Thanksgiving 2011: The Hospital Edition

Two years ago, in November 2011, I spent Thanksgiving night in the hospital.  I had been having some pregnancy related blood pressure issues, so my Doctor wanted me to be checked out before the holiday weekend.  At this point, I was already on partial bed rest.

Long story short, they weren't seeing what they needed to see on the fetal non-stress test, so they called in an ultrasound tech (yes, on Thanksgiving...poor woman) to take a closer look.  There are 4 things that they look for on the ultrasound, but, of course, then-unnamed Moosey failed to cooperate in the "breathing on her own" category, so we were forced to stay overnight.

This is the point where I should have been scared as hell, not of the potentials medical outcome, but of the fact that my sweet Moose was already being stubborn and defiant.  I was naive though.  Sigh.

We didn't have any family in town because they were all coming in two weeks later for Myra's arrival, so we had planned on spending the day with our good friends and their family.  We were responsible for the frying of the turkey (I never claimed to be classy).

Josh left to fry the turkey for our friends and then came back to enjoy dinner with me (he brought the food from their house, so at least that was good).  Our friends then came to the hospital later that night to hang out with me.

Honestly, at the time this happened, I was really upset.  I was scared, frustrated, and, let's face it, no one wants to be confined to a hospital bed on Thanksgiving.

Looking back though, while it may not have been the best Thanksgiving I have spent, it was still pretty damn good.  I was so lucky to be surrounded by a loving husband and supportive friends and to have family and friends all over the country checking in on my constantly.  I was safe and warm in a wonderful hospital full of people who acted like there was no place they would rather be.  I had a healthy, albeit stubborn as hell, baby in my stomach who was only two weeks from making her appearance into the world.

Sitting in that hospital room, I had so much to be thankful for.  And today, at my brother's house, surrounded by family, friends, and delicious food, I have even more to be thankful for.

Beyond thankful for this sweet little face (Thanksgiving 2012).

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone reading this.  I hope that this day finds you surrounded by family and friends, no matter where you are.

Car Conversations: Baby Names & 90210

A few nights ago, like most Americans, we were stuck in the car driving 6 hours to our Thanksgiving destination.  Because we have a toddler, the DVD player was on the entire time, taking away our opportunity for music, and thus forcing us to talk about random things.  Like baby names.

This is the conversation that ensued.  I am laughing just recalling it.

Me: How about Dylan?

Josh: No.  I don't like that name.

Me: I really like that name and I would be willing to use it for a boy or a girl.

Josh: There are three reasons I don't like it.  1. Bob Dylan.  I hate him.  2. Dylan (which is actually Diller) and Fisher Realtors and I hate them too.  3. Dylan from 90210.

Silence.

Me: Bursting into laughter.  Did you really just mention 90210?  Did you watch that show?

Josh: Dylan was the total bad boy.  We can't use that name.

Me: In hysterics.  Is this real life?  Did you seriously just reference 90210?

Josh: I didn't actually watch the show.  I just had friends who talked about it.  Riiiight.

Me: Any other characters that stuck out in your mind?

Josh: Brenda.  Can't use that name either.

Apparently, at least according to Google, this is Dylan from Beverly Hills 90210.

Unlike my husband, I never actually watched the show.

I shit you not.  This was our conversation.  I am pretty sure that the Shell attendant drugged his Red Bull because it didn't end there.

The conversation somehow shifted to Homeland, which is our favorite show.  As a sidenote, if you are not watching that show, you are missing out.  Seriously.  Go buy / rent it now.

Back on point, here went conversation #2:

Me: Do you think that Claire Danes looks crazy in real life because she has those super animated facial expressions?

Josh: Without pause.  Oh yeah, she totally made those faces on My So-Called Life.

Still not joking.

Does it even matter what my response was here?  No, it doesn't because he referenced My So-Called Life within 30 minutes of discussing, with a straight face, the characters from 90210.

And this, my friends, is what riding in the car with a toddler does to you.  Even though it wasn't a super long ride, the endless Elmo and Grinch apparently got to Josh's head.  Either that or the ride and Red Bull actually brought his true feelings to the surface.  You be the judge.

One and Done or Two and Through?!

Before I had kids, I always knew that I wanted three of them.  After having one though, I thought, "hmmm...maybe having just 1 isn't a bad idea."

The idea of 1 was first born because of my utter disdain toward pregnancy.  My husband and I both agreed that I could not go through that again.  It was downright miserable and straining on our marriage and would only be worse when you add a rambunctious toddler to the equation.  Compounding on those factors is the fact that, if I were to be that sick again, I would literally miss out on 9 months of my sweet Moose's life, which is something that does not sit well with me.

As Myra grew through infant hood, we grew comfortable with the idea of "one and done."  Amongst many other reasons, she started sleeping through the night at 6.5 weeks and was an overall really easy kid and we figured that would never happen to us again.  Why tempt fate?

Last spring though, when Moosey was around 16 months, we started to reconsider.  While Josh and I were still fine with the idea of one, we started to feel guilty about the notion of not giving her a sibling.  He and I are both very close to our brothers and couldn't imagine denying her that unique sibling relationship.  The thought of her having to just hang out with us on vacations made me sad for her.

What sealed the deal for me was reading a blog post about a woman who had chosen to only have one child (for really great reasons).  She wrote about the rude things that people say to her (because people can't keep their damn mouths shut) and one of them was "don't you feel bad that your child could end up spending Thanksgiving alone once you are gone?"

Stupid, right?  Well, it totally got to me.  I turned to Josh and said, "that's it, we are having another child.  I never want Myra to be alone in this world."

I know, you can shoot a million holes in this argument.  I don't need you to though because I have already shot them myself.  She will have other family.  She will have friends.  There is no guarantee that she will get along with her siblings.  There is no guarantee that they will live close enough to get together.  Etc, etc, etc.  Stupid stupid stupid.

None of it matters though.  I just can't bear the thought of her being "alone in the world."  So, then, it was decided.  We would have another child.

Once it was decided that we would have another child, we decided to just go for it next year.  If we are going to do it anyway, we may as well just do it.  Plus, I am sick of hoarding baby stuff and the sooner a baby is here, the sooner I can get rid of swings, bottles, breast pumps, and exersaucers.

But, alas, I am now second guessing our decision again.  Here is why: I absolutely adore my sweet little family.  It feels complete.  I never feel like something is missing.

In fact, the thought of adding another child to the equation makes me a little bit sad.  I love my life with Myra.  I am lucky enough to work part-time, so she and I have settled into our routine, especially on our days off.  I love sitting with her in her room and playing "good morning" with her animals.  I love reading books to her while she sits on my lap.  I love cooking dinner while she sits on the floor behind me and cooks her "deep-a (pizza)."  I love going to Kroger with her and watching her "drive" the cart while simultaneously making her Lara Bars dance (yes, true story).  I watching her naked butt run to the bathroom every night to go "swimming in the bath."

Our family of 4 last Christmas. 

I love this little life that we have created and I worry what adding another baby will do to it.  I know that I would love my next child as much as I love Myra.  That isn't the issue.  What I struggle with is the fact that having another baby will significantly change our lives and, quite frankly, I don't want to change anything about our lives.  I feel like my life is perfect right now.

So, there it is, folks.  Talk about a first world problem, right?  Hell, not even a first world problem.  I know people who would kill to have just one child.  Trust me, I don't ever lose sight of that.  For me though, this is a huge decision.

What is your input?  Were you one and done?  Do you have multiple kids?  What was your motivation?

Boobies & Storytime

Today, I was a bit overenthusiastic.  I have no idea why.  Totally out of character.  It must have been the extra 15 minutes of sleep that I got before my morning work out.  For whatever reason though, I decided to stray from my normal, "let's to to Target and Kroger today, Moosey!" and go to storytime at the library instead.

We have done storytime exactly one other time and it was because we accidentally stumbled upon it when we went to the library to play with the toys and get a book.  I felt guilted into going into the story time room so that she could experience it.  I didn't love it.  It is just a bit too too cheerful for me.  Every single adult in the room, including myself has these stupid fake smiles plastered on their face while they sit there acting out the itsy bistro spider and the kids spin in circles and ignore them.

That being said, Myra liked it, so I felt obligated to go again today.  Good Mommy, right?!  Ha...read on.

So, here were are, sitting in this room with all of the other Moms and toddlers, and the librarian is reading Jamberry.  Myra is standing up half paying attention to it while I try to draw her into the story by taking about berries.

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, Myra lifts up her shirt, and yells, as loud as she can, "BOOBIES!"

No f'in joke.

Because someone in the next county may not have heard her, she then pointed at her boobies and said, with a very proud smile, "MYRA BOOBIES."

Keep in mind, this was at the library.

I seriously wanted to the floor to open up and swallow me whole.  Of course everyone stared, but no one laughed.  I am not sure if it is because they were disgusted with us or if it was because I was not laughing and they didn't want to make me feel bad.  I am going to choose to believe the latter.

Right after the boobie incident

I literally just sat there in shock.  I mean, what the hell does one do in a situation like that?!

Thankfully after that, she started to enjoy herself because they sang songs and played with instruments. That distracted her from her boobies.  By that time, I had gotten over the shock and was trying not to start laughing out loud because, let's face it, it's pretty damn funny.

And all of this happened before I had my coffee.  Sigh.  I guess that is what I get for being overenthusiastic.  I think I am going to stick to Target and Kroger next week...

How have your kids humiliated you in public?!

Motivational Monday #2: Unplugging (with link-up)

My name is Becky and I am addicted to technology.

There, I said it.  I am a victim of the "always plugged in" society.  The thought of an entire day without the Internet gives me the shakes.  

It wasn't always this way though.  Like all of you, I remember where I was on 09/11/01.  I was sitting in class at the beginning of my sophomore year of college.  The class was from 9:10 - 11:00 and I therefore did not hear about the events of 9/11 until around 11:15 that morning.  No joke.

I know, it's insane, right?!  When I think of it now, I can't even remember that of society,  I had a cell phone, as did probably most the students in the room, but apparently no one, not one of the 20+ kids in the room, kept theirs on.  Get that...we turned off our cell phones!  Gasp!

Now, I can't even imagine going somewhere without my cell phone.  My cell phone that, as of 3 years ago, has full Internet access.  Even more than that, I cannot fathom turning off my phone at any time, not even to sleep.  How would I wake up without my phone alarm?!

While I love technology and the Internet, I don't like some of the things that it has done to me.  For instance, I can no longer have down time.  It is like I have technology ADD.

And it is not just me.  Look around.  People can no longer just "do nothing" while waiting in line or sitting in a waiting room.  They are surfing the Internet on their phones.  People can no longer drive without talking on the phone.  As soon as we ("we" being the collective "we") wake up the morning, we immediately grab our phones.  God Forbid we missed something in the 7 hours that we were sleeping.  

It is crazy.  

This morning, I looked at the monitor and saw my sweet, sweet Moose laying there, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, and contentedly twirling her hair.  I was instantaneously both envious and in awe.  In that moment, it struck me that technology has taken that peacefulness away from all of us.  

Think about it, kids can just sit around and play for hours.  They can lay in bed and be happy doing nothing.  We, the victims of the "plugged in society," have lost that ability.  It is sad.

Baby Myra helping Mommy type an email.  

So, last spring, I made the choice to "unplug."  Before you either admire me, pity me, or both, hear me out.  I am not actually "unplugging."  I'm not trying to go into withdrawal here, people.  For the past 6 months or so, since Myra has started being more aware of her surroundings, I have unplugged while she is awake.  

What was my motivation for that?  Well, last spring, I was doing something on the computer and she wanted to sit with me.  I said, "one minute, Mommy is finishing something on the computer."  She looked at me and said, "no computer."  It was then that I realized, "wow, she gets it now and I don't EVER want her to feel like whatever is on my computer or phone is more important than she is."

That, being said, there are obviously calls, texts, and emails that I have to take.  And waiting for those things is a good life lesson for her.  Having to wait, however, for me to scan Facebook or read the news, is not the message that I want to send.  She needs to know that she is more important than anything that Mommy could be looking at on the Internet.

Today though, I realized that my motivation actually goes beyond that.  It is also about what I wrote above.  I don't want her to end up like me, being so addicted to the Internet that she can no longer brush her teeth without her cell phone nearby.  I don't want to see her lose that sweet childhood peacefulness.

Deep down, I know that she will eventually grow up and become like the rest of us, perhaps even worse because she will have technology that we never even dreamed of, but I want to shield her sweet innocence for as long as I possible can.

So, that, my friends, is my motivation for "unplugging."  Do any of you have an addition to technology (don't we all)?  Have any of you chosen to "unplug" while your kids are awake?

And now...check out this awesome blog hop!

The Motivational Monday Link-Up is a way to share inspirational posts with other blogger friends. Monday can sometimes be a day of the week that we dread, especially after a great weekend, so let's inspire and motivate each other every Monday! So let's go, let's share those posts!

1. Follow your hosts.

2. Link up as many Motivational posts as you want.

3. Share this hop so others can join in.

4. Visit at least 3 other blogs and give them some encouragement.

5. Leave a comment with blog url so we can follow back!

                        Courtney                                  Shannon                                            Becky

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Ear Infections (aka the decline of our checking account...)

I wish I would have known in college what I know now because, if I did,  I would have gone to medical school.  While I have no desire whatsoever to be a doctor, I know, for a fact, that it would have been cheaper to go to medical school than it is to go the pediatrician every time that I suspect my child has an ear infection.

Hell, I wouldn't have even needed to get the degree.  I don't need the piece of paper on my wall or the MD / DO after my name.  I could have just dropped out after the class on "how to see fluid or swelling in a toddler's ear."

Damn ear infections.  Sigh.  If you have an infant or a toddler, I know that you know what I am talking about because they seem to be the Achilles heel of the under 3 group.  In fact, my Moose has had so many ear infections lately that she now routinely talks about the Doctor ("Doctor nice").

Every single time that Myra gets a cold, she gets an ear infection.  Every. Single. Time.  As soon as she blows her first snot bubble (gross, but true), I know that she will have an ear infection within 5 days.  I am currently batting 100% with her ear infections.

And that is the first thing that you should know about ear infections.  Your doctor will never actually diagnose your child will an ear infection.  Why, you ask?  Because you will always know when your child has an ear infection.  YOU will diagnose them with it and then bring them to the doctor who will confirm your diagnosis and write you a prescription.

The second thing you should know: ear infections are expensive.  Kiss goodbye any money that you used to spend on clothing or lattes.  Ha  That money now goes to co-pays.

Making faces while waiting for the Doctor to come in.

There are a few different ways that ear infections can play out.  The first is the way that it plays out for novice parents.  This is also known as the $100 ear infection.  This is the one where your child gets sick with a high fever and stops sleeping.  You immediately take her to the Doctor because she has never had a fever so high (and she is 13 months old, so she has had other fevers).  The Doctor takes a look and says, "eh, it could be anything.  Too soon to tell.  Come back in a few days if she isn't better."

Wooosh.  Hear that?  That is the sound of a $35 co-pay being flushed down the toilet.

Of course, she isn't better, so you go back in 3 days, and, what the hell do ya know, she has an ear infection!  The doctor asks you if amoxicillian is okay and you, being a new parent, say, "sure, whatever you think, Doc."

Boom.  $35 more dollars so that he could tell you what you tried to tell him 3 days ago.

Fast forward 10 days to the end of the antibiotic and your child STILL is not back to normal.  You go back to the doctor and he says, "yeah, looks like that antibiotic didn't quite take care of it.  Let's give you another prescription."

Annndd...we are now at $105 in co-pays.  For 1 ear infection.  Someday, when you see my pushing a cart full of my belongings down the sidewalk in the seedy area of town, remember this post and know that it was Moose's ears that pushed me into homelessness.

The good news is that once you go through that you get smarter.  Even when you know that your child is getting an ear infection, you wait to take them to the doctor.  You never take a toddler to the Doctor on day 1 of a fever.  It is like the Golden Rule of parenting.

That brings me to a personal story that will illustrate the other type of ear infection.  Myra wasn't feeling well (cranky, not eating well, stuffy nose, but no fever), but, as mentioned above, I followed the Golden Rule and waited 4 days until I was absolutely sure that she had an ear infection.  By this time, the only appointment left is during after hours at 7pm with the Doctor who I can't stand.  What can you do though?  Don't want the kid to suffer, so in I went, at 7pm.

Despite the fact that it is past most kid's bedtimes, the place looked like the DMV on the 1st of the month, which sat really well with my sick Moose.  Ha.  After waiting for 45 long minutes, I finally saw the doctor, who told me, "well, there is fluid in her ears, but it isn't infected yet.  Bring her back if she doesn't get better."

Boom.  There went $35, my sanity, and my entire f'in evening.  Just go ahead and name a wing in the office after me.

Next day, about 15 hours later, Myra's teachers came into my office and said, "I'm so sorry, but Myra has a fever."  Of course she does.  BECAUSE SHE HAS AN DAMN EAR INFECTION.

So, I called the doctor's office only to have the nurse tell me, "well you will have to bring her back in." And that is when I completely lose it.  Like bat-shit crazy lost it.  I literally went nuts, telling them that I was there 15 hours ago and I am not paying because I told the doctor that my child had an ear infection and the doctor saw fluid, but refused to diagnose her.  Here's an idea: maybe the doctor's office should pay me since I was the one who diagnosed her.

Thankfully my tirade caused them to call in a prescription.  Whether it was because they felt it was the right thing to do or because they were scared of the crazy lady of the phone is irrelevant.  It got done.  Sometimes you have to be the lunatic in the room.

And, finally, there is the 3rd type of ear infection.  This is the one where you are there for a well-visit and the Doctor looks into your chid's ears and says, "oh, it looks like Bernie has a mild ear infection" and gives him a prescription.  Your child never exhibits any symptoms and the antibiotic takes effect immediately, so you don't have to return for a follow up.

KIDDING!  That never happens, sucker.

The one upside to sick toddlers: the

unexpected and much-coveted snuggles.  

So there ya have it.  Everything you need to know about ear infections.  What should I take from this, you ask?  Well, let me put it this way, people always talk about saving for college, but college is cheap compared to the ears of a toddler.  Good luck!

What my life would be like with 2 sets of triplets

Holy hell.  I just saw a headline that said "couple welcomes their second set of triplets."  Second set of triplets.  Let's do the math, that is 2 pregnancies, netting in 6 children.  Oh, but wait, they also have a 3 year old.  So, in two months, these people will have a 3 year old, 17 month old triplets, and newborn triplets.  Just shoot me.

Seriously.  Can you imagine?  I did and it isn't pretty.

Two sets of triplets?!?!  All under 20 months?!?

First, let's think of what that does to your body.  Having 1 ruined me.  3 at once though...TWICE?!  Hell, I would just give up.  Resign myself to Grandma bras, girdles, size 17 feet, and adult sized diapers.

On the upside though, the birthing itself would be a piece of cake.  Personally, I would notify the doctor that she could just stay home on the day of my delivery because, let's face it, after birthing one set of triplets (and another baby), the other set is just going to fall out.  "Oh, hey, Hospital Receptionist, don't mind me, those are just babies falling out of my who-ha.  Do I still have to pay for a room?"

After they scooped up the babies from the floor and whisked me to a room (they said I did have to pay for one), I would make a valiant effort to breastfeed.  Too bad I only have two boobs and 3 babies.  This would be the point where I would have to pick the two babies I liked the best.  Sorry #3, Mommy is out of boobs, so guess you can't eat.  The hospital cafeteria makes a mean jello though, so you aren't totally out of luck.

While I was in the midst of deciding which kids deserved to eat, I would then remember, "holy shit, I have four more kids at home."  That is precisely when I would fake a heart attack to let them keep me in the hospital for longer.

Sadly, they would eventually release me and I would go home to my 7 kids.  7 kids.  3 of whom are babies.  How do you even manage that?  Well, the good news is that I wouldn't have to manage it for awhile because, after having my second set of triplets, my fat ass would not fit through the door frames in my house.  That would buy me some peace and quiet in a tent in my backyard while the doors in the house got widened.

Alas though, I would have to go in, and that is when all hell would break loose.  I mean, even if you resign yourself to the fact that you will spend the rest of your life elbow deep in spit up, dirty onesies, and baby shit, you still have 4 other kids to worry about, 3 of whom are only 17 months old.  It is likely that, unless you have an 8 bedroom house, most of munchkins are probably sharing bedrooms, so nobody will sleep.  Probably ever again.

I guess I would then put my house for sale because, let's face it, with 7 kids, 6 of them under 2, it is only a matter of time before the bank takes it back.  Diaper bills and formula (the damn social workers at the hospital said that Jello wasn't sufficient for #3) don't come cheap, especially when you have 6 kids in diapers.

I guess at that point, I would have no choice other than to star on a show on TLC.  It would be between a Kate Gosselin type show where I showed the world what I look like with fake boobs how I raise 7 kids and an extreme weight loss after baby show because America just loves a good success story.  Ultimately though, I am pretty damn boring, so my show would get canceled and I would be left, homeless, with 7 kids.

My "It's Okay" posts, typed from the free computer at the library, would consist of things like, "it's okay...that I haven't showered in 3 years 2 months and 17 days and it's okay...that I sort of wish that I only had one set of triplets."

So, to those poor souls who are expecting their second set of triplets, I wish you a heart full of patience and a house full of joy.  I hope that you have plenty of diapers, a prescription for Valium, a bus to put your kids in, and a house with padded walls.

God Speed, my friends.  God Speed.

It's Okay: Week #4

I have really started to enjoy this "It's Okay" theme, so here we go again.  And, as always, please tell me what is okay with you this week.  I LOVE hearing from you!

It's okay...that I have coughed so much with this damn cold that my abs are sore.  Gotta get a workout however you can, right?!

It's okay...that I am overly proud of my smart little Moose for being able to recognize her numbers from 1-10 (with the exception of 9, which she calls 6).  Let's face it..that's what makes Moms the best.  No one else in the world thinks that you are as nearly as smart and special as your mother does.

It's okay...that when we went out to dinner on Friday, Myra ate ketchup for dinner.  With a fork.

It's okay...that I have already listened to Bruce Springsteen's version of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" at least 10 times (since Halloween).  Josh makes fun of me all of the time.  I don't care.  I also like Christmas carols sung by Josh Groban and the cast of Glee.  I have NEVER claimed to be cool.

It's okay...that I am stupidly proud of myself for waking up early to workout two days in a row.  I am especially proud of doing it today because I am not working, which means that I could have slept in until 8:15 (it is currently 8:14 and Moosey is still sleeping!) and done it during nap time.  I know it doesn't seem like a big deal and millions of people do it every single day, but, for me, it was an accomplishment.

It's okay...that I am excited to vote today.  Although I have been voting for the last 14 years, I still find going to the polls exciting.  It temporarily gives me faith in our system and makes me feel like I have a say.  Again, I NEVER claimed to be cool.

It's okay...that Cookie Moose was the absolute last child (by a good 15 minutes) sitting at the table eating at her Halloween party.  Can you blame her?  She had never tasted such good food!

It's okay...that I feel like bacon should be in its own food group.  We had breakfast for dinner last night and it reminded me how much I freakin' love bacon.  Mmm.

Linking this up with Kera on Nugget on a Budget!

The Idiot Parents at Gymnastics

Oh my goodness.  I enrolled Moose in gymnastics a few weeks ago, and, while it is absolutely adorable, it is one of the most painful 50 minutes of my week.

You would think the worst part would be the parent participation.  I mean, I can't touch my toes, so that is kind of embarrassing, and I live in constant fear that the stretching will cause me to split my pants, BUT none of that is as bad as the other parents who are there.

OH. MY. LORD.  They are awful.  It is like a pissing match of who can be the most enthusiastic while their kid is running wild.

On the first day of gymnastics, there was a little girl who had just turned two.  Her mom struck up conversation with me and seemed nice.  But then this comment came and I knew we would never be friends, "well, Catalina doesn't really do the stretching part because she would rather jump on the trampoline.  I know she shouldn't do that, but really, what can I do?  She understands what I am telling her, but she just won't listen, so I can't do anything."

Yes, I shit you not.  She said that with a straight face, while all of the other little gymnasts were sitting or standing on their squares and the coach was running after Catalina, who was enjoying doing whatever the hell she wanted to do.

I wanted to look at her and say, "Well, I would rather be on a beach chair in St. Thomas sipping a cold drink, but my fat ass is here in yoga pants trying to touch the sky with wiggling fingers.  Life's a bitch." I didn't though.  I just stared at her in disbelief and then went back to unsuccessfully trying to touch my toes.

I get it.  I really do.  You don't want your child to embarrass you by throwing a fit.  But is giving them a free pass to not follow directions really the answer?  What does that teach your kid?  Not to mention the fact that it makes it hard for the rest of the kids and parents who are following directions, but want to be with the other kid who is doing the fun stuff.  I would SO much rather see your child throw a fit than watch them do whatever they want while you sit by looking at your fingernails.

I wasn't too disheartened with humanity at that point though because I figured she was just an idiotic exception to normal parenting.  Oh man, was I wrong!

Let me just interject here that there are a few kids who come from the, let's say "Earthier" side of town. Those are the kids with the names that sound like something that came out of the rear end of a farm animal. Poor, poor children.

At the first activity station, they had a slide.  Lark-butt (or some other similar sounding and equally as stupid Earthy-sounding name) was in line in front of us.  Because she is a kid, and this is what kids do, she got to the top of the slide and decided to stop and just sit there.  By this time, there was a line forming behind her.  Her mother was standing right there, but instead of asking her child to shit or get off the pot slide or move, she decided to stand there with her thumb up her ass, staring.  Finally, literally after 2 entire minutes (which is a long time for kids to wait), I calmly said, "Grass clippings Sweetie, there are other kids waiting, so can I please help you slide?"

Thankfully, that woke up her mother, who then gave her kid a dissertation about why she needed to hurry up on the slide.  COME THE F*&% ON.  Kids are kids and will do things like hold up a line.  That is why they have parents.  So that we can teach them the social skills that they will need in life.  How will little Cow Manure learn common courtesy if you don't teach her at a young age?!

Myra at a different tumbling class (one with less idiotic parents).

The madness continued today, when, during our warm-up stretching, the kids were instructed to touch their toes.  I was looking down, trying to help my Moose, when I heard this gasp that can only be described as the reaction to someone witnessing the second coming of Christ or John Lennon.  I looked up, startled, to see one of the mothers clasp her hands together in front of her, then quickly move them in front of her mouth, in total disbelief, and exclaim/shriek, to the entire group of kids and parents "oh my goodness, look at her, isn't Wanda sooo smart?!"

No freakin' joke.

I then proceeded to get up from the star that I was sitting on and kick her in the gut.  Hard.

Okay, that actually didn't happen, but I wish that it did.  I mean, who the hell acts like that over a kid touching her toes?  She didn't cure cancer.  She touched her freakin' toes.  OH MY GOD.

THEN, we were in the stupid circle of stars and Rachel, who is almost 3, decided that she didn't want to do the stretching.  Instead, she wanted to go steal the stars from the other kids.  What does her asshat of a mother do?  Oh yeah, nothing.  She just let her steal the stuff from all of the other kids.  Why the hell not?  We are raising a generation of kids who can do no wrong.  If you want to steal the stars instead of stretching, Rachel darling, that is fine.  Everything you do is wonderful.  Your shit doesn't stink.

My blood pressure rises just talking about this stupidity.  I finally went over to Rachel and asked very nicely, "Can we please have our star back?  Myra is trying to do the stretching with Leslie (the teacher)."

Here is the kicker.  Are you ready for it?  Rachel's moronic mother looked at Rachel and said, "Rachel, would you like to give Myra's star back to her?"

Are you freakin' kidding me?  Who gives a shit if Rachel wants to give the star back?  She has to give it back.  You can't just take things from people and not give them back.  It is not a choice.  Grrr.  I finally just took back the stupid star because I knew that if I stood there any longer, I would stab Rachel's mommy with it.

Sigh.  If you can believe it, I have even MORE stories, but I am going to stop there.  I am now going to take a deep breath, try (unsuccessfully) to convince myself that not all of humanity is going down the toilet, and start to just focus on the positive.  Myra doing gymnastics is adorable.  Like ridiculously cute.  Her favorite things are the trampoline, the foam pit, and the water fountain.  :)

That being said, cuteness only goes so far.  If this shit keeps up, I am going to put her in karate so that she can chop kick these idiot parents.