I DARE You to Protest Me

I got a really interesting email from my local Girl Scout Council today.  Apparently, someone out there is trying to make a stink about how Girl Scouts supports abortion.
Right.
Totally.  We talk about it every day.  I personally try to sneak in as much about abortion into our curriculum as I possibly can.  I teach them how to plant a seed, and then deceptively tell them its ok to pluck the seed if it sprouts up when you don't want it.

No.  Wait.  We DON"T do that at all.  In fact, one of the things that I LOVE most about Girl Scouts is their policy of having no policy.  See, Girl Scouts keeps that idea that some conversations are better left to each family, and have no place in Scouting.  This topic being on of them.
That makes me happy as a parent, not just a scout leader.
Girl Scouts adheres to the basics, supporting your community, growing up to be a strong, self confident your lady, things like that.  Everything else is left up to each parent.

The email I received in a way, let us know that people might try to talk to us about these views at cookie booth sales.  The letter said that we didn't need to talk back, but we could if we wanted to, and it give us a direct link to the online post causing the stir, as well as the real information on the official policy.  Basically, it let us know that we may encounter protests.  At a cookie booth sale.
Seriously.
No.  Really.

So, here is what I have to say to all those who might want to protest.
1.  Leave my girls alone!!
You want to see me go momma bear, go after my cubs.  (I know we aren't Cub Scouts, but I thought that would be cute here.)  Every single one of the girls in my troop becomes mine the moment they join.  You will not harm them in any way, that includes scaring them.  Nope.
2.  If you do want to engage, you engage me.  Just me. I will respond.  I will be prepared.  I will let you know in no uncertain terms that you are not only ignorant of the truth, but totally absurd for believing that Scouts would actually teach something like that.
3.  Recognize that the entire purpose of Girl Scouts is to raise strong young women who will stand up for themselves and what they believe in.  The Biggest One is a prime example.  Since she is mine, I'll let you try this one out.  Go ahead and tell her that you think Scouts is teaching her to murder children.  Then, be prepared for the wrath that ensues.  In that moment, I'll give her a pass on respecting her elders.
4.  One other "little" belief you may have missed is that we support God and country.  I think you will find, at least in this area, that many of the families of my girls are rooted in the Christian faith.  So, you are totally barking up the wrong tree here.

Some people have lost sight of Jesus in the name of Christianity.  If you think for a moment that the right thing to do is to go after a group if Girl Scouts in regards to abortion, then you may as well go join the Westboro Baptist Church.  That is their mentality.  If you think for a moment that it is ok to scare small children, then you are the one who deserves judgement, not a parent who is working to help her child go to camp.
What you need to do is sit in on a Scout meeting.  See what we really do and who we really are.  My girls are awesome.  The other ladies I work with are awesome.  My goal at every single meeting and in between is to do anything I can to support them in reaching their full potential.  I want them to learn.  I want them to grow.  I want to see the amazing people that they will become.

I hope they are all life long scouts and are always just as proud of the organization as I am.

I Need to Get Back

So, I abandoned my blog for a while.  I'm not sure why, but I'm unabandoning it with a very honest post.
I think of this blog in many ways as my outlet, when I just need to anonymously vent about all things related in any way to parenting, or even my life.

We have hit a new chapter in parenting, and frankly, I need to share out of nothing but sheer frustration.

The biggest one is 10.  I had no idea that 10-12 was so freaking difficult.  It is.  If you have girls, when you get to this age, if you don't drink, you will, and if you do drink, have someone start watching you to make sure you don't get out of hand.  The stage is that hard.

This weekend, we had a big troop sleepover.  I'm not sure what started it, but something, somewhere set off a chain reaction with the big one that set off an atomic bomb of attitude, with a mushroom cloud of nasty behaviour that could be seen for miles.  It was off the charts.  I haven't seen her this bad since the last time her dad deployed and it got super ridic.
I'm seriously at a loss.
I managed to make it through the night.  All the parents in my home saw her behaviour.  I apologized.  I vented a little.  They empathized, but mostly, I was embarrassed and frustrated.  There was nothing I could do in the moment with 20 girls in my home who needed to have a good time, and 1 who was determined not to.
So, the dealing with it came the next day.
Yesterday, for the first time ever, I made The Biggest One scrub the toilets.  Seriously. I vowed a while back that this was the next direction her punishments would be going, and I stuck to it.  Taking things away seemed to be doing nothing.  Her arm has been broken (a story I need to blog about to catch you up anyway) for a while and she already lost out on her archery lessons until that is healed.  So, I really needed a new effective deterrent that I could go with.
Now, let me say that it was totally supervised, and frankly, I don't think there is anything harmful about cleaning a bathroom, at all, but at the age of 10, it sucks big time.  She hated every single second of it with a passion.  When we were all done, I ask her if she ever wanted to do that again.  It was a resounding no.  Then I told her to consider it every time she opened her mouth to be rude, every time she wanted to stomp out of a room, and so one.  From now on, the response would be to clean a toilet.  If you have crappy behaviour, you get a crappy punishment (see what I did there).  I feel it fitting.
Now, one of two things will happen, it will help some and she will think before she acts, or we will have the cleanest toilets in the world.  Either way, I win.
In all honesty, though, I'd much rather clean the toilets my self and have a daughter with improved behaviour.  Really.  In fact, I'll even take that for Christmas.

Update to No Social Media For You

I wanted to throw this out there.  When I say young children  I suppose I really mean children in general, unless parents are sure they are responsible, and are prepared to be a part of their online access.

This is exactly why I think kids shouldn't have that much online access:

Story about a fight caught on camera and posted online.

This fight was posted all over the internet, and now this child won't come home.  How terrible. I don't care who started it, who finished it, etc.  What I care about is the fact that other kids used social media to magnify this girl's pain to the point that she has run away.  

The parent of every child who had a phone, videoed this, put it on Facebook, or was involved without doing something should take a serious stand with their kids.  You don't kick someone when they are down.  

I hope they find this girl, and she is ok.

I Know You Don't Care, But...

I know weight loss blogs are generally about as interesting as watching wall paper peal.  So, sometime ago when I wanted to blog about my weight loss journey, I created a separate blog all about it.  That, though, fell by the wayside.  I have a hard enough time blogging on this one, let alone one that was really just for me.
So, if you will, please, humor me for a moment while go off about my weight loss struggle.  it won't all be a food journal, I swear.
For those who don't know me personally, let me tell you that am obese.  In fact, I was morbidly obese.  I'm talking the biggest person on the Biggest Loser ranch big.  I started working on it, slowly, though.  Over the course of quite a while, I lost about 130 lbs.  Yes.  I'm serious.  I suppose I'm really putting myself out here now, but oh well.  I worked very hard to lose that weight.  I did it all with diet and exercise.  I even gave up coffee because I can only drink coffee by adding calories into it.  I exercised at least 6 times a week.  Started a couch to 5k program and was trying to learn to run.  On the days I didn't go try to run, I worked out at home with DVDs.  Anything I could do to add extra movement in, I did.  I even mowed yards voluntarily, just to exercise more.
Then, I got pregnant.  It was really not expected.  I was losing weight.  Getting my body to finally start to look like a normal person should.  We never got pregnant easily, either.  It took forever to conceive both of the other two.  So, when, after my husband come home off a boat, I suddenly found my self pregnant, I was shocked.  I was also scared because of all my body had been though.  while I survived the pregnancy, I also gained weight.  I gained 40 pounds back.  It really hurt to see that coming back on.  A lot.  I worked so hard to lose it all.
Anyway, now, I'm trying to lose it back again.  I want to start moving back down the scale to not only get back to where i was, but to continue on that journey and do even better.
The problem is I'm stuck.  I can't.  It took all the motivation I had last time to really get rolling an d serious, something I'm not sure I can duplicate.  I got about 10 pounds in, and pretty much quit on myself.  Again.  I will tell you, though, I know what the problem is.  Depression.  I'm eating my feelings away.  Life is so freaking emotionally difficult right now, nearing the end of a long deployment after him being in and out for the last year, dealing with being a physically single mother of three with no help, trying to plan our life after he retires very soon, all that is just too much.  I can't help it.  I don't have the will power to not eat Oreos.  Heck, I'm pretty lucky I haven't gained even more while he was gone.  It is also a million times harder to exercise right now.  Having an infant who isn't on a set schedule, and is super clingy, makes it really hard.  If I could get The Big Little One to agree to be in a double stroller, I could at least walk, but that isn't going to happen.  She refuses.  In all honestly, she is nearly five, and hasn't been in one since she was about three.  So, I can't blame her.  All that together means that there is practically no way to get in a good workout.  Not working out, and not eating right don't make for good weight loss.
I've got to turn this around.  I have got to get over myself, an everything going on, and focus on what I can control.  It's hard, though.  I suppose if it were easy I would have been thin years ago, and there would be be no weight loss industry.  Maybe I should stop feeling so bad that its hard, since the hard way means thousands of jobs.  I'm totally trying to find a bright side, here.
The reality of this all is I know what to do.  I've done it before.
I need to get off my butt, literally, and start moving.
I need to stop stress eating, and start finding a way to channel that into working out.
I can do this again.
I will do this again.
I will rebuild my self...better than before.

I Have a Beef With Cookies

If you read my last post, then you know where this is headed.  Cookie season in Girl Scouts has got to be one of the most stressful things ever.
Cookies haven't even started yet, and already this has been a bumpy roller coaster ride.  From one low, into a loop de loop, straight to a huge, stomach tossing dip.   I found a parent to go.  I am so incredibly thankful for her.  After all the scrambelling and worrying I did over the last 24 hours, trying desperately to find someone to go in my place to the Cookie Lottery, I moved from stressed out to pissed off. I offered childcare to everyone in the troop, but she managed to get it worked out on her own at the last second.  She was going a little late, but she would go.  She is also the newest parent to all of this that I have.  She doesn't have any training in cookies, and has never been part of the process before, but she was able to go.  She did the best she could, and that is all I could ask of her.  What raises my ire is that when she got there, there were children at the event.  I was told specifically that there were to be no children, and we struggled with it, yet people were allowed to come in.  I had to send the only person i could, and our girls were seriously disadvantage by having someone with no experience go, in order to follow the rule.

The women there weren't even all that nice to the parent i sent.  In a fantastic display 0of immaturity, other women were taking up seats with their purses, just so no one could sit beside them and leaving no open seats in the hall for my parent.  The process has become so competitive that people forget we are all supposed to be "a sister to every Girl Scout".  That is something we have our girls say at every meeting. I know that in our troop in particular, we are very focused on that.  I want the girls to learn to be good sports, and compete to the best of their ability, but without a malicious undertone.  It can be done.  We try to focus on how cookies help every girl, and not just our troop.  We want them to see the greater good of the whole process.
The whole process, all of cookies sales, is what I dislike most about Girl Scouts.  So many times, I wish we could skip it, but there are valuable lessons to be learned if we choose to focus on them.  I am going to do my best to do just that.  In fact, I suppose I should make this a learning opportunity for myself.  I really need to learn to ignore all the bad behaviour that I see from other adults, not let it get to me so much, and focus on making this great for my girls.  For those who have lost sight of what cookies should be, well, Bless their Hearts, I hope they do great and get out of it whatever they want, too.

Some Times You have To Give Back

I think I spent 20 minutes today, trying the hardest I have ever tried just to keep a straight face.  It was work, but playing dumb for those few minutes, gave me enough joy to makeup for the crappy day, and really weekend, we have had around here.
The Littlest One sleeps in a mini play pen or play yard in my room right now.  It has a small bassinet in the top.  The weight limit actually says to remove the bassinet when they are over 15lbs, and when I weighed her last week, she had just it 15, but the thing had started to tilt a little too much for my liking, and I decided to make the big change today.  While The Two Bigger Girls were down stairs playing, aka fighting, I went upstairs with The Littlest One to vacuum and tidy up a bit.  That was when I removed the bassinet.  I never said a word about it.  I just removed it, put it in the storage bag for the bassinet, and put the bag away.  It was like nothing was different, on first glance.  I put the baby in her newly revised bed to check it out, and she seemed pretty happy hanging there with her favorite giraffe.  So, I went off to finish my work.
A bit later, The Big One comes up.  I was starting to vacuum the stairs.  She goes into my room, and I note the absence of sound from her for just a minute.  I can clearly picture it taking a second for the fact that her sister was now two feet lower to the ground than normal to sink in.  Then, I hear my name yelped, but I pretend not to.
She comes over to me rather quickly and starts to tell me something about the baby.  I know where this is going, and I instantly decide to take it somewhere a little more fun for me.

"Mom, The Baby is in the bottom of her bed!"

She is supposed to be in her bed.  That is where I put her.

"No, Mom, she is all the way down in her bed!"

You mean she is laying down?  Good!  I'm glad she is resting some.

"Mom!!!  You put her crib down!"

I didn't do anything to her crib.

""Arg!   Didn't you tell me that you can adjust her crib."

Yes.  You can adjust the crib to make it lower.

"See!  You moved it."

No.  I just told you.  I didn't do anything to her crib.

The conversation went on for quite a while.  I tried my best to model it after something like "Who's On First".  Once she got that I was being sly with the difference between the crib and the play pen, she finally started to pen me down.  I couldn't hold it too much longer, anyway. She really should have known, from the moment I didn't rush to check on The Littlest One, that I was knowingly messing with her, but this is my lovable, and slightly dingy child, who never thought about the fact that I should have been concerned, if I didn't know what she was talking about.  Once I smiled, and possible snickered just a little, she knew I was messing with her, and she was done.  She just turned and walked away.  Then I laughed out loud, the good kind that you don't get to do often.
I tell you, it was a good time, maybe not for all, but certainly for me.  It also made up for the cup of spilled orange juice, and the cup of spilled milk.  See, in this house, we don't cry over spilled milk, we just get even.

Day Two And Not Shortage of Jerks

I've complained about parking a time or two before.
I would like to reiterate, that if the city wants to solve their money woes, I can offer a much better place to go looking for parking offenders than bothering people who are deployed about moving their cars every 72 hours.
Please, please, I am seriously begging, please send someone to the local schools to enforce and ticket there.
I swear to you there is money to be made.  Today alone, they could have easily written nearly 10 tickets at The Biggest One's school alone.
I get really upset when I see people doing things they shouldn't, blocking drive ways, pulling into them to make u turns (totally illegal in front of a school), and blocking in other cars parked there.
It is disrespectful to the people who live in that neighborhood.  Acting like a parking jerk teaches your children that you don't have to respect other people because they learn from example.  On top of that, when so many people have a lack of respect for basic parking etiquette, it reflects poorly on every parent there.  The neighbors around the school must surely think we are all jerks, and that makes me even more upset.  I get there early, or accept the consequence of parking far away since my very large truck takes a lot of room on the limited curb available.  I would never try to squeeze into a place too small for me, and end up blocking a driveway.  So, having the bad seeds make us all look like a bunch of jerks, makes me even madder.
I saw these business cards the other day, I think I need to order some.  If the city won't ticket people, maybe I need to start taking matters into my own hand.  Granted, I would never actually key a car, but I do agree with the sentiment.
So, people who park near schools, quit being a$$holes.  Just stop.  Now.  No one else anywhere appreciates it.  If you happen to find one of these, or something similar on your car, yes, yes I may have done it.  Go ahead and ask me.  I dare you, because the answer you get won't be a simple yes or no.  There will be a lecture involved for you whether I did it or not.

Justice for Children

Like every other basically good person in this nation who has seen or heard anything about the Casey Anthony trial, I am deeply disturbed that she got off on the murder charges.  I can't say that I think being found not guilty on the murder charges was the wrong verdict as far as the jury goes.  I believe the jurors when they say there wasn't enough evidence, and that isn't their fault.  I do think they could have found her guilty on child neglect for not even reporting her child missing for 30 days, but at least they found her guilty of something considering how little there really was to go on.  The fact that the jury acted properly, though, doesn't in any way negate the fact that I feel Caylee was robbed of justice.


Justice means many things, but one of the definitions is the quality of being just; righteousness, equitableness, or moral rightness.  Equitableness.  There should be equality in the outcome of this case.  Caylee lost her life, and somehow, Casey should be forced to do the same for it to be equitable, be that the death penalty or life in prison.  That would be justice.  
People are truly outraged that a mother would do this to her own child and get away with it.  So, I have to wonder, will someone, somewhere, try to bring justice for Caylee?  


I was just watching the news, and one of the many people outside the courtroom, holding signs and showing their anger at the verdicts, said that any one of the people there that day would be glad to kill Casey.  I'm sure he meant it.  I'm sure there are a lot of people right now that should the position open up, would gladly volunteer to be the one throwing the switch if Caylee had gotten the death penalty.  In fact, I would say that when it comes down to anyone convicted of murdering a child, there would be no shortage of people who would gladly volunteer to fulfill the duties of an executioner on a murder's judgement day.  


Crimes against children are the worst.  They can't fight for themselves.  We are supposed to protect and nurture our children.  We are supposed to love and care for them.  When life gets hard, or we realize that parenting isn't what we thought it would be, murder or in any way harming the child is not an option.  There are other options.  


A mother I know is going through a lot right now because her husband couldn't take their babies constant screaming and while she was at work open day, he shook the baby.  That is not an option.  There are other ways.  
You put the child down.  You walk away.  You call someone, anyone.  No matter what it is, you find another way.  No child deserves to be harmed.  No child deserves to have their life taken away because you, the parent or caregiver, couldn't handle it.  I can guarantee you that in Caylee's case someone would have taken that baby and loved her, even if her mother didn't.  Instead, a life full of potential was taken.  That should never happen.  


I hope there is justice somehow, someway, not just for this child, but for every child out there who deserves it.  

You Use Honey, Not Vinegar, Moron

Today is one of those days where no one needs to piss me off.  I'm tired.  Scratch that.  I'm exhausted.  The Littlest One wanted to nurse for over an hour just off and on.  She couldnt' sleep and was super cranky.  That means I couldnt' sleep and am super cranky.  Then, because out of desperation for some sleep, I nursed her laying down, she is all gassy today.  (I have found that I have to nurse her in an upright seated position or she gulps down too much air and has a bad belly.) So, on top of tired and cranky, I feel bad because she is all gassy now.  And of course, her being all gassy means she is having a bad, hold me, kind of day.  It's just not working.
So, as the day is, she is crying and I take her to my room and try to lay down with her.  Then I decide that maybe I should try to comfort nurse her to sleep.
As she is nursing, and I get a moment with no crying, the phone rings to break the peace.  The caller ID comes up as Anonymous.  Now, normally, I wouldn't answer that.  Actually, normally I have an anonymous call blocker on my phone.  However, we learned that now when my husband calls from the ship, where is presently is, the ID shows up that way.  So, I unlatch her, put her down, and grab the phone.  Of course, it is someone wanting money.  It was a cancer charity and he told me they were making gift baskets for children with leukemia.  I was waiting for him to take a breathe so I could tell him I needed to go, but apparently he knew better and just kept talking.  So, I interrupt him, and tell him I can't talk.  At that time, I have the phone on one ear, and I pull The Littlest One back up to my other should, with her now crying again.  I hadn't even put the phone down yet, because I was tyring to get her first.  Then in my ear, I hear "Oh yeah.  Go ahead and put the baby right up to the phone so that is all I an hear" all nasty.  AS I was about to respond, he hung up.
Now, let me assure you that I was not putting the baby up to the phone.  She was legitimately crying and I was picking her up.  It was no ploy to get out of talking.  I wouldn't have gievn them any money today even if she had been calm.  The only thing he managed to do, is ensure that I get all pissed off, and try to write a letter to his charity to tell them why I will never given them money.  You see, this is not the way to act when you are asking for something, even if I had done it on purpose.
So, to the guy who raised my ire on a day where it needn't be raised, my 5 week old daughter was crying, and I thought you were my deployed husband calling.  I'm sorry this all added up to pissing you off because you had to hear a moment of it.  I live it.  Get over yourself.  If you don't like your job because people do crappy stuff to you all the time, then quit.  I worked in a call center for years, and believe me, I do know what people do.  If you want to complain about them, at least have the courtesy to hang up first, and then turn to say your smart ass remarks to the person in the cubicle next to you.  You have succeeded in making my day a little worse.  I hope you happen to call again one day, because I do remember your name.  Oh, and I totally take back that, "have a nice day" I said after I told you I couldn't talk.

We Let It All Fly

I've tried to explain this to people before, but once you become a mom, everything changes.  Your personal habits get put under a microscope, as children watch and retain everything.  You learn very quickly that you model the behaviour you want them to have, because what ever behaviours you have, they will model.  So, when it comes to foul language, you just cut it out, or mostly out if you happen to have some serious road rage.  Regardless, you do your best to only use the kind of language that you would like them to have.  This is why, on any given night, if you were to pop in to a "Moms Night Out" somewhere, you might here the kind of language coming out of the mouths of those mothers that would make a sailor blush.  Well, not really.  As someone married to a sailor, I can say that it wouldn't actually make them blush, but they would be quite proud of you.
The point is that when we get together, sans little ears, we let go just a little.  Sometimes, we let go a lot.  As a mother, you have to repress a lot of urges.  You can't yell "d*mn it" because your child walked in behind you as you were getting their chicken nuggets out of the oven, spooked you so that you jumped, and you burned your hand.  You really can yell "Holy sh*t!" when you find sh*t left all over the bathroom by a toddler who has supposedly learned to wipe themselves when they go number two.  And most importantly, you can not yell "What the f**k?" when you walk into the play room, where your child has been "playing nicely" for the last 30 minutes as you do laundry, only to find massive piles of muddy dirt and sand, carried in one bucket at a time, in the middle of the floor, because Barbie wanted her beach house to really be on the beach.
You can't do any of these, and so many more.
So, when it is our time, we not only get to retell all of these fantastic stories, but you get to tell them in a very colorful, inappropriate language filled way.  In fact, you get to tell a lot of stories about things that you wouldn't normally talk about.  We talk about what our boobs look like, now and before children.  Moms talk about their birth stories, including how their vaginas fared. I mean, really, there is very little that I would say, in the context of being a mother, that is considered off limits.
That means, if you happen to be the college kids in the coffee shop on the same night as the moms meet for a Moms Night Out, you had better hope you brought your head phones for your iPod or laptop, because no matter how many dirty looks you give us, we aren't going to shut up, and no matter how hard you try, you will never get some of those descriptions out of your head.  Give us a break, though, we have had to wait weeks to be able to say all those pent up curse words you hear spewing out, and frankly, if your vagina had gone through what ours may have, you would want to lament about it to someone who can sympathize, too.  After all, miserable vaginas love company.  One of these days, when you are either a mother who needs to get out of the house, or a spouse who needs to get their other half out, you will totally understand, and hope they have a fantastic support group, with home your wife can curse up a storm with, as well.

The Offensive Penis

I'm not totally sure, but I think I offended someone today by saying the word penis.
That's it.  I just said it.  I didn't have a picture of one to wave around, or talk about my personal feeling in relation to a penis.  No.  It was actually quite simple.  I mentioned the picture of Katie Holmes giving Suri a penis gummy.

(image from TMZ)

It didn't seem like a big deal to me, the word penis, not giving your child penis gummy things, which I do kind of find a bit alarming.  

I was at a potluck party today with my moms group.  One of the women mention Suri and Katie.  After she was done, I brought up the photo.  I Actually said the words "gummy penis".  The woman standing beside me left not a minute into the conversation that ensued.  She immediately went to sit by someone else, and it seemed pretty obvious to me.  Every other woman right around me and I were really into the discussion.  We all found it rather dense to do something like that if you don't want the public to see when you know every minute of your life in photographed.  Then again, we all felt it rather dense to give that box to your child to begin with. 

Now, I don't think what she found offensive was that we were being judgemental of a celebrity.  People do that all the time.  That's part of why we love celebrities.  We love having the ability to tear them up, too.  We certainly weren't bagging on the child, just the mom.  

So, it had to be the word penis being thrown around.  It had to make her uncomfortable.  I'm not sure why, but it did.  Perhaps she is just very modest.

The conversation evolved into what we can't do any more, stores we can't visit because our children are with us, and eventually into dealing with little boys and their own penis issues.   To me, this is what a great moms  group is for.  You need to have other adults that you can have adult talk with.  I certainly can't show that photo to my children, and definitely can't discuss why it isn't right with them.  I need other moms who are grown folk, and like to talk about grown folk things.  We all do. 

I have to tell you, I don't think my actions should have been offensive.  I don't feel like they were inappropriate on their face.  There were no children around to repeat what we were saying.  We were discussing a parenting choice.  I really don't think the word penis should be offensive by itself, either.  I mean, we all have kids, and the vast majority of us have gotten pretty up close and personal with one to get them.  So, let's all be grown ups.  If we are talking about anatomy, then you don't get to be upset.  Its just a body part.  Deal with it.  Penis.  Penis. Penis. Penis.  And just to make sure I'm not sexist in my grown up body part talk....vagina.  

The TP Fairy

There are certain mythical, magical creatures that people in my home believe in.  Of course, we have Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny.  The tooth fairy is in there, too.
There is, though, one fairy, that I am the only one in the whole house who knows the truth about.  Everyone else seems to believe that there is a magical toilet paper fairy who comes in after you are done, and quietly replaces the empty roll you left with a nice new one.  I'm not quite sure how the TP Fairy works, how it knows to come in at just the right moment, which bathrooms need paper, or even how it gets into the house, but it must work.  They all, after all, seem to believe in it.
I know the truth, though, because I am the TP Fairy.

Apparently, no one else in the house seems to understand that it is an actual, mere mortal job to physically pop the little empty holder roll off, place a new roll on, and put it back in place.  It must take magic to make that happen.  I can assure you that it doesn't.  I just do it quietly, and frequently, in the bathrooms that I never even use.  In fact, I am a creature of habit.  I almost always use my bathroom, upstairs.  I don't even like the downstairs bathroom.  It's always cold in there, and frigid toilet seats are not pleasant.  Some how, though, the TP Fairy is still supposed to be away of the levels of tp in that bathroom and the hall bath used only by The Girls.  To be perfectly honest, if I am slipping on my game, I'm pretty sure they don't even tell me right away when they run out, unless it is a number two situation, which I happen to think is totally gross, and one of the reasons that I am always replacing their rolls.  Also, they are still children, although The Big One is absolutely capable of taking care of this, if she would.

However, my bathroom, and my husband, are a totally different situation.  I've tried to gently break him of the notion that there is no TP Fairy.  When I see the roll running low, I go ahead and sit the new roll out on the counter, as a gentle reminder that it can be changed and everything you need, like your hands and the new roll, are available for him.  Yet it still doesn't happen.
I think he believes there is a TP Fairy loop hole, kind of like a way to worm your way off the naughty list.  I'm pretty sure he thinks that if he leaves one square, the one that has the glue on it, on the roll, it isn't totally empty and he doesn't have to change it.  Loop hole found.  Not something he has to do.  If I want it on the roll, I have to do it.  Otherwise, the new roll I put out would actually sit on the counter or back of the toilet and be used.  Believe me, I know.

I really want to go on a TP Fairy strike sometimes, and just quit replacing everything.  The problem is, though, that I would never again have it on the roll anywhere.  I think it might be a bit rude to have guests in my home look at an empty roll every time they came over, too.  So, simply not doing the task anymore, just won't give me the desired outcome.

I really think it is time to have "the talk" with everyone and let them know the truth about the TP Fairy.  It is time for her job to be done, and for them to start being a part of that task in this household.  I think they are all, the husband especially, ready.  I know I am.
Next, I'm gunning for the Laundry and Dish Washing Fairies.

I have a Plan to Fix The Deficit

I have what I believe to be a full proof plan to fix all the money woes we have in the great city of San Diego.
This is a very valid plan.  Ok.  Part of it is.

If the city would just deputize me to be both a fashion police officer and a parking enforcement officer, I could wipe out the debt in no time.

I wouldn't be any kind of fashion style police officer.  No.  I want to be a fashion etiquette officer.  If I find you wearing inappropriate clothing, you get a ticket.  While I get the whole freedom of speech thing, I would specifically target those who come to schools or other places that are primarily for children dressed inappropriately.  Yesterday alone, I could have racked up a bundle.  The process would be simple.  You see someone wearing a torn jean mini skirt where the pockets hanging out of the bottom are inches longer than the whats left of the hem line, they get a ticket.  When there is also a rip that goes up to where their hip in the front, only covered by the hanging out pocket, the fine increases.  When wearing that with a mini, stretchy tube top, the fine doubles.  Then, on top of all of that, when you stand there and complain about being cold, I add a nuisance fine.  That one person could have netted at least at good $500 to $1000 to go to the cty.  In fact, I think that when you wear that and are fined on school grounds, the money should go straight to the school system.  With some of the moms I see at schools, we could have every classroom in the city outfitted with the latest technology possible by next year, no problem.  Simply deputize one person per school, per school year, to do this as a volunteer position.  I'm absolutely positive the money brought in would out weigh the costs of training and the little ticket pads they would need to give us.

While that is wishful, and catty, thinking, the next part is actually very realistic, and I am thinking of how to propose this to the city.  Much like the Retired Senior Volunteer Patrol (RSVP) that drives around and checks on handicap spots, if they would seriously give the power to one person at a school to write tickets for parking violations, we could make mad bank.  Every day, it drives me nuts to see the people who really have no respect for others, and violate every parking rule possible when they pick up their children.  Apparently, each on of them seems to be more important than anyone else there.  You don't park in a red zone.  You don't park where you are blocking a drive way. You really, really don't park over a mini red zone, while blocking a drive way.  I'm barely able to walk some days, but if I don't get there early enough to get close to the school, I park on the next block and walk.  I doubt anyone has a valid reason for the bad parking.  Its just called lazy.  So, if people want to be that lazy, then they can pay for their crime, literally.  I would be glad to do it all for free.  Again, I am positive that the money brought in from all the parking tickets would far outweigh the costs of training and the little ticket pads.  Frankly, it would also be beneficial to the rest of us who do follow parking regulations.  Once you eliminate the people double parked, honking their horns at a child who doesn't even notice they are sitting there and blocking traffic, you are going to speed up traffic flow for everyone else.  I think it is a total win/win situation.  Unless, of course, you are the scofflaw who parks poorly, but then, you would deserve it.

If only someone high up would consider my proposals.  The second one at least.  I think we could make a dent in the city's financial woes one single volunteer with a pad of paper and pen at a time.

I May Have Been Wrong

I recently wrote about my new neighbors.

I may have gotten something wrong.  I can't say for sure, but its definitely under review.

In that blog post, I wrote that there was no "puff, puff, give" going on with them.  Well, apparently, there is with someone, just not in the garage.  Its in the backyard.

After school on Friday, I gave the girls a Popsicle, and told them they could eat it outside.  Score for me.  They go chill out side and don't make a mess in here.  I opened the blinds and a window so that I could see and hear them.   A few minutes later I decided to join them.  I walk out, and it nearly knocked me over.

Now, I am no pot aficionado, but having gone to a few concerts back in the day, I'm pretty sure I know it when I smell it.  I think that was it.  Our garages are not attached, and you have to walk through the yard to get to them.  I walked past The Girls, into the garage, and started sniffing.   I couldn't smell it at all.  That meant someone was actually sitting in their backyard, enjoying a little chronic, and hoping no one would notice.  I was shocked.  I mean, had I had the presence of thought in the moment, I would have run,or at least waddled quickly, upstairs to either of the girls' bedrooms to look out the windows.  I could probably have seen who it was, if they were still hanging out there.
Instead, in a very passive aggressive manor, I just started talking out loud about how rude it was, and more importantly, how strong the order was.  I mean, they must be total idiots to think no one would either notice or care.  I did both!

I'm pissed.  I don't appreciate pot smoking right next to my children's toys.  I really don't appreciate the potential contact high.  We don't smoke pot, and I don't plan on starting now.  I absolutely don't want to smell it, or have my girls smell it.  I really take offense the the fact that they would break the law right there under my nose.  Not only that, but I already eat enough in this pregnancy, being on a "See food" diet and all.  I don't need anyone making that any worse.  I get a little worked up about somethings, if you can't tell.  Probably the reason that all Bob Marley music makes me really mad, but that is for another post.

So, here we are, in a new house, with new neighbors, but what's old is new again.  Just like the first set of neighbors we had when we moved here, someone is smoking up right next to us.  I'm not sure how I get so lucky all the time.  Maybe I just notice it more than most people since it makes me crazy.  I'm not really totally sure which neighbors did it either, and I hope I never find out.  If you are going to break the law, just keep it to your selves, please, people.  I don't need to be a part of that.

Version 2.0 - Meaner than Ever Before

I'm not really sure what happened.  The Little One has always been a little feisty.  However, in the last few days, I swear she has been replaced by a new, much meaner version of herself.
Actually, I kind of know what happened.  Her dad left for a little deployment.  This one won't be big, but she doesn't quite get that at this point.  She is very much a daddy's girl.  In fact, we often just call her DG.  She loves him so much.  It's really cute and all, until he up an leaves and I'm left with the after math.  This kid is seriously a handful right now.  She is constantly picking on someone, be it me or her big sister.  I even ask her if she was taking up the meanness slack since her father was gone, and she said yes.  Straight up.  She know she is being mean.  I'm also not sure who is more frustrated right now; Ava because her dad is gone, or Lilly or me for dealing with her.

It isn't just mean, either.  She is being completely disobedient and defiant, in almost every way she can.  When she woke up this morning, in my bed because she wouldn't sleep in hers, I snuggled her, and kind of jokingly ask her if she was going to listen better today.  Anytime I ask her things like that, she usually sucks up, gets snugly back, and says she will do better.  Not right now, though.  She refused to look at me or answer me. She turned her head, got a mad look, and ignored me. She has a will of iron, too.  I could not get her to talk to me, no matter how much I tried.  It took me five minutes to get her to acknowledge me, and say she would be better.  By that time, it had gone beyond playing to something kind of serious.

This child is wearing me out.  We go to pick The Big One up from school, and if I could pick her up right now, I would be hip carrying her everywhere and not to snuggle and be sweet, either.  She won't stay with me when we walk and runs across drive ways where parents in a rush turn in without looking.  She runs all over the school, which isn't cool.  She nearly knocks over adults and other kids.  When we are standing at the gate waiting to be let in, she runs toward the street and stops just at the edge of the side walk.  I swear she is trying to give me a coronary.

Her poor Big Sister is taking a beating, too.  The Little One in constantly picking on her.  In fact, I have even said several times "Quit picking on your Big Sister" which just sounds wrong.

I do understand the "Acting out" if you will, but that doesn't mean I like it.  I don't.  No one would.  I also know that she is young, and having a hard time figuring it out, and how to deal with all the emotion build up she has inside.  We just need to get through it all so that she can go back to her normal, much nicer but still full of it self.  Right now, I won't let her get away with everything, but I will try to be understanding with her.  I will snuggle her at night, and let her sleep with me for the moment.  I'll be sure to read to her lots, and try to get her out of the house to play more and do fun things.  I will also be hiring a babysitter as much as I can to save my own sanity as we go through this.
It will get better.  She will adjust.  Everything is just a phase and all that.  Regardless, if you notice a run on dark chocolate the next time you go to the commissary, believe it was me who took it all, just to be prepared for now.

New Neighbor Woes

Having moved recently, I have decided that I have a love hate relationship with our new location.  I love our new house.  It is just so much better than the old one.  I really do.  It just suits us better.

There is a down side.  I can't handle our new neighbors.  While they don't have any "puff, puff, give" going on in the garage, that I know of, like some of our previous neighbors did, after just a couple of weeks of living here, we already have issues.

For starters, I can't handle her parking.  I know that may not make a lot of sense, but we park on of our cars on the street in front of the house, and so do they.  Well, she tries to, but she sucks at it.  She sucks worse than I do at parallel parking, and that says a lot.  It really wouldn't matter how bad she is, if it wasn't for the fact that she always takes up two spaces when she can.  She sees it as one easy spot for her, instead of the two spots it should be.  It drive me up the frigging wall.  That little bit of space out there is a precious commodity.  You try to preserve and respect it as much as possible for all the people on the street.  Its just the polite thing to do.  She, apparently, never got that memo or doesn't give a rat's hiney.  Also, when I can't quite get into a space or need help, I ask My Husband, who is seriously the best parallel parker in the whole wide world, to come out and spot me.  I have even ask him to help coach me and let me practice so that I can get better.  After all, he is the parking king.  Her husband doesn't so much help her as stand on the porch and yell "Your not doing that right!" when she can't even hear him.  It's fantastic.  I would dare say our entire street hold this grievance against them, even though they don't live next to them.

My biggest problem with them at the moment, though is that they are probably the loudest people I have ever heard in my life.  We live in a town home, and are attached to them by one wall; one miserable, stupid wall.  I can not fathom how they make as much noise as they do.  Seriously.  They could start up a drum circle over there and I think it would only serve to muddle the yelling, and not actually increase their volume level at all.

They have at least three kids, a baby, a toddler, and a tween.  I know the baby cries.  That I can forgive, easily.  The toddler, though, I'm thinking is allowed to run amok at all hours. I think I've figured out that her bedroom must be adjacent to ours, and most likely, her bed is up against the wall that joins our homes, and our bedrooms more specifically.  I also think she either jumps and falls in her bed and onto the wall all night, or actually lays there and kicks the crap out of the wall.  It seriously sounds like kicking.

When we are downstairs, the adjoining wall is up against their staircase.  All day long you hear what sounds like an elephant heard running up and down.  The other night, I actually fantasized about cutting a hole in the wall, right where their stair case is, and reaching through to grab the next person running on the stairs.  A few things kept from actually doing it, like possible criminal charges and being kicked out of my own home.  The biggest thing that made just a drew was trying to figure out how to make sure I got them going up, and not down.  After all, it wouldn't be to hurt them, just to scare them a little and make them stop.

I just can't take it.

My Husband has already gone over there at about 10:00pm one night.  They answered and he told them rather bluntly that it sounded like someone was kicking our wall.  The man of that house didn't seem shocked, surprised, or even upset.  He just said ok, and went back in, but the noise did stop!  That tells me it is some sort of behavioural issue they are completely overlooking normally.  I mean, if in one minute you can make it stop, and we would have heard if there had been yelling at the child, or anything else, then you could make it stop all the time if you chose too.  Not cool.

I don't let my kids behave like that.  In fact, if we are in any area of the home that I know they can probably hear us in, because we can hear them, I make my girls keep their voices down at night or in the early morning.  I try to make them understand that we should show respect for our neighbors and those around us.  Its becoming a problem for me, though, because I don't really want to make them be nice anymore.  I want to teach my girls the right thing, but some days when we get up at the crack of dawn and our neighbors are still sleeping, I seriously would like to send them into the bathroom and tell them the first one to finish got an ice cream, and just let the screaming fights ensue.  IT would be nice.  I'm not like that, though.  I'll continue to teach the girls to behave, and not let mine run amok just to spite the neighbors.  I may, however, get a very loud new sound system and hope they enjoy Nirvana.  At 6:00am.

I hope that things get a little better now that he has gone over there once, because I'm not sure how things will be if I have to go over there.  I don't want to, but I will if I need to.  I don't imagine it will be pretty, either.  I already have an internal filter on the fritz.  I'm pregnant.  I'm tired.  I'm super grouchy.  I'm also a natural red head.  All in all, I would say that makes me a ticking time bomb.

Somehow, be it force or not, we will figure this all out.  Maybe I'll get lucky and they will get orders elsewhere, soon.  That would be fantastic.  Unless the next set of neighbors ends up being worse which would about be my luck.

Crap I Say When I Am Pregnant

Like "Poop" My Dad Says, I think that Crap I Say When I Am Pregnant" could be just as funny.
Or Frightening.

For example, all said today:
"I don't know how I was sweet to her.  I'm not sweet to anyone anymore."

"I'd ask you to rub what hurts, but that would start a very different kind of special time."

and my personal favorite...

"The amount of curse words coming out of my mouth is in direct proportion to the amount of pain in my vagina."

See, while knocked up, the little filter that runs from my brain to my mouth shrinks right along with the brain.  All the blood is going down south, and can't be keeping my filter running at top speed, which I need at all times.

On top of the emotional roller coaster, I bet I make for one fantastic person to live with right now.  Really.  I must.   Interesting at the very least.

If I spout of more gems, I'll be sure to let you know.  I might just start a chain of CISWIAP (Crap I say when I am pregnant) posts.  Look for them.  They will probably be your favorites.

Its Parenting, Not A Pissing Contest

I am so over the people out there who feel some ridiculous need to show the superiority in the choices they make as parents over the choices other people make. If you feel the need to actually show people how much of a better parent you are, then I have two things to tell you. First, you probably aren't just because of what your actions alone teach your child. Second, Get-over-yourself. Your poop does in fact stink and you actually get dressed in the same one pant leg at a time that every other parent does. The only difference is that you seem to think you do it better where as most of us realize were all just doing the best we can.

You see, as parents, we are all struggling to get through this, and figure this whole thing out one day at a time in our own way. While we may look to each other for support or help, I don't think any of us look to each other to be knocked down a peg or two. Frankly, there are days when I don't think I could afford to be knocked down an inch, let alone a peg or two.

So, let me openly admit that I am not perfect. I do things that may make some of you cringe.
I let my children watch TV. While I generally limit the things they are allowed to watch, I do let them watch. In our house, the tv is often just background noise while we do other things, like arts and crafts, work on writing and the alphabet, or what have you. While I don't care if they watch, I do care about what they watch. It may surprise you to learn that as free wheeling as we are with the remote, I don't let them watch Sponge Bob as I see nothing redeeming in that show what so ever. If they are going to watch, I don't want it to be crap. There are definitely times when I turn it off, or when it is limited, but in general, I don't care if it is on, as long as it is an ok show. If your child never watches tv in their lives, great for you all! I'm glad you are devoted to being your child's sole form of entertainment 24/7 and hope that works out well for you all. I have found it not only to be a sanity saver for myself at times, but by choosing something with an educational benefit, I have seen my child be opened up to many things I would never have thought to teach them.

Yes. I feed my child fast food. They love it. They even appreciate and show their appreciation by using the good manors I have taught them by saying please and thank you for their fast food meals in boxes or bags. I hope your child says please and thank you for whatever it is you serve them. You see, I don't care if you choose to feed your child purely organic, vegan, fruititarian diet, or whatever other thing kind of thing you might think is best. That is all fabulous...for you. If you and your family are happy with your life, then good on you. You should feel the same way for me, and even if you don't, you should fake it. This is how it is supposed to work.

So, having confessed a couple, but surely not all, of the sins you see me commit as a parent, if you would like to leave any comments as to confirm my atrocities, I ask that you please write them all down on paper. Take that paper, and fold it neatly. Then, stick where the sun don't shine. At least then you would have a reason to be grumpy with me.

And the next time you see a parent make a decision that you would never make, be nice. If you absolutely have to comment, say something generic and pleasant like, "that will be nice for them" or simply, "ok, great" or whatever else that you can come up with. If all else fails, just smile and nod. Think about that little piece of paper I mentioned, and where it belongs. Then grin and bear the atrocity before you like the good supportive friend and fellow parent you should be.

She Is Not An Angel

I think I should spend more time relaying the simple, adorable, and often precocious things my children do because like all parents, I like to gloat about how great my kids are.

Last night was Halloween. I'll post more about the holiday and how much candy I now have to hide later. On to the real story of how wonderful my children are.

The Little One was a fairy. The Big One was a caterina; half cat, half ballerina. We actually found that costume.

The Little One was very much in love with being a fairy. She told everyone she was a fairy. Most people got it right away, what with the big pink fairy wings, purple sparkly dress, fairy face paint, and all.
There was, though, one exception.

As we were close to home, and maybe a little tired, we came to a house where an older lady opened the door. I happen to know this woman, as her granddaughter was in The Big One's first Girl Scout Troop. Bless her heart.
Anyway, The Big One is at the door first. She knocks. The door opens. The Nice Lady tells her how cute she is, they do the normal Halloween exchange of "Trick or Treat" and "Thank you"s, and The Big One steps out the way.

The Little One moves up.

The Nice Lady goes nuts for her. She was pretty cute. The Nice Lady kept saying how precious she was, and then she called her an angel. At first I thought she meant she looked angelic. Then said said again, "You are an angel". The Little One got a funny look on her face, but said nothing. She had already said her due "trick or treat" and so she just stood there, pumpkin bucket out, staring at the woman. After another second of gushing, telling her how much of a beautiful angel she was, and still no response from the stone faced Little One, the woman gave her candy.

Then, she got her response.

"Thank you! And I am a fairy!" Then turned with a huff and walked away.
She was no fool. She waited until she had the goods to let the Crazy Lady know she wasn't an angel. Apparently, being called an angel was an affront this this fairy.

She was so upset, the Poor Lady actually apologized to her.

I giggled before telling her to be nice and reprimanding the huff. I told The Nice Lady thank you as well and we were on our way.

Oh, my angelic little fairy.

To Tell The Truth, Or Not

As I have well established, The Big One is quite a character. Though bright, she is often lost in her own world, and will say things that are very honest, but not always very appropriate. I generally attribute this to her blonde type personality. I work with her, reminding her when to speak out loud and when to use the voice inside her head only, or when she needs to wait until she is in private with an appropriate adult like mom or dad to ask these things, and we will continue to have to work on this. I Perhaps it is my strong southern heritage, but I am really hung up on making sure that we establish a and grow the filter that runs from her brain to her mouth at a young age. It isn't that I think you should always filter what you say. In fact, there are many instances where you shouldn't filter what you say, but be brutally honest. There in lies the hardest lesson to teach: when to speak up, and when to let things be.

The other day, after a long trip home, I realized that I may make this a more difficult lesson for my children to learn, because when I choose not to utilize my own filter, it often comes at odd moments.

Traveling with my children, or any child, is usually a working lesson in patience for parents. Our last trip was no exception. Even if your children are well behaved, there are inevitably other things that bring on extra stress, and having children there questioning why in regards to every issue increases the stress exponentially.

Our first stress full, filterless moment came as we entered the security line at out initial airport. I thought that at 5:00am on a Tuesday, there would be little airport traffic, and we should be able to get through the lines quickly. I was wrong.There were very long lines for everything, especially security.

After we checked in, we ran over to the security line. It was insane, and out flight was soon to be boarding. After a few moments, a security person came sort of close to use, and started speaking. She was close enough that I could hear her, but with the thick accent she had, she was not close enough for me to understand her. The next time she came around, and with the little bit we had moved closer, I realized she was calling out flight times. If you flight was at that time or before, they were puling you from the general line, and sending you through a short cut. That was us. We were running late. I grabbed The Girls and ran up to her. She checked our boarding passes and sent us to a short line. We bypass the entire maze of people, and were able to step right into the short lines for the x-ray machines. Just as another member of the security team told me which short line to get into, the real moment began.
As soon as The Girls and I stepped over, from behind me I heard,
"Oh, sure, let them go through, while I miss my business flight."

I turned to look at the man behind me. I wouldn't have really suspected him a business traveler, what with the scruffy jeans, vintage tee, and skate shoes, though I am sure he paid good money for his clothes to look that rough when he bought them. I turned back around, filter on, intent on ignoring him.
Until he started again.

"Sure. AS long as they get to go, everything is fine. If I miss my flight, I lose my job, but as long as they make it, everything is great."

At this point, the same woman who ushered me into my current line ask him when his flight was, and explained to him that they would pull him from the line as well, if they needed to, but that wasn't necessary just yet.
That, of course, did not pacify him. We got one more round of complaints, aimed at us.
At that point, I was done, and the filter was off for the remainder of the trip. I looked at The Big One, who had noticed the commotion, and said out loud, with intent, "Its ok, honey, sometimes, people are just jerks in the morning."
See. The filter came off. She needed to know that people act a fool, and he needed to know that he was acting a fool.

Honestly, it wasn't polite, and it isn't something that I want my children to learn at this age, calling names in particular. However, I also want them to understand that people don't have right to devalue them, or believe that they are any less important than anyone else in this world.

Had I been able to close off my children's ears for a moment, I would have loved to have told that man just that. He was no more, or less, important than anyone else in that line, and we would all be treated the same. Though it would have certainly been done with at least a modicum of profanity thrown in.

Our next filterless moment came shortly there after. On our outbound portion of this trip, we were actually required to run through the airport to make a plane change. SO, of course now The Girls think we must run through the airport all the time. It seems to be hilarious to them. So, we ran straight to our gate. Once we got there, the plane was already on general boarding. WE got in line, and once the boarding passes had been scanned, The Big One took off again to run. I called her back as The Little One and I were walking down the sky bridge.

"You don't need to run anymore. There is going to be a big line of people waiting to get one the plane."

And as I was finishing that line, we hit the line of people. WE took our place at the end, and The Big One looked at me quite confused.

"Mom, why is there a big line waiting to get on the plane?"

I could have been nice, at least, I think I still had the ability, and a little tact left in me, but I opted for a very direct approach on this one.

"Because people bring bags that are far too large to fit onto the airplane with them, bags that they aren't supposed to bring anyway, and that stand in the isle ways, blocking everyone else, and holding up the line, while they struggle to put these bags they shouldn't even have onto the plane. We have to wait until they finish to be able to get on the plane and take our own seats."

This made total sense to her.

"Our bags fit. WE don't' do that."

"You are right, but we still have to wait on people that don't follow the rules, and ruin it for everyone else."

I don't know if the man in front of me thought I was referring to him, because he instantly turned around. I wasn't, though. His carry on was just fine. I checked. He may have been looking to see if I looked as crazy as I sounded. I'm not sure. HE looked at me, then at The Big One, and then turned back around.

I fully realize that if my children don't quite get the filter thing right, I will be at least partially to blame. I suppose I can live with that, as long as they get it right most of the time, or at least know how to apologize should they need to. After all, sometimes, you just have to tell the truth. Nothing else will do.