Christmas Cards and Beatdowns.

I decided this year that I'm going to send Christmas cards and OMG! I didn't realize how many friends I have!  I mean I really honestly didn't realize how many people I have.  I bought 48 cards and I think I'm going to need more.  When I was online on Facebook, I never realized how many people I hold close to me.  When in a social setting like that, the numbers don't add up

But when you are handwriting these sumbishes, the numbers really freaking add up.  The last two days, however, I've figured out how to get the envelopes to print in my printer.  They look really cute now.

Still no enlightenment on the stomach issue.  After the coffee and the two sausages I managed to keep down this morning, I felt pretty okay.  We were going to go to the Popeye's on Wilkinson Blvd., but the line was around the parking lot and out into the street.  We drove the 20 miles to Concord Mills.  Just for some chicken.  Yeah, we do that.  Don't judge us.  I felt okay after eating a breast and part of a thigh.  I haven't eaten anything else but then I'm not hungry.  I never really hungry anymore.  Dinner is fun. Did you feel the the exorcist head twist?

I'm having problems on the Ex front.  NOT with the Ex.  It's the girlfriend.  Back in July, I posted on Facebook because I was upset that when my girls were over their father's house, she didn't care one whit for their appearance.  Twice I asked her to help them with their hair and she refused.  She left the house looking runway fly but my girls looked like didn't nobody love them.  And yes I know that the grammar in that last sentence was all off but I don't care.  If you are with a man and he has girl children, as the woman in the house, it makes sense to make sure that when they are leaving with you, and people will look you as a group, that they look at least decent.  But she didn't and I resented that someone who was trying to be a self claimed role model was acting like that.  His godmother came on my Facebook and tried to reprimand me.  I let it go but I'm sure by the tone of the comment I left and the fact that I very soon after deleted her entire family from both of my daughter's Facebooks as well as my own may have clued her into the fact that it kinda pissed me off.  Whatever...  The girlfriend took the post sixteen ways from wrong which is you know whatever I didn't really care, but here's the thing, it's been six months and she's still holding onto it.  She actually snubbed me in front of my children.  I was a good girl though, I only called her a bitch and not even loud enough for her to hear it.

But here's the thing.  My mother called the ex the other day because she baked him a pie he asked for.  She called a cousin in Texas to get this recipe for him and she baked it just for him.  But when she called him, he was in the car with her and it took my mom a minute to realize he wasn't blowing her off, he was trying to get her off the phone because the little bitch in the passengers seat was probably making that weird pouty face that looks extra ugly because she is not a pretty woman.  Apparently, she bitched at him all freaking day about why he had to go to my mothers house and you know what?  He did end up blowing her off that night because he couldn't get away long enough to call her and explain and my mother felt bad.  She felt worse when she found out what her simple phone call had cost him.

You don't hurt my mother.  You can snub me.  You can talk about me.  You can call across the country and tell your friends about me, but You. Don't. Hurt. My. Mother. EVER.  You don't mess with my kids and you don't mess with my mother.

X always says he doesn't want drama.  And I have been moderately good about not causing drama.  I have caused my share, I own up to that but I'm not the one causing this drama.  It's been six months.  Let it go.  No one cares and if she cares so much, she needs to pull up her big girl grandma undies and come talk to me about it.  If she ever had any plans on marrying into X's family, she needs to learn to speak up for herself or she will be run over like fresh track under an Amtrak Turbo train.

Funny story... now... the night that X and I got to consummate our marriage, he paused above me... in me and apologized to me.  I asked him why and he told me that he was going to cheat on me when they went to port (he was in the navy) because he had always wanted a white girl.  To my knowledge, he never managed to get an Anglo Saxon white girl, he got another black woman and a Mexican; the other white meat.

And I realize that someone out there reading this may be mexican, let me be clear I am not slamming you or your race.  Honestly all the slurs are directed at her and her only.  This blog is my way or venting my frustrations on her.  If I don't vent then somehow, I may end up venting them literally on her.  And I'm not a nice person when I am venting.  I usually fight with my words, but I have been known to stop talking and start swinging.  I have also been known to carry my knife to a fight.  I'm not saying I would ever use it, but there comes a point in every cat fight where the brain reaches it's shut off point and anything can happen.

Okay, I'm already yawning and ready for bed.  I have to make the sugar cookie dough for cookies tomorrow and if I make it in the morning, I may can make a batch or two for personal taste testing tomorrow. Heh.

Goodnight, Bloggers.

As I sit here with my Sunday Morning Coffee...

I wonder why I still try to eat anymore...

I got up at ten to seven this morning so that we could all have a hot breakfast.  I made sausages, oatmeal, and grits.  Everyone got some sausage and coffee.  I served the kids (Which sounds like I was doing the subservient mom thing when they're teens and fully capable of doing for themselves, but really it helps keep the sanity if I do it myself.) and I sat down with my coffee and my few sausages.

The main reason I made sausages was so that I had something to eat because drinking coffee without eating makes my abdomen hurt worse.  I'm trying to do right with whatever this is going on.  Three sausages in and I found myself trying to keep it down.  Why do I bother anymore?  The things I can I eat without nausea make me fill me up before I get enough.  and everything else well... I have to struggle to keep it down.

A lady at church gave me a pair of size 20 pants because she had them sitting in her closet and I needed a pair of black pants.  Three weeks ago maybe four, they were so tight I could barely breathe in them and sitting down was so not happening... the last time I tried them on last week, I had to keep pulling them up.  Either they stretched or I'm shrinking.  And not shrinking at a healthy rate either.

I normally fluctuate between size 24 and size 22 jeans.  24 close to my period when I bloaty and 22 on a normal day.  The 24's?  Forget it.  I can't even begin to try and put on anymore and I need a belt to keep the 22's up.

I need the doctor to figure out what's going on.  I'm not used to losing weight like this.  Any, you know what?  I don't know where I'm losing it from because it damn sure isn't my Stomach...

Okay, time to go do hair.  Happy Sunday.

I'm in the nursery so it's an easy Sunday for me.

I don't actually suck at this daily blogging thing

There just aren't enough hours in the day.  In my case last night, enough pain pills on the face of this earth. Early Christmas present from my mommy, I got my hair braided. It took two women six hours to twist up just about every strand of hair on my head and last night I could barely turn the damn thing.

But I look good.

I looked in the mirror and saw myself first the first real time after the tylenol kicked in and I saw her the girl I love seeing.  The one that looks her age instead of years older. I missed her.  She's awesome.  She's cute, she has confidence, and she holds her head up high all the time and not just because twenty pounds of hair is pulling it back so she has to.

Back story time!!  Gather round all yee readers!  Everyone comfortable?  Good.

When I was in the fifth grade, I was finally able to go to the Intermediate school in my district.  We had moved to Twinbrook a year or so before hand, but my mother had continued to take me every morning to Red Bank schools.  At middle school she decided it was time to send me to Ocean schools because she worked at the middle school in Red Bank and she knew two things.  I would get special treatment because my mother was a big wig in the school (She was an English teacher but depending on the circumstance she wielded almost as much power as the principal.  A lot of people were afraid of her.) and two, eventually I would end up in her class.  She wanted neither.  So she put me in OTIS; Ocean Township intermediate School.

Now the summer before fifth grade, my mom thought I should try the newest style among black women at the time: The Jehri curl.  Mothers, don't ever do this to your daughters.  If, God forbid, this hairstyle ever comes back, don't do this to your kid.  You might remember this style.  Think Michael Jackson early 90's or if you've ever seen the movie Coming to America, just remember Soul Glo and you know exactly what I'm talking about. Anyway, whatever.  The problem was not long before that I had gotten a relaxer in my hair and you can't have any chemicals in your hair when you get a curl so my hair went from down my back to maybe an inch long in the space of a day.  I cried.  Hard.

I had a deep voice, I had a chest so small the bra size was actually measured in negative numbers as in a training bra (What exactly are they training?) was totally pointless.  I insisted on wearing one but it was still totally pointless.  And now I had boy hair.  And I hated wearing frilly, girly anything.  I wore jeans and sneakers.

First day at the bus stop and the bus driver, her name was Doris decided what better way to keep her bus in order than by separating the boys from the girls.  She put me with the boys.  I stood there looking at her like she was stupid.  Couldn't she see that I was a girl?  I mean wasn't it obvious in my polo shirt, jeans and blue sneakers?  Didn't my black and hunter green bookbag give it away?  Really?  She thought I was a boy?  I didn't see it.  When she yelled at me I told her I was a girl.  She then accused me of trying to sit with the girls in hopes of getting a girlfriend and then read me her own version of the riot act on why kids shouldn't think about boyfriends and girlfriends in fifth grade when we were all about nine and ten.  I calmly repeated that I was a girl and I wanted to sit with the girls.  She told me that she didn't have time for this and to take my seat.  I took a seat.  With the girls.  To which she physically grabbed my shoulder and tried to force me to the back with the boys.  I stood up, dropped my back and listed my shirt to show my very useless training bra and asked her would a boy wear this. (My mom had insisted I get the trainers with the pretty pink and white checks and the pink boy smack in the middle.  I had the trainers that actually looked like bras not sport bras.)

Well, that shut her up.  Set the bus laughing so hard we literally rocked it and poor Doris never ever regained the upper hand over anyone on that bus again.  She did report me.  They tried to suspend me.  My mother marched into the school and asked them if they rather I should have dropped my pants and showed them the girly underwear instead of raising my shirt and showing my bra.  Would that have been acceptable?  They didn't actually have an answer that I heard for this but they let me back on the bus and back in school.  My mother made me wearing earrings at all times and she started getting me braids with extensions in my hair then.  I looked like a girl.

Doris retired from Ocean after that.  I really wish she hadn't've because then we ended up with a leacherous old man that liked to touch the girls on the bus.  Mainly me.  To this day when I have the really bad nightmares, the two most prominent faces are of that old guy and the guy that raped me in college.  In the bus drivers case I was saved in my eighth grade year (two years of this abuse in) by a bus lot monitor that finally looked up and noticed that I was trying to get away from this guy.  He had noticed that of the two busses that went to my complex I always tried to get on the other one that didn't drop off near my house and that I would look very upset when they made me get on my assigned bus.  He noticed that on the days I wasn't on my bus, my name appeared on the late bus list (which meant that I had chosen to walk an extra mile home versus the less than eighth of a mile my bus would have dropped me at.) and then he saw what he needed to see which was the old man trying to actually touch me.  I missed the bus that day.  A random teacher with a CDL license drove the bus that day.  I was taken to the office and my mom was made to come in and listen while I described the last two hellish years of having to be with that driver.  They were all made to listen to the stuff I had been trying to tell them for two years.  The stuff they had been ignoring.  Six more girls came out in the next few weeks.  Of the seven of us, one other girl and I were on the worst end of it.  He had actually touched her.  The last I heard from him was he was arrested.  I honestly didn't care if he burned in hell.  We got a female driver for the remainder of the year.  The boys drove that poor woman to shaking but we got a female.

Ninth grade I joined the band and most days I stayed after for marching band practice so that my mom came to get me at five ish.  I took the bus occasionally but not very often.

So anyway.  Back to the matter at hand.  My head.  I may post a pic when it stops really hurting but for now, I am on my way to my buddy's house so I can watch Reign with her.  Trying to make this a Thursday tradition.

Ta Bloggies!  Love you!

Finally working on me...

For years I have been all about my kids.  Only about my kids and never about me and while I felt somewhat rewarded (not really but sorta.) The me that I was before I was We, slowly slipped into a me that I don't recognize.  Give me a minute that was a little more me's and I's than I'm used to I have to think about that...

Anyway, my health declined.  If I had a pain, I let it go because paying for my kids to see a doctor or dentist was more important than paying the copay for myself to see the same.  My eyesight declined not only because I didn't wear the glasses I was given many eons ago but I got Shingles and it spread to my eye.  It weakened my eyesight so much that the least amount of sunlight nearly blinds me.

I knew that I was going downhill, but apparently my teeth were on a skateboard to hell.  With each of my pregnancies, I basically lost a tooth.  Cavities that got bigger and bigger until they became holes all because in most places, you cannot see a dentist when you are pregnant. A rule that I really feel should be changed. Then we were military and if you are an adult and not the service member, getting your teeth knocked out by a crosstown bus is easier than getting the approval to see a dentist.  Take it from me, if you are a military spouse, have a job that has dental coverage or your teeth will take the express train to hell.  I was approved to get a root canal three times on the same tooth (Which honestly I didn't know was possible since I thought the point of a Root Canal was to take out the roots.  What's left to hurt when you take out the roots?) but they don't pay for any of the crown so after the root canal if you don't get a crown all the pain you just suffered through goes to crap.

I just actually got back from the dentist.  I knew going in that I was going to lose anywhere between one to four teeth as they were so bad.  I DID NOT expect her to say that all four had to come out AND that I had TWELVE cavities.  Honestly, I think it would probably would have been better for me to let these sumbishes rot out, get them pulled and get dentures.  As it is, in a few weeks to a few months, I will be wearing a partial... but hey!  I'm going to be able to smile wide again!

Fixing me is starting to hurt.  But I can't complain.  At least when I drop dead for whatever reason, I will have good teeth and a moderately healthy inside.

Always looking up!

Going to try and do a little writing before I go out to pick up Mommy.  Blog ya later!

Short Blog Today

Mainly because nothing happened.  Really.  Nothing.

I took my mom to her Dr.  Then to run a few errands and then I came home.  I tried to do a little writing and I did get some done but then I turned on the music and well... Random Dance party time...

I guess I could talk about how music makes you feel certain ways.

When I was about thirteen years old I was browsing channels trying to find something to watch and of all the channels to stop on, I stopped on PBS.  I know right?!?  Anyway, this long hair Greek God was playing the piano with one hand and as I sat there and watched, he spun around, the lights went up and BOOM! I was caught hook line and sinker.  That man was Yanni and for the next five years I loved him.

It didn't matter that he was probably forty years older than me, I was caught.  This was my celebrity crush.  I spent more years than I would like to admit writing my name a Claudette Hryssomallis and it didn't matter that I couldn't pronounce the last name I hoped to have one day.  In my mind everyone would call me C.H.  I actually wrote an entire story series around him and a guy that looked like him.  They had some pretty steamy sex scenes.  Looking back now... ewww.

Over the years my love for his music ebbed and flowed and eventually became what I listened to when I was sad or depressed.  I don't know when I stopped listening to him only then but in the past few years, I don't use him to lift my mood.  I think it might have something to do with him cutting his hair and trying to go mainstream.  To each his own.  I still listen to him, just not for any specific reason now.

Now when I need a pick me up, I turn to upbeat songs like I'm a gummy bear or the Hampster Dance or my favorite... Walking on Sunshine by Katrina and the Waves.

Songs like that cue up random dancing.  Sometimes naked dancing.  My kids are generally afraid of me during Random Dancing.  I like that.  Random Dancing happens a lot more than it really needs to happen for just that reason.

I'm a stinker, aren't I?

Nothing really to discuss blog wise tonight though.  My tum tum still hurts from yesterday and I am trying not to take another Tramadol.  I need to go wash my hair.  Dentist in the morning.  My first in over four years.  Wish me luck.

Bright shiny day dimmed a bit...

Just got back from the Gastro doc... Yippie, I get to have the total irrigation done.  Both ends in one day.  I'm going to be hungry as a mug when I wake up.

The nurse was exceptionally unhelpful when totally not answering my questions.  I'm scheduled at a quarter to seven in the morning for this thing and I have to start taking the stuff the night before and six hours before which means that I will be up past midnight.  I'm not at my best past midnight.  I can do it.  I don't want to, but I can do it.

Based on the pains that I have and the other factors that are too yucky to mention here he feels that yes, we should go down both ends in one day just to see.  The fact that I had a close relative pass away from stomach cancer did not add any sunshine to this visit.  In fact my doctor thought it would be a great idea to tell me everything he tells patients who he thinks need double irrigation. (I am not calling the procedures by their names. I even put it in my calendar as Garden hose.) He wants me to do some looking into stomach and colon cancer.

The fact that the pain that drove me to the er that night was on my left side and the inflammation was on my left side means that the Motrin was what caused the pain I was feeling not the colon problem.  He's not even sure that the colon inflammation would have been noticed until it was a really big issue.  And in his opinion, when things like an inflamed colon can go unnoticed, they tend to point towards the cancer side of the scale.

So operation scare the shit out of Claudette was a rousing success!

And I'm going to worry.  I inherited that ability from my mom.  Jump to the worst possible conclusion almost immediately because there is no one there to say, "Calm down."

Why is that doctors always know exactly which spots to press on your body to make you radiate with pain?? Seriously??  I was doing very well.  Hadn't had a bad Tummy day since Sunday afternoon and before that possibly Thanksgiving because I seriously over ate. But now, he hit that one shit spot just under my ribcage and my entire abdomen feels like I've been doing crunches are drinking a gallon of milk.  Not nice dude.

Grilled/ fried/ baked BBQ chicken for dinner (The kids defrosted a BJ's pack of drumsticks and they all need cooking.  I may be back with the Q blog tonight but I'm gonna say no right now because the need for a tramodal is pressing very hard right now.  You know what?  Let's just assume that I won't be back until tomorrow.

Love peace and Hair grease!

Ow! Hiccups hurt.

night!

Oh Money, money! Wherefore art thou money!!!

For deny thou creditors and return to my bank or if thou wilt not, be but sworn to Duke, Tr. Lawing, and the City of Charlotte and I will no longer be in debt!

I'm in a funny mood at the moment.  I just paid my rent and my electric bill so money here, money gone.  It seems that my bank account is only a brief layover for George, Abe, and Ben... I don't really mind.  Then not staying here means that I can can have water, heat, lights, and a roof over my head so begone you past presidents!  Do not tarry in mine presence much longer!

I remember reading Shakespeare in high school ... see I went to what people now refer to as the white school.  I lived in an upper class, mostly white, predominantly Jewish school district.  Compared to the education handed out in some other school, I would guess that labeling my school as a white school means I got a good one... huh... Anyway, ninth grade year I had this AWESOME English teacher (My second actually because I was first placed in remedial English and my teacher Mrs. Gilmore took all of two weeks to decide that this was just wrong and had me transferred to AP English.) named Mr. Looney.  Yeah that was his name Paul Looney, one of the best English teachers of all time.  We read the Lord of the Flies (Didn't much like the book, HATED the movie) a few others and quite a bit of Shakespeare. I remember sitting in class during Romeo and Juliet wondering why I never ever got called to read Juliet and then to my total surprise, the day we read the balcony scene out loud in class, I got to read it!  Oh Frabdous day!  I loved Romeo and Juliet.  Never quite understood why they had to die and subsequently take down 80% of the cast with them nor how they could have perpetrated this whole thing being what? 14? 15?  I guess times were different then...

I meet with the internal doctor today.  He's going to make the final decision on whether or not I get the garden hose up the bum or not.  For freak out purposes, we're going to go with yes I'm getting it and he's just the fluff and executor. 

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, one of my smoke detectors decided to beep.  It beeped twice and never beeped again but it was enough to wake me out of a sound sleep and wonder which one of the effers is dying.  I have this thing with smoke detectors.  They are on ceilings.  I am short.  I don't like heights so a ladder, even my little four foot one is a huge point of anxiety for me.  To help with this, TR Lawing put the smoke detector in the girls room where I reach them on my tippy toes but there's still the one that hangs just past the half wall on the second floor of my house.  I can get it but it requires holding onto a door frame and perching on the half wall while trying to reach this and hanging a grand probably a million feet over my living room floor.  No.  Just No.

Have a great friend, D who came over and re attached them and put new batteries in and made then all stop their infernal beeping and work again.  But that was almost six months ago so now we have reached the season of them dying and I am working up the courage to prostrate myself at his feet and beg him to return to make the beeping stop because me on ladders or perched on half walls while hovering over my living room.  No.  Just No. Let the fuckers beep.  It was once pointed out to me that if I call the local fire department, some of them have it where they will send a fireperson out to check and maintain your detectors.  Mine laughed at me when I asked about this.  Brings us back to me dangling off a wall. No. I may have to prostrate myself.  Le Sigh...

In other news, I am working on banishing thoughts of romance from my head by concentrating on my newest story... a romance.  Or maybe with my other story... a romance...  See, I have this theory that if I concentrate on the romantic lives of totally made up people who fall into situations that are sorta absurd, I won't have time to concentrate on my life.  Thus I will be happy...er... happier... and hence I will not feel the need to walk into traffic.  Plus I can totally go live in my fantasy world where I am loved to the moon and back by Jude Law.

Did I mention that I have a thing for Jude Law? I do.  He's my celeb hottie.  My real life hottie is very comparable to him but DAMN IT! I wasn't going to go into that today!

Ugh... time to go get dressed. Or rather finish getting dressed.  I've been sitting here half dressed for like an hour.  It's part of the beauty of being home by myself while the kids are at school.  I get to have naked time and half naked time.  It's actually fun.  I love to put on music and dance during naked time.  That was probably TMI but it's a thought and action that makes me grin like a schoolgirl and I take my happy when I can get it.  So one more romp around the house for half naked time and then I have to get dressed and go do the doctor thing.

Ta!  See ya later!!

Peter Piper picked a peck of pickles....

First off, Today is a special day.  Today is one of my best friend's birthdays.

Happiest of happy birthdays Andi!!  I love you!!

I am one of the few people in my family that can say that rhyme.  As I know of, I am the only one in my family that can say it drinking...

That's a whole new kind of sad.  But a funny sad.  I'm actually laughing about that...

So in case you haven't guessed by the title, This is the P blog... I'm going to have to slow down... I'll be at Z in no time with nothing left to do...But start back at the beginning!

Okay, I have no idea what that P is made up of, but it looked cool so I snagged it for tonight's blog.  It looks almost like Groceries.  Pretty sure if I actually went to the site that hosted the image I'd find out but I'm lazy and at the moment I am watching Once Upon A Time.  At this point considering it's a new episode the fact that I'm writing during it means I love y'all.  Okay so I admit it, I'm blogging during the commercials... I still love y'all though...

So I thought about a topic for P for a few days and the only topic I could come up with that I could write anything about was parenting.

Now bear with me, I'm going to try not to make this one of those blogs where I condemn people but I may get off track.

In my life I have had the chance to observe a lot of parents and the way they interact with their children and I have been around long enough to see how some of those children grow up.  Sometimes I'm happy, sometimes I'm appalled.

When I was a teenager I had a friend, H.  She was, for lack of a better word horrible.  She wasn't a champion bather and she littirally ran roughshod over her mother, a weak spirited woman that I actually never saw again after high school.  They lived in a one bedroom apartment and her mother let her have the bedroom while she slept in the living room.  The place was always cluttered with dolls and cats and I never liked going in because the smell was just... Anyway, H and I were the same age and somewhere in high school, her mom gave up and sent her to live with her dad in NYC.  Her dad wasn't any better in the parenting department as far as I am concerned and the result was that H ran rampant.  His passing away and leaving H a lot of money didn't help.  I kinda lost track of her after that but then shortly after I had Jay our paths crossed again and honestly all I can see was the kind of woman my mother always warned me to stay away from so conclusion the hands off passive parent thing was not something that was a good choice here.

Again when I was a teen I babysat for my mother's coworker and her husband.  They also lived in a one bedroom apartment but they turned the dining room into a bedroom for their boys.  They were very hands on and as a teenager, I always thought they were a little too into their sons' lives.  But then I was a teenager who only craved freedom and space anyway I could have it.  Because the mom was friends with my mom I was able to keep up with them for a awhile.  We all lost touch when her oldest son was in high school and I just went on a Google search and found her youngest son who is now 18 and a senior in college.  I do know that not long ago, her first son made her a grandmother or so I'd heard but both boys have awesome career paths and were/are smart as whips.  So in this case, I guess interactive parenting worked.

My mom bought me up the way she was brought up. She grew up in the age of Children were to be seen and not heard and spare the rod, spoil the child.  She didn't really expect me to be silent unless spoken to.  We talked.  She encouraged that.  Did I tell my mother everything I did? No.  If i had I'd be in a convent and she probably would have had a couple of strokes by now.  I can't say I was a bad girl but I wasn't as glinty gold as I looked from a distance.  Enough said in a blog.  

But I digress, I look around at some parents today and I can't fathom the childhood they had that would give them any indication that they way they are parenting is stellar.  Since I have been down here in Charlotte, I have seen parents who let their children basically run wild.  And I'm not talking about the run wild as mention with H above, I mean well and truly wild.  They don't care if their child steals, swears, and treats people around then like trash.  Across the street from my house I have a woman that moved in about two years ago.  For the first year we never saw her kids.  Didn't know she had kids but this year, they are every freaking where.  Most recently, they have been chasing each other all over the yard with a cap gun or locking each other out of the house.  The few times I have seen her she has been yelling at her kids from the car.  So I'm going to go with hand off parenting here.

I myself am trying the interactive yet hands off approach with my kids.  I'm in their face, I back off, I'm here when they need me, I'm quietly watching, I'm up in their rooms while they are at school, I'm logging onto their facebooks to read the messages and see what they're posting.  I'm all over my kids lives, especially my daughters.

There was a post on Facebook that I used to see. "Parents: Please remember that when you are done raising your kids, the rest of the world has to deal with them."  I take this to mean try and teach them the golden rule.  Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.  If you want others to treat you with respect you must treat them with the same.

There is one kind of parent that really annoys me.  Those are the parents that drag each other on shows lik Maury and demand paternity tests.  Shaniquanaynay is dragging Demarion on the show because he knows he the daddy.  He knows it.  Ain't no way no how that he cain't be the daddy!  She ain't slept wit no one else and the chile even look like him!!  She's up there acting a fool and Maury gets the results and the baby isn't even his.  So then she's crying and running off stage and all unconsolable. But here's the kicker, she comes back with two more guys and she's back acting a fool.  Not as much of a fool since at this point she's admitting to both of these poor men that she was sleeping around on them.  one of them is denying he's the dad and the other is hoping he is the dad but then, neither of them is the dad.  She runs off the stage crying and is inconsolable.  But wait, now this woman is back and she has another man to test.

At what point does this woman realize that every single show will one day be in reruns and her child will see what a fool she's acting on national television.  If you were that child and you grew up and saw your mother acting like that would you or would you not be embarrassed.  Me personally, I would be embarrassed.

I'm no expert on parenting nor do I reserve any right to say that anyone is doing it wrong.  I just simply don't agree with most people's practices.

As always, I'm interested to see if anyone has any input.  Feel free to comment and give me your thoughts on parenting.  What makes a good parent to you?  What kind of a parent are you or do you hope to be?

Well, it's late and while my favorite movie is on, it is after midnight and it won't go off until after 2 am and even that aside, it's a serious tear jerker (A romance...The Holiday I am totally in love with Jude Law.  He's my celeb crush.  If you are out there Jude and read this, please come kiss me.  I don't want anything else from you... right now.  Just a kiss) and I don't want to go to sleep crying... again... (Let it go.)

So goodnight! Sleep tight!  Tomorrow is Cyber Monday so if you have online shopping to do this is the day!  Have fun!!

Sitting in church...

So first of all, my purse smells like stale fried chicken because my family and I went to Golden corral two weeks ago and they stuck a piece of fried chicken in my purse to take home.  I JUST found it.  Freaking eww on so many levels.

I'm sitting in church, hence the title of this blog, and its first Sunday.  This is the Sunday  when the people born in this month and those married in this month stand to be recognized.  At the end of all of that reverend always asks who would like to be married in that month and I always raise my hand.  Last month, I raised both my hands and told them that this month, I was gonna throw a foot in there for good measure.  

Thankfully this month, reverend didn't ask who would like to be married. Whether this was an accident and he forgot or he just didn't want to see me embarrass myself again I don't know, but he didn't ask.

Its just as well, honestly.   December marks three things for me.  First,  my youngests birthday is this month.  Second, that another year is ending and its one more year spent by myself not for lack of trying... especially hard this year actually.... and Thirdly, I will probably be invited to someone's for the new years and one more year I will have to watch couples  kiss in the new year.

I think three is the one that will break me.  It does every year although most years I make sure to be close to piss  drunk by midnight so that  when tears run down my face I can blame it on the alcohol.  Everyone usually buys that explanation.  I cry, they coo, we all go about our lives.  Same script different year.

I think this year I will just skip the new year altogether. I won't be missed.  So I think I'm going to leave the kids to their holiday with the ex, my mom to church and sit somewhere and make the same wish I make every year; that this be the last one I end not happy.

After this I just have to get through Valentine's Day without climbing a water tower and I should be fine  until my birthday when the whole viscous cycle begins again....

Well I AM in church and several people have complained that I and several of the young folk never pick their heads up for messing with their electronic gadgets.  I guess I'll listen.

See ya later.

O...O...O... Oh!

Yes! I am returning to the Alphabet blog!!

I sat and thought a lot about this blog.  At first only one O word kept coming to mind but in the end I really didn't want to blog about orgasms.  One because I don't remember what those feel like to describe it and two because I didn't really want to do another blog that had to do with sex.  I already did K for Kinky and I may have scared a couple of people with that one.

This was is sort of connected to sex but not really.  I chose Online Dating.

We have Match.com. eHarmony, Plenty of Fish, Single parents Dating, Military Singles, OK Cupid, and about a million other sites out there but do any of them really help?

I have one friend that met her husband on I think Match.com and they're happy.  They're good.  They are the success story that the site likes to tell everyone.

I probably have a free profile on all of them... including Christian Mingle.com.  The problem with that is they don't allow you to communicate with each other if all you have is the free membership.  Paying members can message you and see all the stuff you want them to see but if you aren't a paying member you can't write them back.  Yes Match.com has free communications weekends but honestly, I never see the commercials until Saturday night when the weekend starts on Friday and ends Sunday.  Not enough time to update my profiles.  Or remember all of my log ons.

I paid for Single parent's meet for three months and let me tell you.  It was a waste of money.  most of the people there didn't have kids, didn't want kids, or didn't want a black woman with kids.  If I were 25 and had no kids then maybe they'd consider me but not a thirty year old with kids.  Nope.  I did get a couple of letters from a few guys though.  The one that made me pay the site simply because I wanted to write him back was a scam I think.  It appeared five minutes after I signed up and he told me all about himself.  Way more than he could have possibly have written in five minutes>  Anyway, I paid, and wrote him back, waited for his reply which  came two days later and what he replied was the same exact letter he wrote in the first place.  It took me all of five minutes to realize that the site had a profile that wrote women various letters based on their likes and dislikes to lure them into paying so they can respond.  That guy aside I got a few hits from some guys but they were all across the country and way older than me.  I don't mind a guy older than me but when I was 30, I wasn't looking for a 55+ guy.  And there was one guy I really hit it off with.  I mean I actually would have liked to have met this guy but then in response to one of my letters, he sent me a reply to another woman and a steamy one at that.  When I called him on the wrong name, he tried to apologize but said "I'm sorry, I talk to so many women here that it's hard to keep you all straight."  Wrong! Sorry!  not me!!  I'm ghost.  Stopped paying for that one and let the account go.  It's been about five years on that one.

Christian Mingle is probably a nice site but apparently God wants about $35 a month billed in one easy lump sum of $100+ to show you the match he's picked out for you.  How about I propose a new deal?  I go to church and pay my tithes.  Pay partial attention to the sermon and pray really hard?  How about that?  Deal!

I'm not above online dating sites.  If they were cheaper or rather free, I would actually try to use one the way they are supposed to but then there's other concerns.

Is anyone really who they say they are online?  I don't think so.  I try to be honest but let's face it, even I embellish a little bit.  In body type they offer, Slim, Athletic, Average, Curvy, A little more to Love, and BBW (Big Beautiful Woman).  I'm not Average (Although if America keeps going the way they seem to be, I will be) but at the same time I wouldn't describe me as Curvy because to me that says I have big boobs, small waist and or a big booty.  I have hand sized boobs and a little more booty than average with a not to thin waist.  But oh the things I can do with that booty! Ahem.  A little more to love makes me think I'm outfight saying I'm large but not so large as to make you think, Damn!  I'm not that large.  So usually I alternate between Curvy and A little more to love.  I think I have used BBW once and the men that responded were DEFINITELY in the BHM (Big Handsome Male) category and I'm sorry that's not a turn on to me.  I reserve the right even in my deplorable singlehood to be a little choosy.

Every now and then I talk myself into finding one of the cheaper sites and paying for them but then the news has a conveniently placed story about cyber dating gone horribly wrong and I talk myself right out of it.  And I usually don't even try the free for months to come.  They scare me just that bad.

It's always a possibility I guess.  Not now and maybe not ever for me, but There are success stories out there that aren't made up by PR execs in a smokey office.

One day my doofus in Tin Foil will come and if I have to use an Online Site to find him, I just might have to screw up the courage to do so.

As always comments are appreciated...

Feel free to Write on my Google+ page your suggestions for P.

Till then!!