fourfortytwoam.com

I would like to file a complaint with the manager of this establishment. This place is trashed. You can’t take two steps without treading upon something that either squeaks, screams or breaks into a huge splinter in the bottom of your foot. There are obstacles in all the main fire exits as well as a continually operating hose right into the kitchen area…a HUGE slip hazard. I caught some rather short, yet very sneaky person going through my wallet mumbling something about “looking for MY monies.” There is a taller, blond person trying to do “God’s work,” which apparently entails dipping oneself in a communal pool of nasty water and kicking soccer balls at the windows of this establishment. Some joker is teaching dance class with the world’s loudest, most annoying set of drums as “music”. The dog can’t go outside without eating grass and returning to vomit profusely on the few spots of bare floor. Right now, there is a huge argument going on between a couple over who has current possession of a T-Rex. And what is that smell coming from the laundry area? I would investigate it myself, but the last time I did, I found a two year old “science experiment.” I will forward you a copy of the bio hazard disposal bill, by the way. Some skinny, 40ish male is standing in the hallway asking when his “needs, other than 2 hours a day at the gym, 40 hours a week on soccer, and 6 hours a week on his tan” will be met. There are no less than 50 dead caterpillars in bug catchers spread across the outside seating area. Your employees are completely unable to function on their own accord, totally lacking in common sense and the ability to make good choices. When left to their own devices, they choose to swing from the blind cords and perform acrobatics on and off of the furniture. When asked or directed what to do, they stare blankly back at me and say, “Huh?”  There are muffled shouts of “Heeeeelp!  Stuck!” every 15 minutes coming from various locations in the common living area.  Someone reported possible poaching in the turtle enclosure, however I took the liberty of passing that complaint along to Animal Services.

In closing, I would like to know what  can be done about this factory of insanity you are running.  I for one am disgusted and look forward to hearing your plan of action.

Thank you,

From me

(PS.  Why does youe entire staff insist on calling me “Mommy”?  I have a name, you know.  True, I can’t remember what it is, but I know I have one.)

I have a few, a few questions to ponder…Why, when everything goes bad or is crappy it is TOTALLY MY fault, yet when things turn out good or better than expected or are going great, it is BECAUSE of SOMEONE else? (Note to Fernando: I am not actually yelling those words, only strongly emphasizing them.) Riddle me that, Batman.
Oh, here’s a good one! When I tell a funny story about someone, with the intention to pass along the humor of the story, why do I get yelled at for hurting someone’s feelings and trying to embarrass them? Yet, when I am being thrown under an oversized double decker bus (fully loaded with passengers and luggage) at 85 miles an hour and get my little feelings hurt, am I told to “grow up!” or “get thicker skin!” Or “you are soooo dramatic, Mandy!” Another riddle from the Riddler to the Batman.

I think I have a bunch more of these, I just can’t remember them at the moment. My brain is overcrowded with thoughts of things I can actually answer realistically and rationally.

Okay, I admit it. I am wandering around aimlessly looking for something interesting to do. Yes, this is partially in avoidance of the cleaning I could be doing while everyone is asleep, but I am way bored with dishes, laundry, etc… I would vacuum, but I am confident that would awaken the masses, so that’s out. And, it isn’t very interesting or dare I say it, “fun”. No offense to my friends, but Facebook is boring and not really fun either. “Oh, look, Madeline has pulled her pants out of her ass 30 times tonight!” Boooooorrrrring. (Yes, that is a direct quote from my kids.)
I should get credit for having the cajones to type this, because it is sure to prompt a response from Jamie, who would have a list of things for me to do. And, as a preemptive strike, I say “Shut it, soccer boy.” I, of course, say that with love.
So, I need someone to talk to. By this, I mean someone not in the 500th minute of the story of how the eraser ended up her classmate’s nose (although I do appreciate the “TOTALLY COOL” experience of said witness’s view during the event, and her desire to share it with me). Maybe a conversation with someone I didn’t have to say, “Hey! Pencils are for PAPER ONLY!” Or someone I didn’t have to follow around saying, “No ride doggie!!!” I am grateful for those moments, and cherish them, truly. But, Dear GOd, where are the adults??? Or, even better, the people who are legally, by age, adults, yet haven’t been notified of this yet?
I am bored…

I have three wonderful daughters and one amazing son! I am very blessed! I always wanted a son or two…but I just realized the downside of having a son. I have this wonderful, sweet, smart, kind, caring little boy full of all kinds of potential. So now I can no longer end sentences or conversations with “I don’t know. Men just totally suck!”

Hey – wouldn’t it be really cool if there was some ridiculous picture of a guy with his pants falling down, plumber style, while stuck to theunderneath of a car?  Or something crazy like that?  Wish I had one of those pics!  A REAL reason to study hard, my friends:)

All of my life, and I do mean ALL of my life I wanted to get married to the “man of my dreams” and have kids with him.  (On a personal note, I did that, but some kinks were thrown in that little ideal first and WHOA!  there goes another thrown kink!)  For most of my life, up until the age of 16 1/2, I wanted to also be a pediatrician.  I was young – maybe 5, when I started doctoring baby dolls wounds.  I used to create  scenarios in my head of their issues, illnesses and injuries and then treat them accordingly.  Some times, I was very successful, other times, not so much.  My imaginary husband was named Bill.  He passed away several years ago after a horrible argument.  Note: I am still here and he is NOT.  Anyway, I was a world renowned pediatrician (with occasional spelling issues), several dogs, a wonderful husband and at times, 26 children.  As I got older, the amount of children Bill and I had decreased significantly, and the issues I faced at my imaginary pediatric ER increased in technicality.  As I got a little older, I started to work with real kids with real issues.  I was a tutor in fourth grade for several dyslexic children.  I visited a school for hearing impaired children.  I did work studies, under the actual guidance of my pediatrician – a man I admire to this day.  Then, at 16 1/2, roughly when you begin to make college choices, my dad filled me in on some secrets he had been told.  For example, the divorce rate (at the time) was 3x the national average of other jobs – equal only to the divorce rate of airline pilots.  THis was significant to me as two of my friends were going through divorces in their own homes – dads were Delta pilots.  Then, it REALLY hit home when I went to intern one day at my pediatrician’s office and found out HE was getting divorced.  That was it for me!  No more desire to be a pediatrician! I didn’t want to get divorced from the man of my dreams!!!!  (Seriously, a totally true story.)

But back to the original point:  I made it to 16 1/2 wanting to be a pediatrician because I was assured there was very little geometry involved.  I asked.  Many people.  Often.  I always hated math.  I mean, HATED math.  My mind doesn’t work best in “absolutes.”  Why is the answer “54”?  “56” seems like a great number and it is so close to “54.”  (BTW, my husband and children should be thanking God right now that my mind doesn’t work best in absolutes.  Just a little side note.)  Algebra sucked, but eventually sank in and to be honest, when people said “you will need this later in life,” I saw how that might be possible.  When my geometry teacher said, “you will need this later in life,” I went on a mission to make sure I wouldn’t.  (This mission applied to three subjects in my life: geometry, trigonometry, and physics.  Again, I don’t work in absolutes.)  I hated geometry soooo much, I began asking EVERYONE, including guidance counselors, hair stylists, mechanics, pediatricians, EVERYONE with a job if they had to use geometry on a regular basis and for what.  Turns out, you don’t need to compute the area of a yard you are sodding in order to be a pediatrician.  You call a lawn service.  That made me so happy!  (It didn’t hurt that it also didn’t matter what E=, cause in a pediatricians world, all you need to know it the kid hit the corner of the table with his head REALLY hard and is now bleeding profusely. I don’t need to compute the engery, time or speed at which he hit the table!  Was exhilarating for me!)

Anyway, the divorce rate shut me down on being a pediatrician.  I went with things more my style.  Psychology.  (Insert smart ass comment here, anyone who knows me.  But, at least there are very few absolutes.)  Now, I still had to study geometry, trigo frickin nometry and rat ass physics, but I did study.  A lot.  And, really hard.  HATED it, but I did it because I didn’t want a big fat “F.”  Actually, I couldn’t even accept a big fat “C,” so I really studied hard.  (We are getting to my point here…)  And, thank God I did.  No, I don’t use geometry in my daily life.  The last time I sodded my yard, I called the company and said “I need sod.”  He said “How much?”  I said “I have no clue.”  He said to measure and call him back.  I measured, he delivered the amount I needed.  I did not one bit of area computation 🙂  But I got a big ol’ kick in the head when my 11 year old showed up with less than good grades in geometry.  Now, I have to help her.

I must say, I nearly vomitted, called my math wizard father and said “Help!”  To be honest, I did call my math wizard father, read him a description of what she was supposed to understand, and then say to him – literally – “What the fuck????  I don’t even know what this means!!!!!  How the hell am I supposed to help her???”  When he stopped laughing, he said, “I don’t know, but you are going to have to find a way.”  I took a deep breath, pulled my boots up (figuratively), and online researched geometry until I realized I was actually starting to remember, maybe even understand some aspects of it.  NOw, the really good news, I mean really, really good news is the 11 year old had the concepts down, she  just wasn’t organizing her computations well and had a bit of a struggle with following written directions.  Phew.  She worked very hard, and is now doing well.  I am grateful for what i learned.  1. I can do 5th grade geometry 🙂  2.  If I hadn’t studied as ridiculously hard as I did when I was in 5th grade, and again in college,  I would not have been able to help the child do her homework.  3.  I need to find my personal journal soon, otherwise, I am going to be a rambling blog mess.  4.  I still hate geometry.  5.  Kids connect with you when you tell the truth – geometry was hard for me, and I told her that.  6.  You truly never know the value of something you learn in the moment you learn it.  7.  Always, always work hard.  What you are doing or studying at this moment might not seem important, but I am truly, truly grateful I tried when I was 11 and again in college to understand something I hated – it brought me closer to my 11 year old.  I was able to shoe her the mistakes I used to make, I was able to help her be better/do better than I did.  Isn’t that the point of life???

I just got a hostile “I can’t be bothered to talk right now!” response to a courtesy phone call I made while someone was on a long trip in the car.  Hello?!?! I have better things to be doing than calling, buddy! And, if we want to go through the list of things I can’t be bothered with…REALLY???  It was a frickin’ courtesy phone call. I truly do have other things to be doing, receiving hostility for a COURTESY call wasn’t one of them.

Where has basic respect gone???  Are manners lost in this world???  Is everyone self obsessed???  I am tired, my feelings are hurt, and I am offended so I will analyze this tomorrow.  (Okay, irony cracks me up!!!)

I must take a moment to publicly thank my kids’ guardian angels, specifically today those of my 2 1/2 year old. How that fit pitching, table kicking, chair knocking backwards on to a hardwood floor child did not split the back of her head open or break an arm is truly a miracle, a miracle I am deeply grateful for today. If I could, I would throw a massive party for all four of the kids’ guardian angels, they work very, very hard with lots of overtime and little reward!!! I am truly, truly grateful! And, I am working on and with the 2 1/2 year old. Lesson learned: build padded cell for the little fit pitcher ASAP.

PS: Does anyone know if this terrible two thing goes away magically at 3, kinda like colic magically disappears at 3 months old? Ya know what, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.

I am a “fun junkie.” I am sure everyone likes to have fun, everyone likes to laugh, but it is my “big thing.” I have been thinking about it a lot lately in the context of how “fun” changes over your lifetime. When I was 8, my friend Lori and I could send ourselves into total fits of giggles just by saying a phrase (which I currently can’t recall, but it will come to me). Those fits of giggles were THE BEST THING in the world! Whatever the phrase was (it is on the tip of my tongue), we would say over and over and over just causing the most hysterical 8 year old girl laughter you could imagine and it was PURE FUN!!!
In my teen years, I had a friend who shall remain nameless, but just about anything he said would crack me right up. He wasn’t a comedian per se, but he was the person you always wanted to sit next to in class. He had some of the best responses to things and an amazingly quick analysis of reality and it just caused 8 year old girl hysterics for me.
In my 20s, I was surrounded by funny people, some who were literally paid for it, but I also branched out into my own sense of fun. One night, while on a double date, the other girl and I started bonding. The four of us had been to dinner and then went to play Miniature Golf (it is important to keep the “miniature golf” description in mind, as we were NOT at the Master’s Tournament in Augusta, but playing “Pirate’s Cove Golf”). A few drinks had been had by all and “tee time” was roughly 9:00pm. As the other girl and I began our game, we were faced with the reality that we sucked. Now, there might be reasonable explanations for this – the wearing of heels, the alcohol intake, a basic lack of “proper respect for the game.” The latter response was my boyfriend’s explanation of why we were sucking at this golf thing. Anyway, by the third hole, which I believed involved a large plastic, animatronic alligator, and 20 minutes of direction on how to “improve our swings,” we decided we liked our version of golf better. We made our pwn rules. You got a point for shouting “p[lay through” and waiting patiently while the other people played through. You got a point for each obstacle on the hole you hit. If your ball bounced around like a pinball, 10 points! If you stood on one foot and made club to ball contact, 25 points! At one point, she and I were laughing so hard, we both had to sit down. Sadly, my boyfriend was NOT at all amused by this and was mortified at our lack of respect “for the course” (he is NOT my husband). By the time we were done, we had converted her date to our way of playing, as well as many other amused golfers on the course. We did not convert Mr. Competitive Pants. It still goes down in history as one of the most fun things I have EVER done, and in things I do to this day, I strive to see the fun like we did that night, even in the face of a Mr. Pissy Pants.
Now in my 30’s, “fun” has evolved again. I have four kids, and not a day goes by without one of them making me laugh. Hmmm, maybe I am actually a “laughter junkie.” Must address that thought. Anyway, one of them is always coming up with something…For example, the time my 6 year old was in major trouble and I was counting her down. I hollered up the stairs, “One!” and paused and before I could even get a breath in, my one year old hollered up the stairs, “Two!” The bedroom door upstairs flew open and the 6 year old hollered back down “I AM NOT GOING TO TAKE THAT FROM HER!!!” I had to stop counting and hide in the other room. I couldn’t stop laughing…for hours. BUt our most fun thing was this January when the Snowpocalypse happened. It was predicted, and I admit, I prepared for it (Thank God I did). I bought a ton of extra milk, bread, food, flashlights, batteries (shut up, Jamie), and battery powered lights (no candles for a house with a two year old and one year old). The two older kids and I totally prepared, much to the disdain of my husband. The snow was predicted to hit after 9pm, and it was a school night. We got all the kids to bed as if it were a school night (7:30pm) and then he and I decided to have a mini date night and we ended up watching the movie “Date Night.” He had been convinced this snow storm wasn’t coming, but at 11:00pm, it was a fricking blizzard and actually accumulating. It hit me – we have to get the girls up before it melts!!! We checked the news, schools were canceled the next day, so I finally convinced him to wake up the girls. So, at 11:15 pm, we got the girls up, fed them a snack and hot chocolate, got them and ourselves into our “snow gear” and went out into the snow a midnight. We were the only ones outside, the FIRST ones outside and we had a blast! My husband (who is also a fun person) even had a great time! We were laughing, sledding, throwing snowballs….PURE FUN!!! Postscript: We ended up with 5 days of school closings and road closures and COLD, so the “fun” became “tricky” by the 3rd day of no school. But, we had milk. And batteries.
But, as a parent of four kids, how do you find your own “adult fun”? Jamie will now insert a really dirty joke about the swingers club downtown…My husband and I used to play poker and bet things. For example, one night he lost a Hold ’em hand and had to run through our backyard naked. I lost a hand and had to but him a soccer jersey he wanted. That was PURE FUN! WE have “game night.” PURE FUN!!! In fact, here is a shout out…”Catch Phrase”, the original not the electronic version is just the best!!!
I am now going to youtube Robin Williams’ explanation of golf and laugh until my tummy hurts:)

🙂

Before I go into my topic, I must begin with this factual statement: To those of you who already know and have previously known about this blog, I SWEAR this is not about you. So the two people who might be reading this and might be tempted to get upset, I SWEAR this is not about you and/or your situations! (In other words, the spouses of the people who write on this blog need not worry.)
Now, having said that, it has recently been brought to my attention that a beautiful, intelligent, wonderful young lady has been involved in a relationship with a married man for five years. Having worked in bars on and off for almost 16 years, I was SHOCKED (sarcasm) to hear this. How would a wonderful young woman get into a situation like this? How could a good person find herself a third party in a marriage? Well, it happens ALL the time. Has happened to many, many people I know, regardless of their background, faith, moral beliefs, education, attractiveness, hobbies, jobs, etc. In fact, it happened to me in my very, very early 20’s. And the funny thing is the story is almost always the EXACT same. “My wife doesn’t love me. Technically, we are separated. WE sleep in separate beds. We haven’t said ‘I love you” for years. We are only together for the kids/pets. She goes her own way and does her own thing and I do mine. We have an understanding. We are waiting for the kids to grow up/beloved pet to die (no shit, that was the comment during my “situation).” And that is the background story…which turns into: “You are my soul mate. We are meant to be together. Start looking at apartments, baby, because this time next year, it will be me and you. I loved you from the moment I saw you. Just hang on a little bit longer, baby. I need you, I love you. You giveme things my wife never could. You are fun, no drama. I can relax with you. I love our time together.” I could go on, but I am gettin’ a bit hostile. Anyway, the point is The Story is All the Same. And that is a HUGE point.
In my case, I chatted with the wife. She told me I wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last. The dude and I moved on with our lives. He moved on much quicker. Turns out, not only was I not the first or the last, but I wasn’t the only one at the time, either. There were several. And, last time I heard, there still were several. He is who he is…a man in desperate need of love and affection and adoration. For the most part, he is the definition of a “narcissist.” MOst guys – and girls – who creat theses situations for themselves are.
I am no saint -obviously- and I firmly believe people make mistakes, make bad choices, and mess up in many ways and deserve, if they ask for it, the opportunity to be forgiven and make amends for what they have done. But, they have to ask for the forgiveness (in so doing, acknowledging the mistakes they have made) and in some way, atone for it. I am totally off subject here…Let me reel myself back in.
So, here’s the deal…I have three daughters and one son. I am married to a guy. I find it to be mine and my husband’s responsibility to teach our kids what we have learned in life. I think the purpose of being a parent is to pass on your life experiences, where you think you might have made mistakes, things you wish you had done better, etc, with the goal your kids can learn from those things and teach even more to your grandkids. (Idealistic, I know, but I believe it with all my heart.) Soooo…if this were my daughter coming to me and saying “I have been with this guy on and off for 10 years, and he is still married,” I would say “Girl, get a grip, why do you want him anyway?” I am slowly but surely getting to a point, hang in there with me…As much as he is lying to his wife, he is lying to you!!! He is lying to the wife to get out of the house. Of course they are sleeping in the same bed…who wants to sleep for years on a couch???? Of course they are saying “I love you”! HOw long would you stay married to a guy who wouldn’t say it to you??? And, if they are “both off doing their own thing,” how come the hot chick he is married to hasn’t found herself a man she wants to be with???
I am sucking at getting to the original point. I apologize for that. I actually veered off in realizing how stupid (in retrospect) I was.

30 minute time lapse…I had to go walk around the kitchen to vent some anger at myself and the moron who helped create a bunch of issues in my life…like the ability to believe in what some men will say. My situation happened before I was 21, and literally, involved a 10 year old dog with seizures as the reason for “staying.” I must now point out that before I has two legged kids, I had four legged kids. I am a huge dog person, and firmly believe they are just as much “kids” to people as the four two legged kids I have. Anyway, does anyone remember my point? I started kicking myself in the ass and lost the point. Oh, wait. That might be the point. My life got so messed up by this guy, I turned down several decent marriage proposals (at least one friend is laughing), screwed up several significant relationships in my life solely because I didn’t want to be hurt like this dude’s wife was hurt. It was her choice to stay with the dude, but…
Be it man or woman, if there is lying in a relationship, you DON”T want it. I had a friend who would even say to me, “Hey, Mandy, that makes your ass look huge.” Don’t we really all want someone like that in our lives? Isn’t that the kind of relationship we are looking for? Or do we want someone who says, “I love you, baby” and 15 minutes later is bouncing off the neighbor in the backseat of the minivan?
To my friend: If he will lie his ass off to his wife, he will lie his ass off to you. In fact, he has been lying his ass off to you all along. In 15 years, I hope you aren’t kicking your own self in the ass like I just did (I was soooo stupid).
And hopefully, I will be better equipped to give my kids knowledge and foresight in this subject, because I have been through it from many angles now.
I was just thinking I should be ticketed for writing “A Rambling Blog.” I look forward to questions and comments, and would like to reiterate, if you have know about this blog for more than a week, it is NOT referencing you!!!!!