sport as it was a boy's sport. In fact, I told her, it was the only sport I had ever played on a team in high school. I also reminded her that we would always support her in any choice she made, as long as it was what she truly wanted. I added that it was o.k. to do things that other people didn't agree with, as long as it made you happy. In the end, I said it was her choice, and I wouldn't push her either way. After an hour or two of after dinner play time contemplation, K told me she wanted to soccer.

When you're a parent, sometimes there are moments that you just know you did something right. Considering all of the times you feel lost, helpless, overwhelmed, and just plain clueless, these moments are heady and powerful. Although this lesson in individuality and self-confidence will eventually be buried under layers of teenage angst and self-doubt, I hope this and other nuggets will remain like a buoy to keep my kids afloat into healthy, happy adulthood.

Yesterday, I brought the kid's to their first practice. I was immediately intimidated and overwhelmed by the amount of people that were there. My social anxiety went into overdrive, and instantly I began to panic about how fat I looked in my shorts, that the kids had older water bottles than everyone else, that I hadn't brought a chair to watch practice in, etc. I sucked it up and, after standing in line for days, I registered the kids. The man signing them up asked if it was all right if he put K on a team with all boys. Wanting to seem cool and easygoing, I said that was fine. And then I stopped myself and thought of K and her insecurity. I said, on second thought, I'd like K to be on a team with some other girls. He switched her, and she ended up on the pink team, where even the boys wear pink team shirts. I was thrilled, and I knew K was far more comfortable on that team. As pro equality/individuality/feminism I was, I wasn't going to sacrifice my daughter's comfort, and possibly her chance at loving soccer for my cool points.

And she did enjoy it. And she looked like a real soccer player.







G's practice followed K's. G was so excited he could hardly contain himself, and threw himself into the drills with an enthusiasm, and total bliss rarely seen from him. I basked in it.







Unlike a lot of children with Asperger's, G is incredibly coordinated, and has always picked up physical activities with amazing speed. Seeing him enjoy soccer so much, and the way he interacted with the other kids just made my heart soar. It also made me feel incredibly guilty for not getting him involved in soccer sooner.

So, for my kids, I'll come to terms with the fact that I'm a real live soccer mom. I'll do the fundraisers. Go to every game. Tote the kids to practices with snacks and other gear. I'll even try to talk to other parents. Because as important as it is to be an individual, sometimes it's o.k. to be part of the crowd, especially if it makes the people you love the most happy.

The Things That Come Out of Their Mouths......

In the car, just me and G

G- Mom, I just hate sweat. It's dreadful!

Me- Did you just say dreadful?

G- Yeah, dreadful. It's dreadful the way my back gets sweaty in the car.

Me- All right, just checking.


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


At the beach, K dragging a huge abandoned buoy

K (loud enough for the whole beach to hear)- Mom! I found a boobie! Look at my giant boobie!

Me- (buries head in sand and hides)