Thursday, May 28, 2009

Now Wait Just a Hot Darn Minute

I'd like to clear things up here. I run into people on the street everyday who look at me with disgust because I'm a step mom. I recognize this look, it's the same look I gave National Guard or Reserve members when I was in the Army. It is the "You only have the kids on the weekend, you're not their real mom, so why are you whining." That is all fine and dandy if you're into being a stuck up snob that doesn't want to get to know the real person. That's cool. But first let me bring you up to speed before you spew your judgemental crapola all over me. I will make a list for better understanding. Maybe after this I will make a sign to wear out and about.

1.) I have my kids full time, that's right, seven days a week 365 days a year. How did this happen? No, the mother did not die, in fact she is fully alive and kicking in Illinois, she just has no interest in raising her own kids.

2.) I AM mommy, please do not correct my children when they call me that. Their bio-mom ditched them over a year ago and I was left to clean up the pieces and mend the broken hearts.

3.) Just because I'm a step mom please don't look at me like I'm a home wreaking tramp, I did not break up their marriage, they did.

4.) Give the weekend warrior step mom's a break. My best friend is one and they have it just as hard, if not harder, with their step kids, because unlike my situation their step kids will probably never consider them a permanent addition and therefore never share their love as much as their step mom does.

5.) Just because I'm a step mom doesn't automatically mean I'm evil or secretly plot my step kids' demise. I love them no less than I would if I squeezed them out myself.

6.) Don't tell me I can't discipline them because they are not "my kids." Please refer to point number two and remember that they are.

7.) Please do not try and give me motherhood tips. I had a mother my self and gosh darn it if I didn't learn a thing or two from watching her growing up. Thank you for your concern but I know when my kid scraps his knee that I am in fact supposed to clean it before I put the band-aid on.

8.) Here's some other things I know: children's Tylenol is a fever reducer, boys will be boys, kisses don't always fix everything, one day they will tell me I'm not their mom (please stop reminding me...for real, I hate hearing that) baths should not be scalding hot, they need three square meals a day, a yes I do know how to do laundry I've been doing it since I was twelve.

9.) Stop thinking that since they are in fact my step kids that they don't cost as much money. Please see number two again and as for weekend step moms they still have to buy extra foods, bedroom furniture and clothes for them too.

10.) Just because you are a bio-mom please don't think that you know what I'm going through. You don't. You had nine months to get ready to be a mom I have about 4.5 seconds. You're kids will never tell you that you're not their mom, their loyalty will always lay with you and you will never have to deal with crying children because another mother doesn't try and be involved in their lives. You do not know what I am going through and your lucky on family johnny will never know what my kids have to go through.

Well that's all I have right now, I hope you have all learned something from this and that you will think next time you want to be judgemental to a step mother and put yourself in our shoes and maybe realize that it's not as easy and la de da as you think it is.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Back to the old worn out grind

I am currently on my last week of school, which is finals the week started great with our storage unit being broken into and the kids telling me all of mother's day that what I wanted to do was boring. The boys' dad, Dave, has started working night shifts, so for the summer I'm back to being a stay at home mommy. Yay? Now don't get me wrong I love my kids, but something in me tends to snap when I hear "Mom! CJ/Ethan hit me!" five hundred times a day because I'm the only one home/awake.

Today marks the first day for the next long three and a half months of summer vacation. I have already promised them that they will take swimming lessons, but the rec center doesn't send out a newsletter or post the information needed to enroll them on their website. I really actually don't even know where the pool is. I should probably figure that out.

Right now the boys are taking a nap and I have about thirty minutes of uninterrupted time to do laundry, dishes, sweep and mop, and maybe do a little reading before I hear screaming coming from upstairs because someone is pointing at the other one. Ahhh motherhood bliss. Maybe is would have made it easier if I had squeezed the kids out myself, but I doubt it, I think that just the way kids are. I should probably also get going on my to do list.

Friday, May 8, 2009

The Great Poop Disater of 2009

I woke up the other morning to my oldest (Ethan, 5) opening my door and informing me that CJ (the youngest, 2) had to go potty. First I love how kids have to refer to it as potty, because I guess saying bathroom or toilet would be too hard to understand. Anyway so I pull my tired ass out of bed, (Dad was at work and I had work till almost midnight the night before) I look at my clock and it says 7am. (shit, this is way to early for me)

I make my way into the bathroom through the second door and just as I open it I'm blasted in the face with a stench that could kill a rhino, I was stunned. As conscience thought came back into my head a few seconds later I looked around our bathroom. I first focused on CJ who told me he had to poop, then my eyes fell down to the diaper that was still wrapped around his ankles filled front to back with poop. Then I notice something horrible happening, he is in fact still pooping. I make a run to get him on the toilet by first and formost not spilling the contents of the diaper on the floor. This proves no easy task and by the time I actually get him on the toilet, he is finished.

I ask Ethan to run downstairs and get me a plastic bag to put the nasty diaper in, he comes back with huge garbage bag. After trying to explain to him that a plastic grocery bag will do just fine he returns triumphant. I ask him to hold it open and he gives me this horrified look, wads the bag up into a ball, throws it at me, and makes a run for it. This is the point where I finally calm down and start looking around.

The first place I looked was down where I was sitting. I had missed a huge pile of doo doo by just mere inches, then I realize it's EVERYWHERE. I'm not exagerating either, it was on every surface except the ceiling in the bathroom. It's on the counter, the toilet, the shower, the bathtub, the back of the toilet (?) the doors, cabinets, and of course...the floor. I started to cry. This was the first time I had to clean up this much poop and I wanted to vomit. I called their dad at work who offered me comforting laughter, needless to say it didn't make me feel any better. I cleaned the poop up, it took me about an hour but I got it all gone. After that I calmly explained to the boys that from now on if they need to poop, wait till daddy gets home.