I Really Hate to Complain But.....

It's Monday and I'm blogging.

Amazing, isn't it?

I usually clean pretty well on Monday, but I figured, hey, the mess doesn't bother the kids and I could learn to live with it for a week since the one person I keep the house clean for won't be here all week.

Yes, that's right. The husband will be gone all week.

That poor, poor man. His job. It does suck. His boss. He does hate him. His hours. They are long.

But he's not going on a business trip. Oh no.

He's going to Colorado skiing with a friend.

Because, how did he put it? He'd go cccrrraaazzzyy if he didn't get away from here.

And by here he meant HERE. Our house. Our family.

You know, because we drive him so fricking crazy for those twenty or thirty minutes he actually sees any of us in a day.

He deserves it, really, because he works so hard to make money so that WE can live in a nice home in a nice neighborhood and eat. Oh. My. Gawd. The nerve of us to do all the eating that we do. And we play, play, play all day. There is much laughing and happiness, why shoot, our every day is nothing but lazy, delightful vacation days because what I do cannot be considered work. NO. How so very lucky I am to watch television and go shopping every day! I am living the life of Riley. Oh, yes I am.

That's two vacations in two months, you know, if you're keeping track.

And that's seven vacations to my zero. Oh, but I forget. My whole life is a vacation.

I totally get that my husband hates his job and wants some time away. Boy, do I get that. I want him to have that time away, really, because he does deserve it because he does work in a crappy job he hates to keep a roof over our heads. I am not, though, understanding why he cannot eat dinner with us, like, ever, because his schedule is so full, but he can suddenly take a weeks vacation. Twice. And how, also, his friend's pregnant wife is going with them, gonna just hang out and rest while they ski, but I wasn't even invited. Sure, I don't ski, but damn, I sure can rest.

I did not complain when he forgot to arrange my fortieth birthday party.

I did not complain when he bought items for the house for MY birthday.

I did not complain when he did not buy me a Christmas gift.

I did not complain when he did not even acknowledge Valentine's Day.

I did not even complain when he told me he was going on this ski trip.

But I am complaining about not getting the respect I deserve from him.

I blame his mother.

Really.

She was not stable and in the end didn't even raise him. He had no role model to show him what a mother does. His dad raised him alone and worked two jobs to do so. He was never around. The husband became a latch-key kid at nine and while that made him a complete whiz at laundry and sandwich making, it did not show him how a dad actually deals with his children. For this, I am sad for him.

As I have gained more tenure in my mothering career, I have gotten better at it. I know I am a better mother than my MIL. I can deal with my three kids more easily than I dealt with my one kid. It took some time but I have learned not to sweat the small stuff. Kids make messes. They act strange in public. They need their butts wiped. Not my idea of a vacation, but I can deal with it. I like it even. Yes, it's my life, but it's also my job. I work at it. It's not sugar and candy every day. I'd like a vacation from it also. It's hard to work 24/7/365 and get no respect. Or a break. Or a little help.

The husband should get that.

And for that, I am complaining.

Facebook Happens

I guess Thursday will just be my regular blogging day from now on. Seriously. I don't mean to go a week between posts, it just happens. Life just happens. And in my life, along with the cleaning, cooking, shuttling, and child-rearing, Facebook happens.

Facebook sucks a good bit of what little free time I have. I have tried to give it up, but I really do need to know what all 92 of my friends are doing every day and I just know they are waiting on the edge of their seats for my latest updates. Just nod and agree with me.

As of today, I have been on Facebook for a whole year. I created my account at the invitation of a friend under the ruse or COME SEE MY AWESOME PHOTOS!! And being the nosy ass person that I am, I signed up JUST TO SEE THOSE PHOTOS. Really. I mean, what was Facebook if not another My Space and, geez louise, I am wwaayy too old for My Space.

But then I checked it again a week later because I got an email, MORE PHOTOS!, and I had some friend requests. Me? Friend requests? Who doesn't want to be requested to be another's friend? So I accepted and began keeping in daily touch with high school/college friends I hadn't seen in years. YEARS! I didn't know what they did those twenty years since we'd seen one another, but I instantly knew what they had for breakfast most mornings.

And that was it. I was hooked.

But here I am, a year later, and I'm wondering if there is a Facebook for Dummies book I can check out from the library.

Is there a Facebook etiquette book out there? Because I need to know the following:

1. Applications. What's up with those? I liked My Little Green Patch last spring when I had six friends and could click my new plants every day within three minutes. But I currently have thirty-two plants waiting for me and that might take me, well, forever to add so they just sit there mocking me in the upper right corner every time I log on. What happens if I don't accept them? Does a notification shoot back to the giver saying ANDRIA DOES NOT WANT YOUR PLANT! SHE IS A BAD FRIEND!? Am I bad person because I don't want to throw some Mardi Gras beads? At my next job interview will they be able to find out which 80's movie defines me? To apply or not to apply? That is the question.

2. Memes. Now, ya'll know I love a good meme. I mean, why do I blog if not to talk about myself some more? No one can accuse me of having low self-esteem. But I do know some people hate them with every fiber of their being so to tag or not to tag? If I don't tag I feel like I'm letting all my friends think that I don't really want to know 25 thing about them, but if I tag, are they going to be mad because they have another request in their corner? I do have to confess. If someone else gets tagged and I don't, I do wonder, does this person not like me anymore? Did I offend? Okay. Maybe a little self-esteem issue.

3. Friend requests. Let's just start by saying I have not friended anyone I didn't want to friend. I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea here. I think it's cool if you read my blog and you want to friend me. I'll accept your friend request. If you turn out to be a weirdo, I'll just defriend you. I like that I have new friends now that I wouldn't have without FB. What confuses me, though, is people I barely knew years and years ago, some of whom were downright mean to me, who send me a friend request. WTH? Now, maybe if they added something like, HEY, I KNOW I TREATED YOU LIKE CRAP IN JUNIOR HIGH, I'M SORRY, LET'S BE FRIENDS., then maybe, but an anonymous friend request to add to three hundred others? That kinda reeks of a popularity contest to me. Does whoever have the most friends win? But then how do I look if everyone else I went to school with is friending that person and I'm the lone hold out? Does that make me a b*tch? Which brings me to...

4. Friend suggestions. WHAT? Okay, I can see where this might be helpful to someone who hasn't noticed the search box at the top, but seriously, can I just decide for myself if I want to friend someone? I don't know what to do about the friend suggestion. If I don't want to be friends with the suggested one, I can ignore it sure, but doesn't the friend who sent it to me know I didn't take her suggestion? Does that just say HEY, WHY THE HECK DOES SHE THINK I'D BE FRIENDS WITH HER? GAWD. SHE MUST BE OUT OF HER MIND. I SHALL IGNORE THIS BECAUSE HER SUGGESTION IS LAME! And then do those friends talk about me behind my back on the chat and wonder why I didn't friend? I said I didn't have any self-esteem issues. Shush.

5. Games I just want to add here that Word Twist, Scavenger Hunt, and Hatchlings are a huge time suck and I want to defriend whoever invited me to play in the first place. Not really. But please. Do not invite me to play any different games. I'm stepping away from Parking Wars. I don't care how much fun that looks. But if you want to try and beat me at Word Twist, bring it on.

Are you on Facebook? Are you as confused as I am or am I just old for this?

Excuse while I update my status.....

Take This Job.....

Has it been a whole week since I last posted?

Wow. I'm getting lazy with this blogging thing.

You say I didn't post a thing about Adam's birthday and his party? I didn't post his four year update? And it's February? Man. Poor Middle.

There just doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day to get all the things I need done. I remember my mom saying the exact same thing to her friends on her avocado colored corded phone staked to the kitchen wall and piping in "Not enough hours? Too many hours! School is sooo long and it takes forever to get to summer vacation! Wah. I am soooo bored!" before she gave me the don't-make-me-hang-up-and-deal-with-you stare and said I'd think differently one day.

Yes, Mom. You were right. You have always been right. You are actually not the stupidest person to ever live. And you were right not to wear a bikini to the pool that summer even though I said you were uncool. In hindsight, Stephanie's mom must have been having some sort of mid-life crisis and that was kinda gross. Thank you.

Anyway...

I am busy.

Once upon a time my husband worked ten hours a day and returned before dinner where I would do a little Elaine dance hearing the garage door arise and be waiting at the door to tag team parent my one and only loud and messy child.

Now my husband works fourteen hours a day, leaves me to tackle dinnertime alone with three kids and returns most nights well after baths have been given and at least two kids have been wrestled to bed. His job sucks. His boss hates him. Brown-nosing co-workers dump on him. But he can't find anything else. No one's hiring and instead firing. Even his own company will be laying off next month and he's in fear that if his boss gets to choose, he'll be the first canned. So he works. And works. And works. He gets no overtime. No respect. Just the hope that he'll have a job, albeit one that causes him daily misery.

Oh, and did I mention our mortgage went up six hundred bucks? We are some of the lucky few who get to pay extra taxes. I think I heard Obama laughing when I wondered about my own stimulus check.

I try not to complain. I listen to my husband's tales of the woeful work world and pat his back or give him a hug and tell him it's no big deal that he hasn't eaten dinner with us in three weeks. That, no, I won't spend any money this week. Sure, we can cancel Valentine's Day, the kids know we love them, they don't need a special day to tell them that. I guess I can quit buying the organic milk. I mean, we didn't drink organic milk and we're fine, right?

But, damn, I'm tired.

If it's here at home, I do it. If it's at school, I do it. If it needs purchased, I get it. And, oh boy, why were all my kids born six weeks apart? The party planning is all mine. If it weren't for me their big days would be hopelessly forgotten as just another day and, dang, we can't have that! So I babysit every other Friday so my kids can feel special on their one and only very own day.

And that's okay, because that's my job. But, man, sometimes my job kinda sucks too. I work long hours. I rarely get the respect I deserve. And my co-worker dumps on me. A lot. And he doesn't even realize it. And my employees, they're pretty smart, but they require a lot of hand-holding and they just don't get things the first time I teach them so that throws a wrench into our facility much of the time. You know, it all might be grounds for dismissal, but they are so dern cute I want to keep them around, so I pick up the slack. What else can I do?

But I am tired.

And hopelessly lacking free time these days.

But until I find more....



The party was a success! Even if he was embarrassed while they sang to him.



Mmm...cupcake cake. Messy, but so delicious.



And who wouldn't want to spend their birthday at the zoo?



Or Waffle House?

One birthday down, two more to go. Then maybe I can rest.

Another Reason I Love Facebook

The doorbell rang yesterday afternoon.

The kids thought it was their friends coming to play, but it wasn't.

The lady in the mail truck brought a package.

My kids LOVE when packages come. It doesn't matter who it's addressed to, they always think it's something for them. There was much jumping and clapping and choruses of open-it-faster-Mom. It's times like those I wish I was on a reality show with cameras in every nook and cranny because it's hard to hold a video camera AND open a tightly sealed box.

Was it toys? Books? The four hundred dollar Lego Death Star, just because?

No.

It was 150 candy bars from Mommy's old high school-now-Facebook friend.



Thank you Mail Lady for bringing them right before dinner.

I'm not one to turn down a gift or a good time. So we had candy bars. Before dinner. And they were good.



Go ahead boys. Keep posing. I just need a few more seconds to reach the rest of your candy.

Mommy's Facebook friend works for a natural and organic foods company. Last month one food supplier had all their products taken off the shelves because their spokesperson died and I guess they figured no one wanted to buy food with a dead person on the label no matter how much money that poor dead person donated to charity from all his profits. I don't know exactly what Mommy's Facebook friend does at her company, but when products get trashed, they go directly back to her. In boxes. On her front porch. A nice little perk I think.

I always knew MFF would give you the shirt off her back.

Or the chocolate from her porch.

Mmmmm.

Sure beats salad dressing.