Andrew Zimmern is not a Pregnant Woman's Best Friend

   This pregnancy has given me a lot of time to bow in front of the toilet and fend off shouts from the other room while losing my entire lunch.
    "Mom, are you okay?" Bean shouts as the sounds I make can't be human.
    "Yeah, just fine. It's just hormones." I'm hoping this doesn't make them never want to be Mothers. I can see the thoughts rolling around in their heads. 'Why do I ever want to be pregnant? All you do is puke.'
    Oh, no it's much worse than that. There's fatigue and gas. There's mood swings and sometimes strange rashes that appear out of no where. The doctor swears that a full body rash can be normal in pregnant women. Really? I look like one of the bratty kids off Charlie and the Chocolate Factory after consuming some weird candy and it's NORMAL?
  
    To say nothing about how it affects time with your spouse.
   "No, really Hero Hottie. I'm in the mood." I hide the yawn behind my hand. It's only eight o'clock in the evening but I really could just pass out.
    He laughs. "Yeah, you look in the mood."
    I would protest further but I'm already asleep.
   Of course, that's better than the other times...
    "Hey, are you in the mood?" He asks, clearly hoping for a yes.
    I shake my head, fighting off dry heaves that make me sound like I'm trying to get rid of my stomach through my throat. "Sure, let me settle my stomach."
    "Really? I'll try to ignore the fact that I'm now causing you to puke when I suggest we should go to the bedroom."
    "No." I dry heave a few more times. "It's not you. Really."  Running to the bathroom to puke doesn't help my case.
   Poor Hero Hottie.

   The other day I was flipping through the channels trying to find something to watch that wasn't the Disney or Nick Jr. channel.
   I settled on Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern.
   What was I was thinking? I like this show but really, I'm going to watch it while I'm pregnant and experiencing severe nausea.
   I don't remember what country he was in. I'm sure he has to have pretty good insurance for his job. 'Yes, I'll eat raw meat that's been buried in the ground.'  Seems to be his motto. I think he's crazy. But sometimes it's interesting so I watch.
   But I won't be watching again until after I give birth.
   This show was in some small town kitchen and something nasty was boiling in the enamel pot. Oh, stew. Maybe it's something normal.
   And then Andrew Zimmern helps dish out the 'stew'. The short, happy cook helps him plate the delicacy.
    They lay an entire, boiled sheep's head on a huge platter and surround it with veggies.
   A head. A whole head. My stomach started protesting heavily. My head started spinning and suddenly everyone is shouting at me.
   "Turn the channel. Don't watch. Why are you watching?" Hero Hottie asks.
    I'm going to lose my lunch. Andrew Zimmern I curse you. Who shows a pregnant woman a boiled sheep's head?
   Who eats one and enjoys it? That's just about the worse thing I can think of to eat. To cook. The smell in the kitchen as it cooks?
 
   I turn the channel and spend the next half an hour trying to convince my stomach that it doesn't need to throw up, it didn't actually eat such nasty food. 
  
   In the meantime if he wants to make a show called, 'Bland Foods with Andrew Zimmern' this pregnant lady will be his biggest fan.
 

The Shocking OMG Surprise

    The date is January 26, 2012. The big girls are at school and the little girls are coming in late. Hero Hottie actually has the day off which should be enough to put me in a pretty good mood except for a small, nagging feeling about something that won't go away. In fact, the feeling has grown stronger in the last forty eight hours.
     Really strong. I try to ignore it. I try to convince myself I'm imagining things, I've had too much stress lately or that I've been watching too many Health Discovery shows. You know the ones; I'm Pregnant and I didn't know it. Okay. I believe those women. (Mild Sarcasm)
     But I can't ignore facts. That would be misusing all the great detective skills I learned from watching hours of Scooby Doo. And if Velma was on the case she would have all the clues wrapped up even before the fake monster showed up.
     "First, it was pretty obvious when your period was three weeks late, wouldn't you agree Mrs. Hammond?"
      "Rikes?" I mutter uncomfortably.
       "And then we can't ignore the other clues. The fatigue, the vomiting, the hormones, the sore breast." She pins me down with her nerdy gaze. I swallow and watch Scooby Doo eat the entire contents of my fridge. Hey, my kids do that.
       "Well, we all know who the culprit is." Fred jumps in, just to say something but we all know he really doesn't know anything. Velma rolls her eyes. Why does she put up with him? Just so she has someone to drive the Mystery Van?
        "The real culprit is Hero Hottie." He announces loudly.
        I laugh. "Yes. Yes it is."

     Case solved. But I'm still in denial. I decide I'm going to wait a few more weeks before taking a pregnancy test. If I don't have a positive test, then I really can't be pregnant. Right? For being a logical person, I'm sure twisting things around to fit my state of disillusion.
     And this would have worked except I'm been married to Hero Hottie for over thirteen years and we have two children. He knows me.
     "Are you pregnant?" he asks quietly in the first quiet morning we have had in ages. So much for a peaceful and kid free morning.
     "Ummm, I...why do you ask?" I stammer and stutter.
     The dry look he gives me says it all.
     I sigh. "I might be. I wasn't going to test yet. Because I might not be." I'm not in the mood to talk about this. We weren't planning on any more children. Bean and Abu are growing up. They're not small kids anymore. I can sleep in on Saturdays. Heck, I can sleep all night now. A baby was not on my list of goals this year.

     A couple of hours later after our day had started he returns to the house, holding a pregnancy test in his hand.
    His friend's wife had an extra one left over from a recent pregnancy scare. She was so kindly giving it to me. Thanks. I should be more grateful, it saves me money but I know what it's going to say and I just don't want to know.
    "Go take it." He tosses it to me.
    "I don't want to. Besides you're supposed to wait until the first morning pee." Of course, I'm probably far enough long to show hormones no matter what time of day.
    "Please." He says and I realize he needs to know so he can start doing the guy thing. Making plans on how to handle it.
    "Fine." I hand him the smallest niece, who is one, and stalk off to the bathroom.
    I pee on the stick. And I'm supposed to wait three minutes for the results.
    Within a few seconds it's clearly positive.
    Damn.
    And then I wait. I have a few minutes to collect my sanity. Because I don't want to go out into the living room and tell Hero Hottie that all those plans we were dreaming about in ten years when the girls were off to college had to change.
    We were going to be new parents again. Two a.m. feedings, a baby on the hip, huge bags of baby items just to go to the store. Burpings and diapers. Teething and fussing.
    I was in shock. This was totally and completely unexpected. We weren't planning on a new addition to the household.
   But the pregnancy test said differently.
   I slowly left the bathroom and Hero Hottie just knew by the look on my face that we were expecting.
    And much to my surprise he was great about it. Excited. Positive.
    I was the one wanting to pretend I wasn't pregnant.
   "Why are you having such a hard time dealing with this?" He asks, worried.  "You love babies."
   
  I do love babies. But I was also starting to work on a career now that Bean and Abu are growing up and don't need me quite as much. (Except maybe this week with all the bullying issues.)
   That weekend I took another pregnancy test and it told the same tale.
   It took days for me to even mention it to anyone else and as you can see from the date, weeks on my blog. I had to adjust to the idea of a new baby. It took me by such a surprise, when my plans were not including a baby, that I just needed time to make new plans.
    Until we learn the sex, we are naming this baby, Surprise. Or as the girls like to call the baby, Special Edition Hammond.
     In the meantime I'm getting used to the fact that unexpected guests in the form of babies are very special guests indeed.

What a Bully Leaves Behind

    Back in September I wrote about Bean and her troubles with mean girls at school. Unfortunately, that day in the lunch room was not a one time problem and over the last six months it has escalated into Bean being bullied almost daily.
    My wonderful daughter, usually so full of life and spunk, now thinks that everyone hates her and that she isn't good at anything. All because of the malice words and attitude of one other person who we will call the Mean Girl.
    Just over a week ago Bean woke up and instead of getting ready for school, sat in her bed and refused to go. At first I was upset and threatened to ground her for weeks if she didn't get ready for school because I thought she was just being difficult. And then I started listening, really listening to her words and the depth of emotion behind them.
    "Mom. I can't go. I just can't. Everyone hates me. I'm miserable. Don't make me go. Just let me stay home. I'll do all my schoolwork and I'll help you watch the little girls." She has her clutched fist to her chest; to her heart; as she pleads with me. As if the pain inside is so big and consuming she has to physically put a hand on it to control it.
    I called the school and told them she wouldn't be coming to school because of being bullied. And at that moment the enormity of just how vicious this bully had actually been acting towards my daughter finally sunk in.
   And at that moment I realized things would have to drastically change in her school environment or I would keep her home for the rest of the year. But before I get into where I'm at with dealing with the school let me highlight some of what has gone on in the past six months.

   It starts with a stupid invite for a sleep over. Bean started making friends with this girl, Kay who owns horses and was allowed to invite two friends to her sleep over birthday party. Originally, she had planned on her best friend and the Mean Girl. That was, until her and Bean started being friends. Then, suddenly, Bean was invited and the Mean Girl was left out. (Are birthday parties worth the jealousies and problems that come with them unless you can invite the whole, damn class?)
   Anyway, Mean Girl become intensely jealous and started talking behind Bean's back until one day at lunch she made Kay announce to the entire fifth grade that Bean was no longer invited to the party, that she was inviting the Mean Girl instead and oh, yeah Kay and Bean were no longer friends either.
   Bean came home that day in tears. There was no warning that Kay would all a sudden turn on her like this, they had just talked and laughed the day before while waiting for their rides after school. And she was so hurt that someone could humiliate her like that in front of the entire fifth grade class.
   I told Bean to ignore Mean Girl. That some people were like that and that Bean had plenty of friends. But for whatever reason, Mean Girl decided to bully Bean. Over the next few weeks this girl went out of her way to constantly and repeatedly verbally abuse my daughter.
    So I told Bean to ignore her.
    That didn't work.
    I told Bean to give her sincere compliments in the hope that being extra nice to her would throw her off.
    It actually worked for a day or two and then she went right back to her abusive ways.
    I told Bean to tell her to knock it off and that she didn't care what Mean Girl said.
    This only resulted in Mean Girl calling her ugly, stupid, dumb, and a host of other things in front of all the other girls. But not in the front of the teachers.
   Never in front of the teachers.
   Last fall, during conferences we talked to the teacher. At this time Bean still wanted to figure things out for herself, so she didn't want a lot of teacher involvement but we did want the teacher aware.
   The teacher had some talks with all the fifth grade girls about what it means to be a friend.
   But of course, this meant nothing to Mean Girl.

   Then the Mean Girl took it to another level. She started being extra nice and giving presents to Bean's best friend. Suddenly, whenever Bean would complain to her Best Friend about Mean Girl, her Best Friend would staunchly defend the other girl and tell Bean that she was wrong and was a horrible person for saying such things.
   No matter how Bean tried to her Best Friend that Mean Girl was calling her names, or telling her that her clothes were horrible, she wouldn't listen. And their four year friendship died.
   Bean was devastated. With just a few false words of praise and some stupid gifts her Best Friend hated her.
   We went to the teacher again.
    There was another group discussion on what it means to be friends but nothing was done with the Mean Girl.
    Then for a while Bean found some new friends and even though Mean Girl still tried to torment her, it wasn't such a big deal because Bean had friendship.
    But at the Book fair, after school hours, Bean and Abu were playing in the gym while I was up on the stage closing down for the day. Suddenly Abu comes running around the corner, crying and upset. Bean is mad. The Mean Girl, who had already left, had hit Abu twice in the leg, tried to tell her it was funny and then called Abu, "Bean's stupid little sister."
    I should have complained the next day. I should have said something and made a fuss. And I'm so sorry I didn't. But I haven't seen it and it had been after school hours. Schools usually don't like to take a lot of action if the bell has already rung. But I should have done something.

   After Christmas, Mean Girl decided to steal the rest of Bean's friends. She started being extra nice to them and giving them presents. It takes two weeks for them to start ignoring Bean and then outright refuse to be her friend. And nothing Bean could say would fix the situation. At this point, I'm pissed. This isn't a situation of just girls having friendship problems, these are the actions of a bully.
   I went to the teacher and the principal. They said they would talk to the Mean Girl and Bean.
   Mean Girl told the principal she didn't do all those things Bean said but she was really sorry if Bean thought that. Her super sweet apology worked on everyone except me and Bean.
   For the next few weeks Mean Girl didn't talk to Bean. And in the meantime Bean made some other friends but things were not smooth between them.
   Now, I'm not sure if by this point Bean is just super frustrated with dealing with people that any little misunderstanding is taken wrongly or that these other girls just aren't a good match for her. But there was a lot of tension between them.
   Finally, they decided they didn't want to be friends with her either. That meant, at this point, there was no other girls to play with. She was a complete outcast in the entire fifth grade, unless you count the boys, which she didn't.
   Bean asked me how could an entire fifth grade hate her?
  I didn't have a good answer for her.

  When Bean refused to go to school, I went straight to the teacher, desperate to find an answer to this problem. She was upset with Bean because the other girls had gone to her and complained about Bean telling their secrets and that's why they didn't want to be friends with her.
   I told her that wasn't the full problem. That the Mean Girl had caused a great deal of these problems but the teacher was more concerned about Bean's secret telling.
   Except Bean insists that she didn't. And at this point, even if she had, that isn't the main problem. The entire problem has always boiled down to the Mean Girl.
   The teacher and I went to the principal to talk to him about it. They were out of ideas. Maybe more group sessions with all the girls. Perhaps Bean could talk to the counselor and learn how to deal with bullies.
   What? Did I fall down the rabbit hole? My child has to learn how to deal with a bully but the BULLY doesn't have to learn how to be a decent human being????

   Bean made one more day of school and then last Monday she couldn't make herself go. Literally, she could not force herself to go into that hostile environment and deal with the situation.
   I promptly told the principal that if something was not done with the bullying I would be pulling my child from the school. That statement got some attention. So he spent the entire morning talking to the girls in Bean's class and trying to figure out what was going on.
   Except what the girls had to say was what had happened over the last two weeks with no one getting along. They kept saying Bean had told their secrets. And that was the problem.
   Oh, and that the Mean Girl had been telling them not to play with Bean.

   But when the principal sat down to discuss his findings with me what did he focus on?  Not the fact that other girls had confirmed a problem with Mean Girl but that Bean kept telling secrets.

   I like my girls' school. I'm treasurer of the PTO and have spent years raising money and donating my time to help the school. I get along with the principal fairly well and most of the teachers. My children are well behaved, study hard and always make Citizen of the Year. They don't lie, cause problems and they talk respectfully to their teachers.

   But when Bean is tormented by another little girl on nearly a daily basis, instead of being dealt with, we are told to learn how to deal with bullies and that even though our school is suppose to have a zero tolerance for bullying, no one will do anything.

  At this point, I'm at a lost of what to do. I feel frustrated, mad as hell, and disappointed. I realize that if Bean actually did tell the secrets of these three girls then she has to realize they probably won't be friends with her. That's a lesson of friendship.
   With that being said, that problem between Bean and those three girls is a minor issue. The main problem here is the bullying. The Mean Girl has in the past year done the following things: name called on a constant basis; physically assaulted Abu; put down everything Bean tried to do, including her clothes, her school work and the things she said; told the other girls to ostracized her; and purposely destroyed Bean's relationships with other girls that Mean Girl didn't even bother to be friends with until she saw it could hurt Bean.
    If you Google what it means to be a bully, then the Mean Girl fits the definition. But the school can't see this?
 
   I can see the effects of being bullied in my daughter and I won't allow it to continue. What that means, I'm not sure. Do we fight the school further? Do we finish our elementary school career at home? Do I hire a lawyer?
   I'm not sure. But it stops now. I'm so tired of Mean Girls. 

  

A Valentine's Day Disaster

    Sorry for the delay. Life has thrown me a few curve balls in the last few weeks which I will be sharing in the next few weeks, just not today.
    I rather share my Valentine's Day with you. Funny and a disaster and a reminder of parenthood. Ahh, Hallmark where is the Valentine's card to give your spouse that reads, "I love you no matter what. Through plugged sinks, and broken roofs. Through unexpected surprises and piles of bills. I love you even when we're too tired to kiss and an exciting evening is watching House Hunters together. But mostly I love you because you're you."

    Hero Hottie always brings his girls flowers. For me it depends on the budget, sometimes just a single rose; other years a bouquet.
    He brings Bean and Abu a single rose, usually yellow or pink.
    This year he found roses that were injected with bright, rainbow colors in the stem just before they bloomed. When the petals unfolded they have soaked up the dyes and are a brilliant array of colors. The girls loved them.
     At the end of the day we usually try to hang out or if we're lucky we sneak away for a dinner date.
    This year we were reminded that we are parents.
    And we were grateful for the end of the day.

    This tale starts last December. Bean and Abu, ever the creative type of kids (think Phineas and Ferb, but without the endless budget and better haircuts) decided they were going to make perfume for Christmas presents.
     Yes, perfume. Bean and Abu style. Here's their recipe...

     Step One: Search the kitchen and recycling for any kind of glass container that Mom will let you have. Spice bottles area great but don't ask Mom to empty them so you can have them.
      Step Two: Collect any sort of shampoo, soap samples, spices and lotions that smell good. Don't ask Mom if you can use her expensive face cream, you will be greeted with 'the Look.'
      Step Three: Lock yourself in the bathroom and make your perfume.
      Step Four: Give as presents. Remind people that perfume is not edible.

      Since they weren't mixing toxic stuff together I let them happily create until bedtime. And then I demanded they clean the bathroom until I couldn't tell they had been in there. Which, surprisingly, they did.

      Fast forward to Valentine's Day. For the past few weeks the bathroom sink has slowly been trying to plug up. I dumped vinegar and baking soda down it and that seemed to help for a while and then two days before the fourteen it just completely plugged up and would not drain. It is totally and completely gross to have your bathroom sink clogged and unusable. Growing germs in the bathroom sink-YUCK. So the first day Hero Hottie had off, which unfortunately was Valentine's Day, he emptied the sink and then cleared everything out from underneath the sink.
     Then he was faced with the unpleasant and stinky and lovely task of taking the piping apart to try to find the clog. The pipes under the sink were clear. Great. This meant the plug was deeper into our crappy, old house pipes. He bought acid to stuff into the piping, so it would eat away the blockage. It helped but it also ate part of the bottom of the cupboard too.
     He still had a plug though. He run the snake through the pipes, pulling out some nasty, black stuff. But it was still plugged.
     Five hours later and after recuiting my Dad to help...They managed to stuff enough acid stuff down the pipes to loosen the plug and bring it up with the snake.
     It took nearly all of Hero Hottie's day off.
     We took a look at the object that had caused all this grief. At first it appeared to be a piece of cloth but upon further investigation we realized what the offender was...
     A Baby Wipe.

     I took a deep, calming breath. Which kid stuffed a baby wipe down the sink? They knew better. I know they did.
     "Girls, who put a wipe down the sink?" I asked, actually calm. Of course, I hadn't spent all day trying to clear the clog.
     "I didn't." Bean quickly says. So I look at Abu, who is quietly looking away from me. Avoiding my eyes.
     Guilty!
     "Abu?" I was surprised.
     "Yeah. It was me. I didn't mean to through." She looked sheepish as she shrugged her shoulders, and I could tell she was clearly remembering when she had lost the baby wipe down the sink.
     "When did this happen?"
     "When we were making perfume. It went down the drain."
     "Last Christmas? Why didn't you say anything?"
     "I didn't want to get in trouble. And the sink was still working."

     The sink kept working until enough stuff caught around the baby wipe and completely plugged things up. I told Hero Hottie how the wipe ended up ruining his day off.
    He didn't say much. Guys aren't in great moods after spending all day having to be plumbers.
    But Bean and Abu have been banned from making perfume in the bathroom now.
    They didn't even complain. I think they knew from Dad's mood, they had been lucky not to be banned from using the bathroom at all. And they felt bad for being the cause of so much plumbing problems.

    By the time we cleaned up the bathroom, fed the girls and put them to bed; we were both exhausted and ready for the end of a long day. Hero Hottie bought us carry-out and we ate our Valentine's Day dinner while watching House Hunters.
     Too tired to talk much and too disappointed that our day had been a mini disaster. But really, where is the chapter in the marriage manual that warns that one day all your romantic intentions will be thwarted by a plugged bathroom sink and a baby wipe.
     And kids making perfume, two months earlier.
   
     Parenthood should come with a warning.

   "Warning: Kids will reduce an adventurous and fun couple to eating carry-out in front of HGTV, while the only conversations they share revolve around the nasty stuff coming from plugged sinks."

The Power of WORDS

ONCE   someone told me I wasn't very smart.

ONCE   someone told me I couldn't make the world a better place.

ONCE   someone told me I couldn't write and would never be a writer.

ONCE   someone made me feel insecure.

Some DAYS I allow these words to color my day with gloom and doom. I carry them around like weights on my shoulders, heavy enough to drown me. They follow me around like shadows; no matter where I go I can't seem to shake them.

Those days are emotional draining. I feel inadequate, lonely, and depressed. I'm grouchy and cranky and left wondering if the only thing I'm good at is...well, nothing.

WORDS are powerful.- Sticks and stones may break my bones. But words will never hurt me.- Is completely untrue. It's a rhyme to try to convince yourself that you can just ignore the words thrown at you like arrows and they won't hurt when they pierce your delicate skin. But words do hurt and they hurt long after the fact. Some times years and decades later.

I was BULLIED in middle school and it took years to heal from those WORDS flung around so carelessly by people that were hurting so much on the inside that the only way they could feel better about themselves was to make other people hurt too.

But WORDS can only hurt if we hold onto them...If we believe them...If we allow them the POWER  to make us doubt ourselves. 

So TODAY I acknowledge the power of WORDS.

ONCE   someone appreciated this brainy chick

ONCE   someone believed that I could help make the world a better place, even if just a little bit

ONCE   someone told me that my writing was funny and that they enjoyed it


ONCE   someone made me feel secure and loved

It's time to take out the trash. Throw out the WORDS roaming harmfully around in your heart and realize they only have the POWER to hurt you if you let them.

Facebook Fantasies

    If you start dreaming about Facebook does that mean you need to get away from your computer more often?
    I avoided joining for the longest time, not wanting to add another computer related addiction to my list but I finally succumbed to peer pressure and added my personal life to the Internet. I don't spend a lot of time on there....no, really...only twice a day. 
    But now Facebook has invaded my dreams...

    In my dream I was at the grocery store when suddenly I turn the corner and Wham!! Right in my face is a very muscular Ryan Reynolds without his shirt on. ---Please, no Freudian analyzing here. We're focusing on the Facebook part of the dream, not the running into a hot shirtless man while performing mundane tasks.---
   
    I swoon. "I've been a fan since you were in that pizza sitcom." (I hope I don't giggle like that in real life.)
    He smiles, the fluorescent lighting reflects hotly off his toned muscles.
  
      "And I totally think the critics shouldn't have been so hard on you in the Green Lantern. You were awesome in it." 
    "Thanks." He says. And since this is my dream he is not totally creep out by my sad attempt of celebrity stalking.
   
  "And I would totally go home with you. After all Scarlett is an idiot." I bat my eyelashes at him. What? I didn't really just say that did I? I mean he's cute and all but still....Something has seriously muddled my brain.
    He grins smugly as any male would at such an offer.
    "Well," he says, "How about we become Facebook friends?"
   
     "OMG. Really?" I swoon some more, not even feeling rejected that he has politely turned me down.
      "Yeah. And not my fan page. I mean my real Facebook page."
     "You would be my Facebook buddy?" I nearly scream with excitement.
     "Sure."

     The next thing I know, he's on my tiny list of Facebook friends and everyone is insanely jealous.

     Oh, Facebook what have you done to me?

    When I tell Hero Hottie my dream he just rolls his eyes and asks, "Ryan Reynolds, really???"

     "Hey, don't dis him. In my dreams we're Facebook friends."