Today's parenting FAIL!

Prepare to be floored.

I got this via @parenting whom I follow on Twitter (thanks, guys!); check it.

The BBC hires a host for a childrens programme who happens to have been born with only one arm. Stupid, frightened, prejudiced parents write in and flood message boards with hysterical crap. Be sure to watch the vid about half way down.

STEP UP parents!

"How do I explain this to a 3 year old?"

Well, just farkin' explain it, dumbarse.  How do you explain a pregnant woman? A black woman? A woman in a wheelchair?

Here, let me help you:

"Mummy, what happened to that lady's hand?" 
"Nothing, Drusilla, darling. She only has one. She was born that way, just like you were born with blonde hair and the cutest dimples evar!"
"Does it hurt?  It looks funny!"
"Do your dimples hurt, silly? No, it's just an arm.  It does look odd, but so does daddy's hair when he first gets up in the morning, LOL. Now come eat your bickie so we can run down to the shops."

SEE?  Easy peasy. Now quit slinking along the edge of motherhood and step up and do your jobs, Moms.

Professor, can I talk to you about my grade?

Well, this week seems to be article posting week!

I blame my lovely and intelligent friends on all of my various boards and on Twitter. They are an amazing, interesting, and varied bunch.

Anyway, here's the article on the inflated sense of entitlement in today's college students.

"“Many students come in with the conviction that they’ve worked hard and deserve a higher mark,” Professor [Marshall] Grossman [U of Maryland] said. “Some assert that they have never gotten a grade as low as this before.”



He attributes those complaints to his students’ sense of entitlement.


“I tell my classes that if they just do what they are supposed to do and meet the standard requirements, that they will earn a C,” he said. “That is the default grade. They see the default grade as an A.”"

[snip]

"James Hogge, associate dean of the Peabody School of Education at Vanderbilt University, said: “Students often confuse the level of effort with the quality of work. There is a mentality in students that ‘if I work hard, I deserve a high grade.’"

And these quotes by students just floored me:

"Jason Greenwood, a senior kinesiology major at the University of Maryland echoed that view.



“I think putting in a lot of effort should merit a high grade,” Mr. Greenwood said. “What else is there really than the effort that you put in?”


“If you put in all the effort you have and get a C, what is the point?” he added. “If someone goes to every class and reads every chapter in the book and does everything the teacher asks of them and more, then they should be getting an A like their effort deserves. If your maximum effort can only be average in a teacher’s mind, then something is wrong.”

Yes, Jason, honey. What's wrong is that you HAVE NOT ACHEIVED ANYTHING. 

Let's say you're stranded on a desert island and there's a cache of food under a large stone.  You go out every day and struggle against that stone - go out 10 times a day and push and groan and really really really make an effort to move that bloody great stone so that you can eat.  But no matter how hard you try, the basic fact is: if you don't move that stone - if you are too small or too weak or whatever other reason - you will not eat.

Just because you pay your money and show up and read the books and attend class doesn't guarantee you an education. You gotta LEARN shit. When you get out in the real world  knowing nothing about kinesiology (what IS that anyway?) you won't be able to tell your boss "Well, I tried really hard!"

Would you like a surgeon operating on you who couldn't recall the basics of gross anatomy but he got good grades cuz he TRIED really hard?!

More student nuggets of wisdom:


"Sarah Kinn, a junior English major at the University of Vermont, agreed, saying, “I feel that if I do all of the readings and attend class regularly that I should be able to achieve a grade of at least a B.”

Yes, Sarah, you should be able to, but you have to show your professor that you actually know something about English not just that you could be arsed to show up for class.


Best quote from article: “Instead of getting an A, they make an A,”

That's right.  We earn what we get.  What a concept.

Parents you are SO falling down on the job. I swear it starts with kindergarten graduations and peewee soccer games where everyone gets a trophy whether they played well or stood on the sidelines whinging. It starts with parents expecting their little perfect miraculous angels to be responsible for their own farking actions.

(PS: yes, I Googled kinesiology.)


 

Is that all you got, universe?!

*sigh*

So, apparently we were behind with the Gods of Happenstance on our Agony Dues and are now being properly caught up.

Got home Monday to discover the heater running, the house freezing, and a horrible chemical smell all through the house.

Took the furnace (it's an ancient gaspack) cover off, tested the fan (which tends to stick), rang the gas company to be sure we were green, checked all the electrical junctions.  Well, it's got gas, got spark, fan works, and it will fire up ... but then the flames go out and it just blows cold air (and gas?!) into the house.

So the heater is broken.  We've been getting by on a small electric space heater and the wood stove (which is in the kitchen - opposite end of the house from the bedrooms).*

Is there some universal rule that All Bad Crap Must Happen At Once? 

The medical bills just started coming in and the prescription costs have been eating us alive. Just the cost of the strips Bodog needs for his blood tester (he must check his blood 4 times a day) is astounding.

My truck is acting up, my tractor won't stay cranked, and the roof still leaks.

Hmm.  I guess it could be worse ... the chainsaw could be broken. ROTFL!

OH, on the subject of Bitty and school, I got some pics of her at the end of the day her first day:

She did quite well and was eager to go back.  She did, however, have a meltdown yesterday.  I'm trying not to stress about it, but it was so painfully clear that it wasn't a 'normal' kid reaction to the situation (some other classmates had been rewarded with Smarties for good behaviour and Bitty, not understanding why she was excluded, had had her typical reaction: cry, then shut down like a switched-off robot.)

I suppose that both she and I (and her teachers) will learn more every day how to cope.  I hope I won't fret myself into an ulcer before then. *rolls eyes*

*We do have a parrafin (kerosene) heater for emergencies but, 1) it triggers my asthma so badly that I'm miserable whenever it's on and 2) I will only have it in the mud room (which has a concrete floor and a high ceiling).  I absolutely refuse to run it anythere else in my 140 year old tinderbox of a house.  Wood frame, wood floors, ultra low ceilings?  Nope.

Would ya like to slap a "please" on that before I slap you?

(Alternate title: "No daughter-in-law of mine ...")

OK, so yeah.  I went out in public yesterday (as opposed to scooting out in my sweats, shades, and ratty tee, grabbing my schoolies and running home).

There's a lovely park beside my kids' school and it was an equally lovely day, so the littles and I walked over, fetched the bigs, and they played a bit on the playground.

There was already a family there, a stereotypical C-Town unit: dad, mum, 2 kids (one boy, one girl, natch!), ridiculous little purebred dog, and SUV that seated SEVEN with the tiringly ubiquitous stickers on the back (college team flip-flops/palmetto tree on left and stick-figure family on right with every member even the dog, awwww. NOT).

My five scattered out onto the playgound immediately and I sat on a nearby bridge/toy/thingy that's rarely played on but in the shade.

Almost instantly, the girl, aged about 3, ran afoul of Bulk.  He tried to walk across the same 3 foot wide bridge as she and she SCREAMED at the tops of her lungs and whined piercingly: "Iiiiiiiiiiii was on this!"

Bulk, who has two older sisters, wisely retreated - albeit a bit baffled.

Mom, who looked as if her Zoloft was kicking in nicely, sort of peered into the middle distance.

Dad, however, much in command, was pacing back and forth, cellphone clamped to ear, TALKING IN A VERY LOUD VOICE.  He continued to do this without interruption the entire time they stayed there.  I heard about their friends who were driving down from northern climes and were currently in eastern Virginia and had just stopped to eat and had caught part of some game (football?) on the telly in the restaurant and wow, I hope they make it to the playoffs, etc, etc.

Meantime, the boy was trying earnestly to tell Boy what he should be playing.  Boy was politely talking to him but rebuffing his ideas.  The child was talking about telly shows Boy has never seen (and frankly seem too young for a 5-year-old. He mentioned Barney.)

Anyway, he quickly abandoned Boy for THCTD, who is so social that she happily went along without a clue as to what the boy was talking about.

Problem was, was that the child got more and more aggresive.  He began speaking so loudly he was shouting.  He also had the unnerving habit of leaning right into THCTD's face to speak to her.  He even grasped her arm and pulled her to where he wanted her a few times.

Mom just watched, Dad ignored.

Now THCTD is, heh, no dummy, and she's also a tall, capable gal, so I wasn't afraid this suburban milquetoast was going to bully her, but it did take all of my willpower NOT to micromanage.  At one point they were all playing and Bossy Boy spent the entire time telling everyone in a petulant/cross voice what to do and how to do it.

Cut to Screaming Girl.

She did the rounds whilst everyone else played, and whined and screamed if anyone got in her way or played on anything she wanted.  My crowd just ignored her.  I secretly wished she had encountered Fiver, the 30lb master of screaming-to-get-your-way, on a narrow bridge.  He easily outweighed her and was not much shorter.  It would have been a smackdown.

ANYway, about this time, Screamy appered at my elbow.

Now, I am not about to be ugly to a child unless greatly provoked, especially another person's kid.  So I looked down at her and smiled. The wee cherub, in turn, looked up at me from her nest of entirely playground-inappropriate pink/polka-dotted/frou-frou/tacky/lacy/crapwear-and-hair-accessories and said:

"Can you move? I wan' on dis."

I honestly was so flabbergasted that I got up.

Now, my kids are not perfect by any stretch.  Srsly.  But I do expect them to be polite and respectful and well behaved at all times.

My 3-year-old, Bulk, would not dream of speaking that way to anyone!  If he forgot his 'please', he would still say: "May I get on dis?" in that situation.  But most of all, none of my children would, in a million years, presume to ask an adult to do anything (other than help them)!!!

(Yes, that was worth 3 exclaimation points.)

But brace yourself, it gets better.

Dad, finally gets off the phone. After briefing Mom on a convo that she HAD to have heard, because *I* heard the entire thing to the tiniest detail and I was over 30 feet away, they adjourned, after a brief begging session with their kids ending in a bribe, to their silver Expedition.

We played in peace for a bit.  Ahhhhh.  If only we had one of those playgound thingys here at the house.

Then, just as I was contemplating ringing Bodog and seeing if he was up for meeting us, another huge SUV pulls up (this one was black, but the tacky back window stickers were almost the same).

This one disgorged three lanky girls, a 5th grader, a 2nd grader, and a tall kindergartener dressed, you guessed it, in lace, pink, frou-frou, NOT-play-clothes, crap.

(BTW, I know the exact grades because they were sisters whom Boy knew from school.  They also had awful Western-themed matching names - think Steele,Canyon, and Colt if they'd been boys. *gag*)

(oh, and FWIW, the 2nd grader was wearing a spaghetti tank, miniskirt, and v. high-heeled sandles.  She was clearly athletic but almost fell on those stupid stacked heels and I saw WAY more underpants than should be shown in public.*)

Anyway, Boy knew these three and he homed in on the kindergartener.  Well this little ... person was a piece of work.  At various points whilst she was there, she 1) screamed in his face, 2) asked him questions in a loud, petulant voice, then walked away, and 3) responded in a bored, dismissive fashion when he spoke (at one point she yelled "I do-on't CARE!" after he answered her nicely). Add to this that she cut in front of, pushed, and stepped on all of my other children, whinged loudly at anyone if he/she played where she wanted to play (in a stunning imitation of Screaming Girl - 2 years hence), and totally ignored their caretaker/nanny/mom(?) despite the woman asking her repeatedly to stop risky stunts. (Woman never once asked her to to quit being the wee bitch that she was being.)

I, meanwhile was sat by, alternately fuming and being gobsmacked at these kids' behaviours.  I mean, can you imagine Princess Bitch all grown up?  Her poor, poor husband-to-be.

I finally couldn't stand it any more and instructed Boy, sotto voce,  not to play with her.  Poor HCTD had been trying since they arrived just to get them to speak to her but every girl just ignored her. Bitty and Bulk tried to stay out of the way as all three girls were running, pushy-shovey, climbing on things not meant to be climbed on, etc.

Then Fiver got involved.

Well Princess Bitch decided she wanted to go thru an opening currently occupied by Fiver.  She screamed at him AND tried pushing him and he jutted out his jaw and held his ground. Hey, he's got sisters.

(BTW, they were almost 5 feet off the ground and she was trying to push him OUT of the opening.  I was halfway accross the playground - incoming - at this juncture.)

So I grab Fiver, but he's gripping the bars and glaring up at PB.  I have to prise his fingers off and this takes, what, 4 seconds? Meantime PB is trying to get out the opening by stepping over us and steps on my hand.  I look up at her and she says:

(wait for it)

"Can you move?"

"Please?" I snap, and the look on her face is priceless.  She is stunned.  She stares at me wide-eyed for several seconds as I give her my best I'm-gonna-pick-a-switch-and-wear-your-arse-out look.  She glances nervously at Boy and you can see the connections being made in her self-centered ,over-indulged brain; this is a mom who runs a tight ship, this is a boy who is polite and sweet as a result.

But then her momma's glorious parenting kicks in and she rolls her eyes and says in her best 'whatevrrrrr' voice: "yeah, please" and steps over us onto the climbing thingy.

-----

Now, I've spoken a lot in the past about how I wanted all boys and how nervous I was about raising girls and how I'm not girlyfroufrou and didn't know how I would handle that sort of stuff.  Well, I've learned a lot from my two smart, capable, wee girls including how I won't die if there are *gag* fairy books and *gag* pink frilly shirts in my house.  People are individuals.

But, by golly, one thing I've NOT done is produce two whining, screaming, self-centered, mean-spirited, over-indulged, wastes of two X chromosomes disguised as clothes racks.  My girls are friendly, sweet, and polite.  Oh yeah, they DO whine a bit, and yeah, they do like to get their way every now and then, and yeah, they can be difficult as only us females can be (hence the 'used to sisters' remarks), but they are at heart great little people.  NOT divas, NOT brats, NOT princesses.

*amount of underpant veiwable in public on any underage female that is acceptable? NONE.

EDITED to correct glaring typos.  Sorry.

Article

Oh arrgh!  This dieting article made me tear my hair.  Are humans this pathetic?

"When it comes to dieting, Americans put on a good show, buying millions of diet books, watching TV programs about weight loss, obsessing over celebrities and their baby weight. But in the end, that may be all it is: a show. (snip)

"Our interest in losing weight is waning," says Harry Balzer, lead food and beverage industry analyst for The NPD Group,(snip)

Dieting was once practically a national pastime. In 1990, the same report found that 39 percent of women and 29 percent of men were on a diet. So, what's happened? Balzer, who's tracked Americans' eating habits since the 1980s, believes the answer is that dieting is simply too hard. "It's much easier to change your attitude," he said, than to sustain the willpower to eat less."

Amazing!  And the most astounding part is that people are like this about everything these days!  Relationships, parenting, breastfeeding (yes, I went there)!

That view is echoed by Kelly D. Brownell, director of the Rudd Center for Food Policy and Obesity at Yale University, who says that diets are "notoriously ineffective," and posits that many overweight people may have simply given up.


Marge McMillan, 60, is one who says she's given up on diets, if not on slimming down. A veterinarian who lives in Medford, McMillan tried the low-carb Atkins diet and Weight Watchers but threw in the towel on both. Now, she's just trying to eat healthily. "Diets don't work," she said. "You lose the weight but regain more."

Not true!  I vented about this over on my Thrifty Dieters Blog.


Dr. Sasha Stiles, medical director of the Obesity Consult Center at Tufts Medical Center, offers additional reasons why dieting is on the wane: "A lot of people are saying I don't have enough money to spend on a diet, or I'm going to try surgery."

Patently absurd.  You don't need a lot of money to diet, I can testify!  As for the surgery, well that's unessessary in most cases, IMHO.  "I'll just get my insurance to pay to dramatically and dangerously and permanently alter my body because I can't be arsed to put the fork down."




There's another possible explanation: Fewer people are dieting because there's no exciting new diet on the scene. In 2004, the top-selling diet book in the country, "The South Beach Diet," sold 2.4 million copies, according to Nielsen BookScan, a data provider for the publishing industry. In 2007, the most popular book, "You: On a Diet," by Oprah Winfrey's health guru Dr. Mehmet Oz and Dr. Michael Roizen, managed only 706,000 copies. This year's top selling book, "Eat This Not That!" has sold a mere 552,000 copies so far, and is more reference than diet book.


After years of being sucked into one weight-loss phenomenon after another - low-cal, low-fat, low-carb - serial dieters seem to have fallen into a fallow period. With no miracle plan animating dinner-party and workplace conversations, it's the same old, same old. That gets boring, says Amy Kropke, 41, of Newton, who says she'd be "fabulous" if she could shed 20 pounds.


"I love that moment where you're like, 'This is it. This is definitely the one," she says, her voice tinged with nostalgia for the days when South Beach thrilled her. She wants to be seduced again, preferably by "something that was easy, that you could lose 10 pounds without having to do too much."

Well butter my broad bum and call me a jumbo bisquit.  Perhaps she'd also like to sit at home all day and veg in front of her 'stories' whilst Zachary Quinto fetched her soda and brushed the cheesy poof dust off of her ratty sweatshirt?

(oh, wait ... that was MY fantasy ...)

If only reading diet books triggered weight loss, we'd be all set. Even without a new hit title, the number of weight-loss books sold in 2007 hit 4.8 million, up from 4 million in 2006, and 3.6 million in 2005, according to Nielsen BookScan. Still, sales aren't what they were in 2004 when the "South Beach" juggernaut was in full swing. That year, 5.3 million diet books sold.
(snip)
"I keep wondering if it's market saturation," said Oliver, professor of political science at the University of Chicago. "You have people who are interested in dieting who tried South Beach and tried Atkins. Some were successful, but they may have gained the weight back. We may be in a cycle where we're waiting for the next new Scarsdale, South Beach, Atkins . . . the whole rigmarole. Someone who is a clever marketer may see this as a time to strike."


So should I begin working on my Paleo Diet book now?  Should I? :excited:

Doubtful Duds?

It was brought to my attenton that I hadn't blogged in, like, forever (*waves at Jodi*) and I realised it was true. Dang.

I guess between my being busy, my being on so many bulletin boards, including my own, plus Twitter, I can just yak all day about whatever I need to, whenever it occurs to me.



Well, I promise to pay better attention to the blog. Heck, school starts in less than two weeks. That aughta give me PLENTY of crap to bitch about, lol!



Here's something right here. What the Blue Heck is up with this?



"SEATTLE - A 6-foot-tall, 250-pound letter carrier is campaigning for the right to take off his pants. Dean Peterson wants the U.S. Postal Service to add kilts as a uniform option for men.


The idea was soundly defeated in July at a convention of his union, the 220,000-member National Letter Carriers' Association, so Peterson knows convincing management will be an uphill struggle, but at least he'll be comfortable in his kilt, or Male Unbifurcated Garment.


"In one word, it's comfort," he said.


With his build, Peterson said, his thighs fill slacks to capacity, causing chafing and scarring.
Peterson, 48, has Finnish and Norwegian ancestry but not Scottish. He began wearing kilts a couple years ago when his wife brought one back from a trip to Scotland. (A spokeswoman for Britain's Royal Mail said kilts are not allowed as part of its letter carrier uniforms.)


Now Peterson wears them everywhere — to one son's football games, the other son's concerts, shopping and gardening."


(snip)



""Unbifurcated Garments are far more comfortable and suitable to male anatomy than trousers or shorts because they don't confine the legs or cramp the male genitals the way that trousers or shorts do," he wrote. "Please open your hearts — and inseams — for an option in mail carrier comfort!"


The union's executive committee recommended disapproval, saying there was not enough demand for kilts to be worth the bother of the resolution, and delegates agreed by a large margin.


But Peterson said there are plenty of approved uniform items that very few mail carriers wear, including a cardigan sweater, vest and pith helmet. He said many convention delegates did express support after his resolution was voted down."



WTF?! Who gives a great flying very bad word at the moon if a bloke wears a kilt? And I'm not just saying this as a proud Scottish American, here.



As long as his bits are covered and the garment is businesslike, who cares? Here's a pic of Peterson in his proposed official USPS kilt:



That looks like a perfectly acceptable form of dress to me. Can't they wear shorts? What's the difference? This has got to be some bizarre male stereotyping thing because there is no logical explaination why they would say no.

This is particularly stupid: "The union's executive committee recommended disapproval, saying there was not enough demand for kilts to be worth the bother of the resolution."

What? You're meeting right that second. Just effing approve it.

So my conclusion? National Letter Carrier's Association: FAIL!

-----

One last note: many of you know that after my last child was born (March '07) I lost a huge amount of weight (121lbs). Well, at the holidays I gave myself a break and stopped actively trying to lose weight. Well, since about March I have been piddling about and making NO progress jump starting my diet again (I need to lose 20 more lbs).

I was Googling along last week checking out the recommended carbs for a healthy diet and I came across this diet. I posted about it on my forums if you'd like to follow my progress (or comment!) It's pretty cool and thrifty, too.

Drama close to home

So, my husband, the Mr Evil Genius, aka Bodog has put up and interesting blog post over on his personal blog about the bru-ha-ha over Irmo SC high school Principal Eddie Walker's resignation.

I had a huge, long post about it but could never finish it. See, I know the guy and I kept getting so damned angry at the idiocy (on BOTH sides of the argument) that I just couldn't get my thoughts together (Mrs Chili, I am not, lol! BTW, that's her design idea up top there).

Anyway, so, briefly:

I don't agree with Eddie. I'm sad that his narrow views of sexuality - which reflect the dogma of christianity - would cause him to resign his job. A job at which he excels. I'm sorry that Lexington/Richland district 5 will be losing such a good principal.

But, see, here's one thing that has been making me really angry about Eddie's resignation. Folks are so busy being outraged at his opinions that they forget that he has the right to have them.

Eddie can think whatever crazy thing he wishes. If he wants to believe that gay people have sex all the time willy-nilly he can. If he wants to believe the frankly ridiculous notion that is espoused by some christians that folks choose to be gay, then he can. If he wants to resign his job because of the formation of a Gay-Straight Alliance ... then he can.

Eddie Walker is NOT trying to get the club shut down. He is NOT trying to ban gays at Irmo High School. He is just choosing to resign his job because they are asking him to support something with which he feels uncomfortable.

I DON'T AGREE WITH HIM, but I do agree that he has the right to his opinions - no matter how stupid I think they are - and the right to resign his job because of them.

Yet so many are vilifying the man rather than the idiotic religious pin-hole view of biology. He wasn't born with this bias, folks. It was indoctrinated into him by his church.

I can tell you, with the utmost confidence, that Eddie Walker would help out any fellow man regardless of race, creed, colour, or sexual orientation. He might disagree with a lifestyle but he would NEVER turn his back on another human being.

The media needs to instead tune into the voices of some of the TRULY prejudiced and bigoted parents whose children attend the district. These are the sick sorts who, instead of saying "well I don't agree with it but you have the right to get together as a club" are spouting hatred. THESE are the type of people who would happily BAN clubs that didn't match their ideals. Wrong sex, wrong race, wrong religion ... yer outta there.

Trust me. I've heard/read some mind-blowing moronic attitudes voiced around here recently.

Rather than attacking a good (if misguided) man we should be hacking at the root of the problem: those erroneous beliefs and an enormous group of people who have no grasp of SCIENCE.

Of dolts and duct tape

Ohhh, have I got one for you today!

I almost posted this over on Blue's Blog because I felt the need, upon reading this, to use (v. bad word) or maybe (oh dear! naughty!), so if one slips out, forgive me.

Check it out. Parents whinge about tape on doors.

"At a heated meeting Monday, Michelle Mata told the Lake Local school board in Millbury that the tactic panicked her son during a recent weekend trip to Chicago.
Sylvia Keeler said she may file charges. Her son, Mark Hummel, said he worried he could be trapped during a fire."

Oh cry me a river, emo boy! Trapped? By one piece of duct tape?

Well, I am of an engineering bent and love science, so I was fascinated and wanted to explore this topic.

Let's take a look at this.

This is the door to the bathroom in my home. It is much lighter that the average hotel room door (a heavier door would be advantageous to opening).



I taped it shut with not one but two bits of regular 3M duct tape like ye get from Lowe's:



Taped thus, the door came open easily.

Well, I don't know details of the hotel door taping and I also wasn't trying to get out from the inside. What I needed was help for this to be as accurate as possible.

How could I simulate a 'panicky' high school student?

Like this:



Yeah. Ohio moms? Yer kids are SO playing you and you need to wake up and start parenting.

For your further entertainment pleasure, here's a hot discussion on the subject.

Here it is over on our own Evil Genius Woman boards. Feel free to join us and tell us what you think!

Oh, by the way. Just a thought. Don't hotel doors open INWARD? That would make the whole thing moot. Even my 14 month old could the bloody damned thing.



The Human Crash Test Dummy: daughter of that woman who duct taped her child into the loo!

UPDATE! -

I just gleaned this from the Topix forum (abt page 133 I think) linked above:

"Okay people, i was one of the students in the room where the conflict arose. A simple strip wasn't all it was. It went from the wall around the handle twice back onto the wall. As simple as it sounds it was more. Yes, i agree everything has been blown out of proportion, but to sit there and riddicule everyone for not being able to open the door is rediculous. I don't for one beleive that this matter should have escaladed into a lawsuit, no. Personally i hope for everything to be closed and done sooner than what it seems to be. " (sic)

Uhm ...

I surely surely hope this is a joke. If this is an actual forum post by a student in this Millbury Ohio high school, then you Ohio Moms need to stop being concerned about duct tape! Not only do your wee delicate babes NEED to be taped in a room they need to be in there doing their English Homework!

Empty gestures

So, yeah, Earth Hour.

CHICAGO - "From the Sydney Opera House to Rome's Colosseum to the Sears Tower's famous antennas in Chicago, floodlit icons of civilization went dark Saturday for Earth Hour, a worldwide campaign to highlight the threat of climate change.

The environmental group WWF urged governments, businesses and households to turn back to candle power for at least 60 minutes starting at 8 p.m. wherever they were.
The campaign began last year in Australia, and traveled this year from the South Pacific to Europe to North America in cadence with the setting of the sun.

'What's amazing is that it's transcending political boundaries and happening in places like China, Vietnam, Papua New Guinea,' said Andy Ridley, executive director of Earth Hour. 'It really seems to have resonated with anybody and everybody.'

Earth Hour officials hoped 100 million people would turn off their nonessential lights and electronic goods for the hour. Electricity plants produce greenhouse gases that fuel climate change."

Right. Now, I have no problem with this gesture in theory. Any conservation is good and I suppose it could have 'raised awareness'. But here's my thing. What good is raising folks's awareness of anything: pollution, wildlife endangerment, climate change, cancer, etc if the people in question do nothing about it?

How many millions of people read the newspaper every single day, about things that they themselves could help change with almost no effort, and say: "Wow, that's a damned shame" then take another bite of toast and turn the page?

To me, Earth Hour is like a person who knows she's too fat so she says; "I'm obese! It is affecting my health! Today, I shall not eat ANY fast food!"

This sort of thing is tailor made by the ineffectual activist ("sign the online petition!") for the self-indulgent ("My plastic water bottles and disposable diapers ARE stuffing our landfills full, but I carry them to my SUV in an unbleached hemp tote!") to make them feel better about themselves. A way for the normally wasteful to balm their wee consciences with an hour of darkness before switching back on every telly in the house and firing up the Wii and anxiously checking the temp on their wine refrigerators.

So, no, I didn't turn my power off. I had no intentions of doing so.

Oh, Blue, aren't you concerned about the environment? About the polar bears?!

Hah.

I do three times more conservation of energy than the average person. This isn't a brag. If you read this blog regularly, you know it's just my chosen lifestyle.

Emphasis on chosen.

Why? I dunno. It just makes sense to me. I have an almost pathological loathing of waste. Why would you throw perfectly good clothes away when you can donate them? Why would you buy individually packaged food when you can divide up large packages? Why would you uses a clothes dryer so everything has that slimey softener feel and sickening fragrance? Why would you buy a monsterous SUV for your family of three? Why would you want to build a 400k McMansion 3 feet away from two almost identical McMansions in a neighbourhood where they tell what sort of post box you are required to put up? Why would you use snack sized ziplock bags, period?

These and other questions ...

But, seriously, it comes down to choices. We choose to do or not do, and that's cool. For myself, I'd MUCH rather spend my cash buying Zesto's ice cream cones and eating them in the park with my children than spend my cash for plastic nappies that will still be yucking up this planet when my grandkids have kids. I'd rather mush up the peas we're having for supper to feed to my baby than spend 50c on a ridiculous wee jar of the exact same thing from the store.

We all decide what sort of lifestyle we want to live and if yours is making you feel guilty about the environment then bloody well do something about it. Not some empty, quick gesture, but Some. Actual. Thing. Turn the heat down. Wash some dishes in the sink. Combine trips into town. Take your lunch. Recycle those newspapers and cans.

Conservation is no different from saving money or losing weight or supporting a cause like curing cancer or feeding the poor. You must actively participate. Sensational gestures without follow-up lifestyle changes amount to no more than signing online petitions. They soothe the guilty conscience and otherwise do ... nothing.

Ramen love and Drama hate!

Just a few silly pics of The Brood enjoying some ramen noodles I made as a quick side for some broiled chicken.

Boy helps out his fork:

Bitty Girl and The Human Crash Test Dummy eat like young ladies. Sort of. Note the fancy cutlery work on THCTD's part.

The Incredible Bulk eschews cutlery:



Ditto Fiver, but at least he's eaten his green beans and chicken:


Well, let me get back to work. I've nothing to distract me now that I've abandoned my bulletin board due to high drama. *rolls eyes*

What? Oh, hell yeah, I'll share the story with ya, lol.

Get this: I apparently (read: supposedly) offended another board member with what was intended as a light-hearted college football rivalry joke.

Now, what would YOU do if you're on a bulletin board and come accross something offensive? I always immediately question it - that is, I ASK the person if she meant it that way. Especially if I don't know her (and understanding how nuances get lost with written media).

But this chick, instead of just going "whoa, I hope you didn't mean that seriously, cuz I found that offensive" (in which case, I would have apologised immediately) - climbs up on her high horse and pronounces down her nose that she went to that school and she's not that stereotype and we shouldn't bandy that sort of thing about lest we suddenly devolve into folks who think the 'n' word is acceptable.

I'm sorry? Excuse me?

The whole implication that my making a college rivalry joke meant that I really thought it was literally true, really shocked me and hurt my feelings.

So, I tried to make a joke and she tried to make me feel bad because SHE is hypersensitive.

I failed. She succeeded.

The amusing bit was that she condescendingly told me that her simply disagreeing with me didn't make her reaction ugly. Uh, no, honey. You're overreacting and being a pissy bitch; you are being ugly. Hello!

Ahh, well, there's always one or two on every bulletin board, I guess. *sigh* I just wish they'd stay off of that one. I haven't decided if I'm going back as my threshold for self-absorbed drama queens is low.

Blimey. Most of those folks were my friends and I miss them already. It's quite an eclectic group, clever and (usually) full of humour.

Jeez. How sad is it that those folks are the only adults I 'speak' with (aside from EGH) sometimes for days at a time?

Did I roll eyes yet? Did I?

Their bad mother?*

Ohh, have I got a tidbit for you!

Today's burning question: do you ever leave your children in the car?

I'm asking under the assumption that no one who reads this blog leaves children alone in a parked car for more than a few moments. I mean to run in a petrol station to pay for gas, dash in the post office to post a letter, or step into the pizza place to pick up your take-away order, for example.

I do.

And I always have. (Here's babycenter's poll on the subject.)

If it's warm, I leave the AC on full blast; I always have the emergency brake on and always have the car locked (but running) and have my spare key with me. Obviously all of mine are strapped in their carseats.

Now, having said all that, let me tell you about my day...

I had to take Fiver to his well child check up today. 'Well' was a misnomer as he's just cut two teeth and has caught the sniffly,snotty crap (our first illness of the child-in-school syndrome!) that the others had. He'd been miserable all day.

Anyway, due to circumstances beyond Dr. Clemson's control, they were swamped today and running behind. My appointment was at 4, I got back on my side of town (with rush hour traffic - whee!) at 6:45.

THCTD was with us and by the time we rolled through Chapin she was starving. Fiver had had FIVE shots and an oral vaccine and after much crabby screaming had finally fallen into a troubled sleep.

I knew It was too late to get home and fix supper so I decided to stop at Subway and grab EGH and THCTD subs.

I arrived in the sleepy town of Chapin and parked directly in front of the Subway (you know what those wee Subway's look like, the whole front is glass). Rather than drag THCTD and a hot, sore, sleeping infant out into the heat, I decided to leave the car running and leave them inside.

I could see the car clearly from anywhere inside but I stayed glued to the front glass, giving my order long distance to the bewildered employees.

I spotted the waddling woman eyeing my car, immediately.

She circled my car, never looked around for the mother (me), but did exhort a random passerby; a stringy old lady who whipped her husband into a frenzy. Both produced their cellphones.

Now, note that at this point, I'd been out of the car for about 3 minutes. The car was on, emergency brake on, AC on, doors locked, and I had the spare key. And I was under 20 feet away.

I innocently thought perhaps Fiver had woken and was crying, so I hurried out (leaving the Subway bint with her mouth open) passing both women. Nope, THCTD was cool and singing happily, Fiver was still dozing. I got something out of my handbag and looked around for the two women. I was going to tender explanations, maybe garner a bit of mommy sympathy.

They both had dematerialised.

By the time I got back into the subway, the police had arrived (had her lights on as well! I felt so Jesse James like!)

So there followed a lengthy explanation wherein I told her about the wait, the drive, the shots, the hunger, etc, etc ... she said I should never leave kids in the car; I pointed out the AC and that I was just a couple dozen feet away ... she said they could be abducted; I explained the car was locked and I had the spare key ... she said I should have gone through a drive through; I explained that I didn't feed my kids fast food much at all (that stunned her into silence)

Let me pause in my tale to make a statement:

I am NOT angry that these two women rang the police. Better safe than sorry, I say. I am disappointed that these two cowardly moms didn't just TALK TO ME!

I walked right by you! Why didn't you speak to me? Did I seem that imposing, edgy, desperado-who-would-nick-your-nappy-bag-like? (I was wearing my new, official, One Tough Mother t-shirt, lol)

What would YOU, blog readers, have done?

I personally would have - off the top of my head - said: "Hey, you look like you've had a day! Ya want me to stand here and keep an eye on these cuties while you grab your food?"

Even if someone is overtly abusing a child, like striking him (not spanking him), I have the ovaries to walk up to their faces and go: "Hey, bitch, you are so wrong for that. You wanna punch someone, try punching me!" (or whatever, you get my drift)

But to see two cool, peaceful, happy children in a car, witness their close by mother come and check on them, and then ring the cops, and THEN slink away is just too much.

If you feel so strongly about something then you should stand up and say so.

I have been mothering for about 5 and a half years now and I make judgement calls all the time. I will continue to do so for the next 18 or so years, minimum. Not all of them will be right, correct, or good, but I stand by them. I'm doing the best job of moming that i can do and if anyone has a problem with it, well, they can get stuffed and I'll explain it to the police, LOL!


*Apologies to Her Bad Mother!

I'll meet you at high noon in the main aisle of ToysRUs

(A two-pronged rant)

I've noticed that some mothers, as they get farther and farther away from their own experience in a particular phase of parenting, feel more and more strongly that they are experts on that segment of parenting and so are more willing to interfere with a mommy who's experiencing that phase right now.

I call this "Blue's Rule of Parental Experience Proximity". Let me explain:

I have plenty of time on various mommy/baby/infertility/TTC boards. I have had light convos, intense discussions, and outright arguments with ladies all over the world on the subject of parenting. In addition, I know moms from other boards, plus the few I know IRL.

Among them, I find the type of mom I'm talking about. Usually a mother who has kids the same age as mine is NOT liable to offer up unsolicited advice. If I'm talking about, say, potty training, most moms of toddlers/pre-schoolers give only sympathy unless I actually ASK for advice. The random one who just thrusts her opinion on people comes across as a right bitch.

Hold that thought.

I've noticed that the farther away from the trials of potty training (to use our example) some mothers are, the more willing they are to tell us current potty trainers how to do it.

The phenomenon culminates in the Grandmother. Not all Grandmothers are like this, but a tidy few are. How many Grans do you know - either your own mother/MIL or total strangers - who have absolutely no problem elbowing mom out of the way to take over or making snarky comments on how mom isn't doing something right?

Grandparents are also quick to trot out the excuses: "I have more experience than you." (so, rather than letting you find your own way and make your own mistakes, I'll just parent for you!) and "But we just love our grandkids so much." (that we are willing to ignore your wishes and take over!)

Hold onto that thought as well.

My theory is further supported by those without kids. Have you ever noticed that it's your friend or co-worker who has never had kids who thinks she's a parenting expert? How many first-time-pregnant moms-to-be have you heard spout off loads of smug wisdom on how mommying should be done? (I did it horribly before I had kids, did you? Makes me cringe to think of it.)

What's up with this?

Example #1: I just spent time with four moms. Two with kids the same age as mine, one with teenagers, and one with grown kids and grandkids. The two younger moms never once did anything to or with my kids without asking. The middle mom helped out, but caught herself before doing or allowing big things. The last mom simply did as she wished, making me have to, literally, watch her like a hawk as she parented my children as she saw fit. When I came behind her and corrected things, she rolled her eyes, sighed dramatically, and, at one point actually threw up her hands and snapped: "Fine!"

Example #2: On the way back from our recent beach trip, we stopped at a restaurant (a rare treat) and were all sat down eating. Fiver was in his carseat with his bottle (Yes, his bottle was propped. I confess it: I'm a Bottle Propper. Ring DSS. None of my breastfed children has EVER taken a bottle from me - they will from other people - and he's right on the cusp of being able to hold it himself).

Anyway, he was just playing with it as there was so much interesting Whisky Tango action (a blog for another day - hey it was Orangeburg, SC), and we were all eating happily. Suddenly a little old woman materialised at my shoulder, reached into the carseat, into my child's face, snatched the bottle, and cried, loudly: "Is the baby supposed to be getting milk?! Is he getting any?! The bottle's slipped!"

Now, my 5-month-old Fiver weighs 22lbs. He's in the 95th percentile for height and weight. All of my children are rosy-cheeked, robust, and smiling (or were at that second ... until she showed up. Then they were transfixed, forks halfway to their mouths, staring in wonder, as was the entire restaurant). He does not look as if he misses any meals.

When I put my hand on her arm and murmured that he was fine, really, she laughed and said those magic words: "You know how us Grandmas are!"

Erm, maddening? Meddling?

Example #3 (and it's a biggie): There's this lady on one of my boards to whom I do not speak. We had a falling out one day (BTW, she is probably unaware of my ire, so smug is she in her opinion) over parenting. We were discussing public school's policies regarding children with food allergies.

My opinion is that schools should go to reasonable lengths to insure the safety of kids with food allergies: separate eating area, no home-made treats brought to class, etc. I do NOT think , for example, that schools should disallow anyone bringing homemade lunches for their own consumption. This is a violation of the rights of the hundreds of other kids who attend that school. What's next? Banning any and all eating of peanut containing products at the homes of teachers, staff, and other students? (Because, after all, someone could have peanut butter on his fingers when he arrives at class.) Do we need to forbid all other allergens as well? Wheat? Eggs? Where does it end?
These children have to survive in the real world. Forcing their school environment to conform so severely to their needs that it ignores everyone else's rights is not helping them. The real world will not do this for them.

The mom on the board with whom I butted heads has a grandchild with peanut allergies and was outraged at my opinion. She implied that she loved her grandchild more than I loved my children because she was more than willing to stomp on the rights of others on her grandchild's behalf and I was not.

Uhm, no, honey. Mommy Rule #1: do not ever, ever, ever suggest that you are a better parent or love your kids more because you parent them reasonably differently. I breastfeed, you don't: I'm a better mom? NO. You co-sleep, I don't: you love your kids more? NO. My oldest is 5 and yours is 35 so you're a better mother by default? Not necessarily.

Is it just that this woman is obnoxious, or is it Blue's Rule of Parenting Experience Proximity? Or is it just me?

What's your opinion on others parenting your kids without asking (or offering unsolicited opinions thereon)? Is it ASSvice/interference if it comes from a stranger/childless friend/co-worker but fine from aunts/moms/grands? Should someone with a vested interest in the child (like grandma) be allowed to parent a child with disregard to the mother's wishes and/or without her request (for instance, discipline, or allow mom-forbidden things) if she, in her superior experience thinks it's best?

Sound off moms and grandmoms!

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Grammar Gripe

Having an altogether crappy week/day (I thought the above design was apropo) so I thought I'd vent randomly about grammar. If you want to see a real pro at work on this subject, be sure you check out Mrs. Chili's blog for Grammar Wednesday.

On with the vent:

When I was young, I always thought that the folks who used incorrect grammar or wrote poorly were the unfortunate dregs of society.

They - the folks who couldn't distinguish 'there', 'their', and 'they're' and thought that 'irregardless' was a word and 'nauseous' meant to feel ill, poor lambs (I thought ), were the uneducated, the offspring of semi-illiterates, perhaps even the mentally challenged.

I was wrong.

Grammar and spelling slashers are all around us. People who own businesses, who are professionals (even teachers!), who went to school (and somehow graduated), use hideously incorrect grammar all the time. Don't even get me started on some of the women on my various infertility/TTC/mommy/baby boards (if you're on any of these, you know the people I mean).

Let's randomly pick popular music of which to make an example. Here's a snippet of lyrics from a song on the Robots soundtrack:

Girl I want it you got it
Your body’s like a narcotic
The thought is auto-erotic*

Uhm, no. The thought of her body is erotic. Autoeroticism is the derivation of pleasure without an outside source. Basically the songwriter used the word because he thought it sounded cooler than erotic. He has no idea what it means, or how stupid it makes him look.

(Another example of this is folks who say: "Blase', blase'," to mean "You are nattering on and on." Clearly, they mean: "Blah, blah," but one of them, at some point, heard the word 'blase'' (which means 'disinterested' or 'apathetic'), had NO idea what it meant but thought it sounded hip, and so transmogrified the two into one statement of how laughable a person can be.)

-----

Another example from music:

I love the band Nickelback. LOVE them. They rock. I adore the music and the lyrics are great, but there is one song that I physically am unable to listen to. Here are the first two stanzas:

Believe it or not everyone
Have things that they hide
Believe it or not everyone
Keep most things inside

Believe it or not everyone
Believe in something above
Believe it or not everyone
Need to feel loved**

WTF? Does the music industry not have editor type persons? Do they not have people who advise them on what things to NOT do so as to avoid looking like complete fools?

-----

And just for contrast; this is quoted verbatim from a list that I'm on:

I am looking a particular van. I am not sure wha the make and model but I know UPS uses them. Their meduim size. I am considering one for my business

(A person replies to her, then:)

That's probably the one I talking about! Thanks for the heads up.... do they sell them used? If so what's in your opinion a reasonable price to pay rather new or used? I want a nice clean decent one to carry my inventory in for my business.

(He replies again. She responds:)

Yeap that's the one LOL!I already check the net GEEZ guess I'll have to wait until I the lottery for one of those LOL!

What is her business, I wonder? (Aside from making me wince.)

-----

Here's another gem; again, verbatim:

I have went thru my Dresser and Closet (spring cleaning) and have a bag FULL of Ladies Plus Size Clothes ( size range 24 thru 28)..There are Pants...Skirts...Dresses (lounge type)and Shirts...All are in Good Shape and can be Wore to Work

Of course, this speech pattern ('have went through' and 'can be wore') is typical of Standard Southern White Trash (this one is primo whisky tango, from Pelion, the butthole of the universe.). But what's up with the ellipses? Are commas too ... common? Or perhaps unfathomable? Why be arsed to learn punctuation when you can simply choose one that you fancy and use it for every application? While we're At It ... someone Explain to Me ... the random Capitalization ...

Where does this one work? Who hires these people? Are they raising children to speak and write like this? Is there an unusually high suicide rate for language arts teachers in Lexington?

I just purchased this button for my Evil Genius Husband to wear to school (I also comes in t-shirt form). What do you think?

-----

(Obligatory link litter:)

More tees for teachers here, shirts, mugs, buttons and stickers for those of us living in the Southeast (no I don't have a shirt that says "Pelion, butthole of the universe", but I should), and check out our NEW maternity cut t-shirts!

PS: for those of you still awaiting you free goodies that i promised ... what was it, last year? *sigh* I have finally gotten them all wrapped and posted! Yay!

I am also getting really addicted to giving stuff away, so look for another round of freebies to my peeps here soon.

PPS: post already edited for ... a grammar error! *rolls eyes* There are probably ten more.

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*copyright Fatboy Slim, lyrics from Wonderful Night, from the Robots soundtrack.
**copyright Nickelback, lyrics from Believe it or Not, from the album The Long Road.

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Day two in Hell

Apologies right up front. This is one big ol' whine at 4:30am (Friday). Feel free to give it a miss.

Well this damned yeast is kicking my bountiful arse. As of this morning (1am, whee!) Fiver latching on was so painful I had to keep myself from yelling out and waking EGH. I can't go on like this. I have an unusually high threshold for pain and I was crying after a few minutes. I ended up having to unlatch him - something that has never happened; usually there's an initial stabbing/burning pain then I 'get used to it'. Not this time. He's getting more blood than milk from the left side.

I've just taken a load of my pain meds to see if I can make it through nursing the other side. I'll go out to the Wal Mart today when EGH gets home and get one of those cheapo manual breast pumps. I've used them before and they work well for me and I'll be DAMNED if I'm going to stop breastfeeding. I don't mind tossing in a little formula until we get over this and I absolutely cannot keep eating pain meds all day just to be able to feed.

I feel so bad. I'm just depressed in general with the daunting task of losing weight. It's 100% my own fault, of course, that I have it to lose in the first place, but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with. All the post-partum swelling doesn't help, making me gross and awkward like I was still pregnant. I also have no energy. I try to get stuff done and get so tired. I suppose all the Percocet isn't helping that. Bah.

I'm feeling and looking old, fat, and tired.

And since I've dragged you down into this sudden pity party, let me go ahead and say that all this crap makes me feel bad for EGH, too. Nothing like having an in-pain, half-doped, old, fat, tired, and crabby wife wandering about and complaining. Oh glee.

To top it all off, he's having enough trouble at work with a few fellow teachers (who deserve the moniker that starts with a 'B' and ends with 'itches', but I'll be polite and not say that here *ahem*). These cows are of the sort (and I know all of us have worked with this type before) who are just never satisfied. They don't want to do any work but they don't want anyone else to be recognized or praised. They gossip and are nosey. They fight every policy change by undermining the administration, talking behind the Principal's back, going to the district office, yet they never present viable alternate suggestions for solving problems. All they do is stir the pot, stir the pot, bitch, gripe, gossip, and moan.

I hate women like this. HATE them.

Ya know, if you don't agree with something, then stand up and say so. Come up with a better idea on how to do things. Voice your concerns to everyone. Follow the chain of command. Do your freakin' job.

How hard is this?

If you're not happy with yourself, unfulfilled at home, or whatever, then too bad. This is your job. Suck it up, pull on your big girl underpants and freakin' deal with it. I say this almost every day: these women better be damned thankful that it's the sweet, polite, pushover of an Evil Genius that they have to deal with and not me.

Especially me with thrush.

(This is me. This is me with thrush. Be afraid. Be very afraid)
(How's that for mixing catchphrases?)
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PS: thanks everyone for reading this drivel. Sometimes I feel like you guys are the only ones keeping me sane.

Big enough to have my own gravity!

What a monumental waste of time and money.

Seriously.

I'm talking about my OB appointment yesterday.

I mean, really! I'm 31 weeks pregnant with my fifth child. I've had totally uneventful pregnancies (up until time to get the baby out, that is) so why do I need to go in to be checked every month? I have to drive an hour one way with all four of my small children plus I'm paying a load of money for experiences like this:

I was supposed to see Dr. S. (I carefully schedule my appointments for when the two doctors whom I dislike are NOT there.) Well, I arrived, wee'd in a cup, got weighed, and herded The Brood into an exam room. Dr. S bounced in ... and his pager went off.

Dang those women who actually go into labour.

So there I was, left in a tiny exam room with four bored children, petrified of which doctor I'd be seeing since Dr. S was indisposed.

I waited tensely, eyeing the door, and keeping up a steady murmur of "don't touch that, sit down, stop it." The nurse came in and insisted that she try to find Fiver's heartbeat. I assured her that he was kicking me right that second and I was perfectly content to wait. She insisted. I obligingly (if a bit exasperatedly) laid back on the table while she tentatively poked the doppler around. Nothing. She dissappeared with an apologetic smile.

A few minutes later the door swings open and, lo and behold, Sweet Mother of Stan Lee, it's Dr. You're Too Fat, my second least favourite OB in the solar system.

Bloody brilliant.

He also had a female with him - I thought she was his nurse but she turned out to be a student. He never asked me if I minded a student (I have no probs with students but I don't like women touching me) and let her conduct the dopplering while he *tsk*tsk-ed* over my weight gain in the last 6 weeks (9lbs); prophesied horrible difficulties with the rest of my pregnancy if I didn't stop eating (I know how much I've gained - I always gain the same amount); admonished me to excercise (I can't because of my knee); insisted on measuring my fundal height, making a huge deal about not being unable to find the top of my uterus (because I'm such a cow); then smirked about my measuring too large (I always measure about 2 weeks ahead).

Finally I got to sit up (resisting the urge to shove the female student away from me - she was mashing and manipulating my abdomen like she was trying to perform an external cephalic version) and asked the only question I had: I've been having a sharp, arthritis-y pain in my fingers. They are NOT swollen, just painful, and only on the underside of the middle three.

To what did he attribute it? You guessed it: fluid build-up because of my 'excessive' weight gain and surely my baby will have six limbs like a Spider-Man clone and the polar ice caps will melt because of it.

Then he rushed me out of the room.

Grrrrrrr!

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And on a less crabby note, let me share our new Valentine's day t-shirt designs with you. Some of them are pretty funny anti-Valentine's types if you are down with love this year.

Angry

OK, 'angry' doesn't really cover it. 'Seething with rage' might suffice.

It's taken 24 hours (edit: and three rewrites now) for me to calm down enough to compose this.

So. I have been obliged recently to attend gatherings with my children. At these gatherings is also in attendance a person with her child. This child is usually ill. The last three times we met there he was ill. And I'm not talking about a sniffle. I mean snot dripping from his nose / wet, hacking cough / vomiting.

Now kids get sick. This I understand. But this child is always there sick. And he is not only brought there while he is ill - a place where his people know my four small children will be, plus two other small children, one of whom is under one year - but he is allowed free reign. He is allowed to roam about, touching the other children, drinking from other's cups, handling and mouthing all the toys.

I don't know what everyone else does - it's their business, I don't care - but I keep my kids home when they are ill! Mine do NOT go out of my home until they are completely well.

I have even given special consideration to this very child, keeping myself - if I'm ill - or my children home because this child has a susceptibility to respiratory bugs! And yet he is dragged out when unwell and thrust into the midst of my children (and two others) heedlessly.

Well, not any more.

My children are almost never sick. My oldest, Boy, has been ill maybe eight times in his life. And that's everything - sniffles, colds, one stomach virus. And my kids are not cloistered in this house all the time. We go to the Wal Marts, to the park, to my OB's office, the pediatrician (where we actually sit in the sick child room because it's larger).

The entire brood has been very ill THREE times since October. Each time exhibiting symptoms 24-72 hours after exposure to this child who was ill.

Last time it was coughing, snotting, fevers. Days and days of four children feeling so bad they didn't stir from the couch. Now it's violent vomiting. Evil Genius Husband I have been up all night; changing sheets; soothing frightened, trembling, weak babies; scrubbing up puke.

That's when I wasn't hanging over the toilet myself.

Oh, yeah. This child is thoughtlessly brought around me, the chick who's almost eight months pregnant.

(EDIT: tonight we were up cleaning diarrhoea. O joy. None of us has slept in 3 days.)

Well it ends here. My children will no longer attend gatherings while that child is there, nor go where he is. If we are there and he is brought to the same location, I and my kids will immediately leave.

I hate to go to this extreme, but I cannot have this keep happening, and I cannot come up with anything else to do. Now I just have to figure out how to express my concerns and inform the person who holds these gatherings as he means a great deal to me and my children and I don't want to hurt his feelings.

I'm thinking of availing myself of the help and advice of the other two mothers who's children are exposed.

I want to stress that this has nothing watever to do with the child per se. He can't help being ill (one assumes) but if he is to be brought there while contagious, with absolutely no regard to my or my children's health, then we shall simply have to stay away.

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Oh, before anyone points this out: yes, I am aware that I'm in for a rude awakening when Boy goes to school next year. I'm sure many parents send their kids to school sick. I also know that simple, normal exposure in a large group of kids will result in more illness. I'm not entirely stupid. This vector, however, I can control ... and I intend to.