My kid hates me

I am not sure what the deal is, but I think Jack hates me. Wait, I know he hates me. Ok, not just me. I think Jack hates me, my parents and my grandmother. I think he hates everyone on this planet except for Mark. That may be a little harsh, because he hasn't met everyone on the planet and there could be some nice old lady in Tibet that he would really bond with so I can't go that far. But really, he doesn't like the majority of his immediate family.

I am not sure what we did to make him hate us so much, but he does. How can I tell? Well, he cries. I mean he really cries. A lot. Cries. A lot. Cries... ALL THE TIME. Cries. Jack. Cries. To sum it all up, basically Jack is a crier. Cry Criers Cryington is his new name. I am going to change it legally to that. Then at least he will have a reason to hate me so much.

Saturday night Mark and I went to a movie and then we were going to go to dinner. I called my parents after the movie to check in and my mom put it mildly and said "Jack's been a psycho." She is not one to dis her grandkids, so that shows what kind of evening she had. It goes without saying (well, I guess not since I am saying it) that we skipped dinner. We came home and he was fine. Why? Because Mark was here. He truly is only happy with his Dad, which I personally don't get. What did his Dad do for him? Yes he feeds him and changes the occasional diaper, but so far (let's just be honest) I've done all the heavy lifting. I carried him in my womb for 9 excruciating months. I had the torn ligament that sent red hot pain through my body with every step. I puked. I couldn't sleep. I had the back aches. Me. I had the c-section and the itchies that follow and if you don't ever experience that in your life, you are a lucky person. Its basically psychological torture... this insanely bad itch covering your whole body that you can't satisfy. My nipples turned into giant blistery blood clots while I tried to nurse and then I was the one hooked up to the milking machines like a dairy cow. I stay home with you, Jack. I feed and clothe you way more often than your Dad. I am the one keeping you in your sumo wrestler pudge, not him. If it were just him, you'd eat dinner, a midnight snack and maybe a breakfast if it got in before he had to get ready for work. I DO THE REST, JACKERS! So really, Jack, what has he done for you lately???

I would write more (believe me, I have more to say), but guess what... Jack's crying. CRYING!

Two Thumbs Up

I am not a big movie buff, and I can't wax intelligent about historical significance in films, symbolism behind the scenery, or 99% of the performances nominated for a Golden Globe. I like watching a good movie, and that is about as "Gene Siskel" as I get. But, when I do see one that I like, I spread the word. So, Clint Eastwood, this blog's for you!Mark and I went to Gran Torino tonight. I wasn't totally sure what it was about, and thought it was something similar to Man on Fire from the previews. It looked like an ex-military dude was avenging his neighborhood and ridding it of crime. Let me tell you, that is it in part... but it is so much more. Walt, the main character, is played by Clint Eastwood and I have to say it was about the best performance I have ever seen. He was so angry, wounded, hateful and loving and tender and sympathetic. It was this weird mixture of someone you despise and yet love.

Now in all honestly, I am not going to sit here and say that it wasn't a bit predictable. There are no crazy twists and turns (although the ending is a bit surprising). Its not about wacky subplots or some M. Night Shyamalan "betcha can't guess where I'm going with this one" mystery. Its plot, for me at least, was about life. I don't need the weird wrap up that surprises us all at the end. There is no Sixth Sense "oh wait he was dead all along" business. Its a man and a life and where that life takes him. And the series of events is just... wow. That's all I can say and that's why I am no Gene Siskel (that and because he's dead now). The movie is the perfect mix of humor, wit, heartwarming message and violence. Its a hard combo to do and not make it silly or stupid and Clint acted it, directed it, produced it and even sings the closing song to make it (in a word) fan-FREAKING-tastic.

I really think this is one of the best films I have seen in a long time and I highly recommend it. Seriously, quit reading right now and go see it. I am not even going to say anything else because I expect you all to be shutting down your puters and heading out the door as we speak (or as I type). Its that good.

Big Girls Don't Cry

I don't cry at movies. I don't weep at commercials for long distance service or Hallmark cards and I don't tear up at the Kodak one of the kids taking pictures for their Grandpa's birthday. I don't get emotional at forwarded email stories of angels protecting us mortals and I don't believe in a good cry. Its just not my thing. But, there has always been one exception. Animals dying. I cried 14 minutes into Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey... even though I knew that all three animals lived in the original. I sobbed at the end of Turner and Hooch and have banned it from my movie viewing catalog. Don't even think about inviting me to Marley and Me (I won't even consider reading the book), because I know better and don't get me started on Benji the Hunted. I will cry at the thought. Interestingly though, last night, I witnessed a transformation in myself. I cried. At a TV show. And animals were not involved. WHAT??? The good news is that I started my period today, and while that might be TMI for my readers, it at least gives me hope that I am not turning into a tissue carrying, make up smeared.... sensitive person. GAH!

The show last night was Private Practice, and a little boy died. I know its not real, and in the past I never cared when a human died because they just showed up in another movie and it never seemed real to me. Macaulay Culkin can bite it in My Girl, because he'll just live again to die again in The Good Son so who cares? But, I think having my own kids has "real-ized" kid death for me and I can't do it anymore. That kinda sounds like I enjoyed kids dying in the past, which is not the case. But, it just never really bothered me. Last night, it bothered me. Mark was sleeping and I had tears streaming down my face trying to cry quietly so that he wouldn't wake up confused as to why I had lost my freaking mind. The mother on the show (who deserves an Emmy for her grief scene) cradled her dead son's body as she cried this gut wrenching cry that I can only imagine is half a painful as that sound would be if it were real.

It made me think about all the parents out there who lost their children. I cannot imagine what that would feel like. I truly think that I would die. I don't really get into celebrity gossip, but I feel so bad for John Travolta and Kelly Preston because I cannot imagine that piece of you being ripped away never to be seen again. That has to be the worst thing a human being can experience. Both of my parents lost siblings when I was not yet born, and both sets of my grandparents still mourn 30 years later. My grandmother on my dad's side spent Christmas in Massachusetts just so she could be graveside on the anniversary of her son's death. And, my grandpa on my mom's side shed tears every time he talked about his departed son til the day my grandpa died. It makes you want to not have kids because the idea of something happening to them is too much to take.

So, I guess I am a wussy now because I don't see an actor on that hospital bed dying of measles... I see Will. And don't get me started if its a baby because it will so be Jack in my eyes. And even now as Will cries at me because he woke up way too early today and he sits on my lap and I realize his diaper is leaking and he left a wet spot on my leg, I don't know how I could ever live without him. And, I pray to God I never have to.

A Little Dose of Reality

Ok, I have confessed this before, but a reminder for those of you newbies or forgetful folks out there... I have this unbelievably bad addiction to reality TV. I am thinking about approaching Dr. Drew to do a show, instead of Celebrity Rehab, it will be Average People Addicted to Celebrity Rehab. We will all sit around and talk about how our parents didn't kick us out at age 8 and we were never forced into prostitution to score a hit for our moms... so we watch it on TV to marvel at what life could be like if raised somewhere other than Bettendorf, Iowa (or so I've heard). I think it will really take off. I watch just about all of the really really BAD reality shows as long as they promise to be completely ridiculous. I've heard about Survivor and The Amazing Race... but I don't get into those. Who couldn't be dropped somewhere on Earth and find their way back to a certain destination using clues and doing stunts? Where's the challenge in that? I am talking about locking seven insane women with daddy issues and diva complexes in a house and making them live together, like The Bad Girls Club. Now that's entertainment. So, today's entry is devoted to the shows I am devoted to. We'll call it my reality TV wrap up! And, Amie... if you're reading and not caught up... quit reading now or spoil things forever.

First... this gem of a program started on Monday, and I L-O-V-E it! The Bachelor! When it first came out, I was the quintessential appalled feminist, but now... screw feminism... let the claws come out! This season's bachelor is Jason who DeAnna (spelled De-Anna but pronounced De-Ahnna because in Georgia you can't possibly have a twang like De-Anna... right???) dumped for Jessie, the rogue snow boarder who she later dumped because let's be serious... we all want to date the kooky snowboarder, but no one wants to marry him (sorry, Jessie... true story). For the record, I am pretty sure that I am in love with Jason (sorry, Mark... true story) so I am very picky about what lady he ends up with. And, let me just say... ABC set him up with slim pickings!!! Right now I find them all horribly annoying, particularly Shannon the dental hygienist who started the show off by listing off how she knows EACH and EVERY minute fact about Jason's life from his siblings to what he had for breakfast, but she's not a stalker... giggle giggle, as she is gluing their faces on Barbies and acting out their future life together. (Ok, I made that part up, but you can totally picture her doing it if you watch the show). I will, however, give Another Bad Creation props for instilling evil cat fights right off the bat this season. Why wait a couple episodes when you can get to the good stuff immediately? They decided to let the women vote off one of their own. So, the fur flew. But then, those tricksters turned around and gave the woman they voted for (the only one I kinda like because she looks like my cousin's wife Theresa and acted semi normal) a rose instead. HA! Take that, female dogs!

Next, the wonderful world of real... otherwise known as MTV's The Real World. Season 10,004 started last night and let's just say it... FABULOUS! This time instead of the token gay (who is present, but not nearly interesting enough), they one upped themselves with a transgender was-man now woman. LOVE IT! And, while I am sure Katelynn (if you get to pick your own chick name wouldn't you... I dunno... spell it right???) is a lovely person, and I am totally open to picking whatever gender you feel right as... but come on. Katelynn looks as girly as Patrick Swayze did in To Wong Foo. Its a dude in girl's clothing, so let's not pretend like you can't tell, Ms. I'm Not Ready to Come Out Yet. There's no coming out when you can see it a mile away. Mystery woman is third from the left. Were you right when you guessed which one? If not, its just a bad picture. Believe me... you can tell.

And if the true story of seven people picked to live in a house wasn't good enough, let's change it to seven psychotic girls who live to get wasted, fight and dress from stores like Sluts R Us and Hoochie-Mart. I think they even suspended the whole "you're not allowed to hit people" rule that MTV has, because there has been some hair pulling and water thrown, and The Real World would send you packing with that behavior. This group was kicked out of every bar they went to for fighting with or yelling at other customers. Its classy with a capital C (in a really trashy trailor park)! And I just have to go on record, that in the immortal words of Michael Bolton, "love is a wonderful thing" but when you are 21 like Ailea and you are hooking up with a man in his 50s... that is just icky. Homa describing her dog's hoo hoo icky.

Lastly, on my reality TV list is Top Chef. I hate to put this in the same category as The Bad Girls' Club or even The Bachelor, because the people on this show have actual skill and talent and they seem to be normal human beings. But, I had to insert it because I follow it with the same fervor as the other trash TV, and it might serve to redeem me and my taste just a little bit in your eyes. Last night's episode was fan-freaking-tastic because the Top Chef producers found the cattiest, snottiest, wittiest Brit food critic to replace their usual judge Gail Simmons who is getting hitched and honeymooning for the rest of the season. This man is the epitome of British snark, and therefore I am in love. LOVE! (Sorry Mark and Jason the Bachelor... true story). He is like a bald Elton John in normal glasses and his comment of "I've found the weapons of mass destruction at the bottom of this bowl" could be the funniest thing I have ever heard. Especially when George Bush called him after the episode aired and asked where he would find that bowl. (Ok, I made that part up, too.)

So, now you are up on what consumes my nights and makes me dredge through my days as a zombie. I can't watch a thing in real time thanks to Will and Jack, so when they go to sleep, I go to heaven in the form of Tivoed trash television. Ahh, the wonders of modern technology mixed with some sicko TV reps' creativity. Its like combining peanutbutter and jelly or bleu cheese and buffalo wings... the work of a mad genius!

I MEANT THE KITCHEN OPENING!!!

My friend Homa is a first time dog owner. Actually she is a first time dog Aunt, I guess. Her sister has just taken in a stray Pomchi or Chihuahua/Pomeranian mix. Its a teeny little puffball dog, and I have seen pictures of and is as cute as can be. But, Zain and Homa are too funny because they've never really done the whole dog thing before. They are dog virgins, if you will. I am a long time dog lover (which sounds gross after referring to them as virgins) and owner, so I get a lot of the question calls. The Dog Whisperer, I am not, but I can hold my own with most questions. That is, until Monday's question came along.

Homa calls me and asks how you know when a female dog is in heat. Well, I think there is one pretty clear symptom, but I've never had a female dog, and I "fix" my animals pretty young (thanks to Bob Barker and his "help control the pet population" advice). The one female cat I had did not go into heat, because we spayed that swamp cat at birth, basically. So what did I turn to? I googled (Hello, my name is Lynn and I am a Google addict). What did people do when there was no Internet? That's what I want to know. I'd never be able to find out about dogs in heat, self diagnose my medical problems, shop... post this blog? I would spend my days churning my own butter I guess. Or, perhaps I would start checking off a few things on my to-do list that just never gets to-done. But, anyway. Back to the dog in heat. I google, get the goods and call Homa back with the 411. She then passes the info on to her sister. Then, she calls back.

Homa tells me that per her sister, the dog has started oozing. Eww, right? We females all do it, but for some reason when discussing a dog, I lose all sympathy and get a little icked out. The point of the call, though, was not a gross factor but that they need to gate her into the kitchen. "How do we do that?" Homa asks. I think for a minute and say, "How big is the opening?" Homa thinks for a minute and whatever came out of her mouth is still a blur to me. I think my mind immediately shut off, and a split personality developed in me to protect my real self from hearing such destructive information. I was going to name my new one Sasha Fierce, but Beyonce already took that name, is instead it was Myrtle. So, Myrtle listened as she begins to explain the oozing and the size of the opening its coming from and all the Lynn personality hears is "YUCK YUCK YUCK YUCK" until I can focus enough to yell over her dog anatomy describing voice "I MEANT THE KITCHEN OPENING!!!"

Pass the Prozac, Please

It has come to my attention that I may be a prime candidate for Prozac. No, its not the Prozac makers that told me that, either. Its my friends. Do we think that may be a sign of something?

Here's the truth... I am stressed out. I have never been a person easily stressed before. In school or my past career, I never really got stressed. I just work the problem. The busier I am, the better I function. But, that was then. Now I feel like I spin my wheels and get nowhere. I feel out of control in my own life, and... this will be a shocker to those people who know me... but I am a bit of a control freak. Ok. Fine. My name is Lynn and I am a control addict. But, I find myself in a world that I can't control and I don't deal well (or so I've been told).

I dwell on the fact that I can't fix Tabbi. I dream about it. It haunts me... literally. And yet I still can't fix it. Even today, after my post about her safety and security... today, I would gladly send her back to her mother. I would. She was a nightmare last night and again this morning, throwing tantrums and acting out like a toddler from hell. She'll be 10 next month. She has behavior issues that I had no idea about and quite honestly I have hit a point where I don't feel like I have the ability or the desire to do whatever work (or more importantly the work that will take a long time) to fix her. I want my life back. A life where we didn't scream every night. I want to raise my boys in a house where we have this constant weight on our shoulders. We're either in a blow up or tensely waiting for the next one to happen and I don't want to live like that anymore. I don't get it and I can't deal with it. When the clock strikes 4, I feel my whole body stiffen because I know she is coming home and my pleasant day is over. And when it happens and she walks through the door with her two failed math tests and spends 3 hours on math homework that should take 20 minutes, and she doesn't do her other homework and she doesn't do her chore for the night and she throws a massive tantrum, I just can't deal. I cannot comprehend why I can tell her what to do and she won't listen. And I don't know how to fix it.

Likewise, I struggle with Jack. I get frustrated with an infant. No, my friends from CPS, not frustrated like I am going to shake him or anything. But, I want his crabby phase (which started right around birth) to be over. I want him to sleep through the night and/or be pleasant in the day and I can't make either one happen. I am not even looking for both. I know easy babies are hard to come by, so I don't need easy. I need easier. I need one or the other, night or day to be a little bit easier when trying to raise the Tasmanian Devil and the real Devil at the same time.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think I am depressed (although after re-reading my post I might be). I am glad to be a stay home mom and some things make it totally worth it. Yesterday Jack was sitting up and Will was showing him how to climb on the treadmill (it may not be the exercise it was intended for, but its still exercise). Will was so excited to have his little brother watching him go "reeree reeree high" and Jack smiled every time Will said his name. Its so fun to watch this sibling relationship starting. The proud show off big brother teaching the adoring little brother. That makes the other 8 hours of Jack crabbing at me worth it. But, as I said before, I feel like I dwell on the negative much more than I appreciate the positive. I cannot let Tabbi and her behavior go while she is at school. I cannot bounce Jack and listen to the crabbing without that moment in my head of "WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU!!!!"

So, per my friends and Prozac experts themselves, maybe it would help. It sounds like it just takes an edge off. Stops the dwelling and allows for a little more comfort with the "out of control" feelings. Mark is not a fan of drugs, so his opinion was a big no, with the obligatory caveat of "but I will support you if you decide to take them." But, I don't know. How do you know you need this stuff? Am I looking for that quick fix that will just make life easier? I don't think so, because if I were, crack would do a better job and I am not considering taking that yet. But, per my friends, maybe life in my house would be a little less high strung if I were a little less high strung. Thoughts, anyone?

Resolutions Update

I thought I would do a quick post to let you know how I am doing on my resolutions three days in to the New Year. I am doing a pretty rock star job, if I do say so myself.

Resolution 1: Be a nicer person. Well, on New Year's Day I came down with the stomach flu (Thank you, Will) and was basically puking or comatose until this morning so... CHECK! Its hard to be mean when in a coma.

Resolution 2: Lose weight. CHECK! I think I puked up everything I've eaten since 1998, so I am pretty sure I got that one covered. Not to mention, there are Dunkin Donuts in my house right now and I had two halves (equals one donut, I know, but to be accurate I ate half of one kind and half of another). Normally I would have four to six halves (PIG!!!!). But no... I am well on my way to size 4 jeans. Or... 14. Whatever.

Resolution 3: Be a better mother. Well, I am iffy on this one. I feel like I did it because I pretty much checked out for a day and therefore couldn't have screwed up too badly. But, on the other hand I feel like a good mother has to actually be around her children. So, I will call it a tie.

So, thanks to Mr. Flu Bug, 2009 is off to a pretty good start, resolutionarily speaking!