Posts Tagged colleen
Yes, My Dog is Crazy, and Yes, He Needs Medication
You might have heard this before, but my dog is crazy. Not Gryffin (short for Sir Godric Gryffindor of Harry Potter fame) -he’s my first dog, the older dog, the perfect dog. Firstborn son dog. Dog that finished every training class they had at the local animal shelter and was recommended to be a pet therapy dog for hospitals and senior centers because he was soooo good and soooo perfect. That dog I like. But I liked him so much I figured, hey, why not get a second dog? Then my pet can have a pet. I think he’s lonely when I’m not home. He needs a puppy. Great idea, right? Wrong.
Welcome Nicky. Short for Nicolas Flamel, also of Harry Potter fame. Except the only magic this dog has is that he hasn’t managed to kill himself. From the beginning he wasn’t “normal”. Most dogs can be crated and learn not to poop in their crate. This dog pooped in the crate and rolled in it so that anytime I left the house for an hour I had to bathe him. And get poop off of him. Gross. So away goes the crate. He doesn’t like to be contained or restrained. I get it. Except when I leave now he starts eating not just anything he can find laying around, but also the walls. Not just the corners, or the moldings, although he ate those as well, in addition to the actual walls.
Man Flu – She’s Sick; He’s Sick(er)
You’ve noticed right? Or maybe suspected? That there is something drastically different between when a woman is sick and a man is sick? It’s OK. You’re not alone. Here’s what happens. To All Men. Without Question or Exception. Sometimes, men get sick. Sometimes they don’t whine. Sometimes they go to work and tough it out. Sometimes they muster through the weekend and still do household chores. And then at some point, their Healthy Manhood expires and they act like a Sick Man. And what Sick Men do is not the same as what Sick Women do.
When He’s Sick: He wakes up. He has A Sniffle. Maybe he has a Tickle in his throat. He moans. He Feels Sick. This means he can’t get out of bed. He can barely move. He must remain lying down, stay in bed and Recuperate.
When She’s Sick: She wakes up. She has A Sniffle. Maybe a Tickle in her throat. She gargles with the leftover toothpaste in her mouth and spits. The Tickle doesn’t go away. She gets the kids ready for school. Has some tea. The kids forgot they need to make a cardboard castle for a poem project for school. The rest of the tea is forgotten as they excavate the recycling in the garage so they can finish the project in thirteen minutes. She drives the rest of carpool to school, balancing a castle on her lap. On the way home she picks up dog food, goes to the bank, and remembers the kids lunch supplies for the rest of the week. When she gets home her tea is cold and Himself hasn’t moved. He moans a little in his sleep. She forgets why she married him. It certainly wasn’t for his immune system.
When He’s Sick: He uses four boxes of tissues. Some of these tissues make it into the garbage can. The rest spread across the floor like a carpet badge of honor snot.Read More
Husbands Helping at the Holidays, A Primer for Sanity
So a couple weeks ago we hosted 36 people for Thanksgiving dinner. It was quite a feat, kept me occupied for two weeks prior getting everything ready, and made me laugh and curse and laugh at how my husband “helps”. He really means well. It’s just that I don’t think he has a true party gene. It’s like when Jennifer Aniston said Brad Pitt was missing a sensitivity chip. My husband is missing the party part of his brain.
As I was talking about this on Thanksgiving, many of my fellow sisters and mothers and cohorts on this planet could commiserate. Their husbands were also missing something in their brain – what else could lead them to think that reorganizing the toolshed was a helpful part of the party process? The first question is – do they really think that something like cleaning out the garage should be done for a party? Or is it just something to do in order to avoid actual important work instead?
I would like to put forth that these husband (party pooper) actions are not ill-intentioned. They truly believe they are doing good things for the overall party needs. If they were just trying to avoid work, they wouldn’t pick another chore – they’d watch football on the couch, they’d escape the house and go to the bar, they’d run an errand and not return for hours. These “Helpful” Husband Chores can be very upsetting and confusing to the wives who are busy balancing every other item on the to-do list. Here, I have compiled a helpful list of what the husbands* are likely to want to do based on personality. I’m not sure if it’s fixable, but it’s at least explainable. And laughable. Lordy we need to laugh.Read More
Yes. There’s More.
In case you got lost… this is a supplement to the blog “No Joke:How Not To Treat A Volunteer….Lessons from the trenches from a Class Mom on Probation“. You might want to read that one first. This is just an add-on of another story that has been lingering in the department of Things That Annoy Me. Or just read on. It’s a stand alone story so you’ll be fine….
I might not be as annoyed as I am if this were the first time offense with the group email response to a single situation. But it’s not. This email edict has happened before. The first time this happened was last spring. My father-in-law was in the ICU for two months. He sadly passed away in April, but as you can imagine, between February and March our family was in turmoil. I had told all my kids teachers and they were so thoughtful and caring. I had told the school guidance counselors who made themselves available and my daughter found such solace in talking with her school counselor that to this day she still keeps the little notes they made together. “I am safe”. “I am OK”. Her biggest worry was that something horrible was going to happen to someone else she loved at any second.
No Joke: How Not To Treat A Volunteer…. Lessons from the Trenches from a Class Mom on Probation
Well, I’m not technically on probation, but I am waiting to find out if I’m fired. And no, I’m not kidding.
See, I usually kid and joke about stuff quite a lot. I find it human. I think it’s good stress relief. And most of the time the people around me like it too. Except for, apparently, this time. Half a dozen people told me they liked my funny bit that I included on the form I handed out as Katie’s class mom on back to school night. This is the form where we asked for checks for teacher gifts for holiday, checks for teacher gifts for end of year, checks for PTO dues, and checks for PTO annual fund. That’s a lot of checks. But there was one who whined. And complained. And went to the powers that be to tattle. Because I made a joke. I’m not saying it was a good joke. Sure it was probably in a bit of bad taste, but there were no curse words and I didn’t borrow anything from Louis C.K. I just added a line. “If I write one more check I might kill someone”.
Funny? I thought so. Not to some. OK. I’m sorry. I legitimately am. Not everyone likes edgy humor and I suppose to those who are ultra politically correct killing jokes aren’t funny. I get that. I hate when someone says “Rule of thumb” because its origin was back in the days when there were laws on the books that said a man could beat his wife provided that the stick he used was no wider than his thumb. I hear that line and I cringe, but I recognize that it isn’t a call for action for more domestic violence. It’s just something people say. As far as expressions go, I’ve heard some that are a wee bit worse than that.
It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year…A Back to School Special
The kids are going back to school. Without me.
Just kidding – I’m sure I’ll need to be there for a PTO meeting, training about how to behave in the library, volunteering in the library, concerts, art shows, art class volunteer duty – here’s your glue, book fair, holiday fair, fair’s fair, the mini marathon what-now, drop off, pick up, rainy days, you forgot your lunch/ boots/ mittens/ hat/ don’t call DYFS I swear I told my kid to dress warmly, pizza day, taco day, what is that on your lunch tray day, and of course, special events day. Because the other events were all not special enough. Am I bitter? Not really. Just tired.
Sometimes people ask me if I like being a stay at home mom. Firstly, if I said “no”, you’d think I was a horrible mother who didn’t love her children, or that I don’t appreciate the opportunity to be with them and not “have” to work. Trust me, I appreciate not having to drag my butt to an office every day. Secondly, I’m not a stay at home mom. I’m a drive all over the place for my kids, run errands, do grocery shopping six times a day, wait I forgot we need propane for the grill head back out, and where are the dogs they need a walk mom. I don’t like it all the time. But I love my kids. Most of the time.
The 40th Birthday Blog…
So I am 40 today. That makes me old, reflective, and writing. I am halfway to 80. I am 20 twice. I am starting to realize that I am a little bit quirky. My husband snorted because I said “a little bit”. Maybe I’m just starting to realize it more as I grow wiser and more introspective. Much wiser. And much more quirky. At least I’m not yet “Batty” – that’s usually reserved for octogenarians. But me?
I am a Prepper. Not just like the zombies might come and we should have a supply of foods and medicine for everyone in the house and a “go bag” in case we need to bug out. I do all that and have all that. Including gluten-free emergency food packs for Katie. And we have a generator. The kind that powers the entire house in an apocalypse. But I also prep the bathrooms. To me an emergency occurs not when there is no more toilet paper in the bathroom, but before that, when the spare rolls are down to just one. If I could wallpaper the room with spare rolls I would. But in the meantime I have one of those toilet paper storage rolls in every bathroom. And they should always be stocked. If they become empty, everything comes to a grinding halt, and everyone needs to participate in the restocking phenomenon. My kids think this is weird. That’s just another name for quirky.
I hate dirty bathrooms – and germs in general. Or bathrooms that might be dirty. Or bathrooms that were used by someone outside the first generation of our family tree or my closest friends. Or too many people even within that circle. I have cootie issues. I can’t use a use a bathroom after a certain number of guests at a party have used it. Those kinds of odds means someone must have germs. Or syphilis. Same applies if it’s been too many days between a thorough cleaning and a house guest. What if they contracted a horrible disease that hasn’t manifested itself? Like a stomach bug? Or ebola? I will climb numerous flights of stairs to find a clean bathroom instead of using one that looks perfectly fine but might have invisible cooties. Of course I could always clean it. Like now. Good lord let me get my Clorox wipes. Or else hide under my covers. Maybe take a nap.Read More
What I Really Really Want For 2015
Trust me. You want these things too. The only problem is that they haven’t been invented yet. I bet the new year can make it happen.
Christmas (and Hanukkah, and Kwanza, and Yule) has come and gone and I’m still picking up pieces of wrapping paper that have hidden themselves in odd places in the house. Not that the holidaze are all about the presents, but I mean come on. Americans spend $465 BILLION on Christmas each year, give or take a few sheckles. So with all that money to spend, some of us might want something actually useful. Like, instead of the (insert awful/ annoying/ silly/ not what you would have picked for yourself) gift here, imagine how fabulous life would be if we had:
The Antidote to Whining and Nonsense.
I want to give my daughter a pill to take along with her fluoride vitamin and it would take away the whiny voice, foot stomping, general eye rolling and sassy attitude. Or maybe a vaccine so it’s permanent. Or my favorite idea, some kind of weaponry so I could take aim at her when she’s being annoying and it distributes sparkles and happy thoughts, like fairy dust.
Expert Robot Assistant
Sometimes I’d like a break. I need someone like Rosie from the Jetsons. Someone who can unload the dishwasher, put the groceries away, get the kids dressed and into their coats and shoes on time for school. I’d like to finish my coffee, while it’s still lukewarm.Read More
WTF Dreamworks? Don’t You Dig Dads? Warning: Parents in Peril…..
I can always count on Disney for mommy issues, but now apparently I can count on Dreamworks for Daddy issues. I went to see How To Train Your Dragon 2 this weekend and afterward was so mad at Dreamworks that I decided I need to hate on them for awhile. So here we go.
It’s a well-known fact that Disney has Mommy issues. Think of any princess movie ever (and most other Disney movies) and tell me about a mom. They’re either dead (Little Mermaid, Aladdin, Snow White, Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast) or going to die on or off-screen (Bambi, Nemo, Frozen) or might die on-screen in a really scary way (Brave). And don’t tell me Sleeping Beauty. She has to leave her parents until she turns 16 and live in Foster Care with dubious Foster Mothers. Ditto with Tangled. Mothers are absent, step-mothers are evil. Thanks, Disney. My 8-year-old Katie and I are thrilled. She has no problem listing off all the princesses and their problems.
So Dreamworks, now too? WTF? I will tell you now that spoilers abound since there’s no way to write this little diatribe without it. Guess what. The dad DIES (onscreen!) in How To Train Your Dragon 2. Worst part? The adorable more-of-a-dog-and-pet than Dragon KILLS the dad. WTF? Are you serious? So the dragon, Toothless, is taken over by an evil alpha dragon and becomes Cujo and starts to attack Hiccup, the main character, as he cowers and begs his loyal friend not to attack him. Then, just as that weird blue fire poof comes out of the dragon’s mouth, Stoic, the dad, pushes Hiccup out of the way and is murdered by their once loving and loyal pal. Way to go. My eight and ten-year-old kids are watching this and stop eating popcorn just long enough to say “wha?” and “really? Right after the family reunion?” respectively.
Wah and Really is exactly right. Why The F*$% do we need to kill parents on screen? Ever? Why do we need to watch loved ones check for heartbeats and cry over their dead? Why do we need to see their lifeless bodies atop a Viking funeral pyre as they shoot flaming arrows and light the corpse on fire? WTF? This is a KIDS movie right?
So apparently in 2009, Dreamworks entered into a long-term, 30 picture distribution deal with drumroll…DISNEY. In crazy film jargon, that means that Disney’s mommy complex is now creating daddy issues for Dreamworks. Let’s investigate.
Now, if I had endless time, or were actually PAID to write, my investigation would go something like this: Using the Dreamworks public website filmography, , watch every movie, noting themes, main and minor characters, backstory, and conflicts. Read three major reviews for each film and note recurring similarities. Note box office successes and parent reviews. Gain access to Dreamworks higher management (not just a spokesperson) and obtain comments on article and research of the theory “Dreamworks Doesn’t Dig Dads”.
However, I write for myself, without pay, and have an actual life that requires me to pay attention to my children and not just the whims of my writing. They want to be fed three meals per day plus usually 2-3 snacks, request entertainment, need clean clothing, need to be encouraged to do things semi-academic, especially since we are in that inbetween purgatory of ‘school has ended but camp has not yet begun’. So none of that other research protocol is going to happen. Instead, here’s what is happening.
I looked at the Dreamworks Filmography, wrote down the parts that help my argument. Then asked my ten-almost-eleven-year-old to look at the list and tell me which movies he has seen (not surprisingly he has seen most of the box office hits, and has not seen the box office busts that almost bankrupted Dreamworks in the process). Alex, who is smart, tells me his opinion on what will help my blog. He came up with quotes like this:
Megamind – Is about a superhero fakes his own death. It leaves a city in total despair.
Monster vs. Aliens – The main character is separated from her fiancé (and parents and family) at the altar where she turns into a freak and the government sends her off to fight robots.
How To Train Your Dragon – The mom is not around in the first movie, we assume she’s been taken away by dragons, they finally find her in the second movie just in time for her to watch the dad die. Dude.
A lot of these Dreamworks movies are all about doomed love.
I think Alex could have his own blog. He’s wicked smart.
So those tidbits aside, my main examples of how Dreamworks has started to suck include Kung Fu Panda, The Croods, and of course as already discussed, the How To Train Your Dragon 2 movie. In quick detail and order of distribution date:
Kung Fu Panda (2008, sequel 2011) – So first off, the Panda, Po, is adopted. In the sequel we discover that he lost his parents as a child, winds up in a radish container, and finds his way to the duck, stork, goose, crane or whatever bird he is, who finds him and adopts him. The goose is also a little crazy and fails to notice that his panda son has an infatuation with kung fu. Instead, the father has basically only one line the entire movie – “You like noodles?” This is also a funny line and one we use every time we talk about pool noodles or Chinese noodles. Now, the bird father eventually figures out that his portly panda child needs to follow his own destiny but only after Po is launched into the air on a chair full of fireworks screaming “I love Kung Fu”. Talk about the writing in the sky. So the stork dad is a dummy, but eventually comes around. And at the end of the second movie, we find out that Po’s parents are alive in some far-off meditative meadow, and while Po never gets to meet them, it does leave open the opportunity for a third movie. There is hope. There is also death on screen – something about the Wooshie Finger hold and a squidoosh – which kills the bad guy, Tai-lung the tiger/leopard, but there’s no body parts (just the town is a big mess) so that’s good. And when the old turtle guy dies he just turns into peach blossoms or something. So as far as general disrespect or violence to fathers and father figures goes, I give it a B+.
The Croods (2013) – First let me say I loved this movie. It was hilarious and cracked me up just in previews let alone the full-length film. The opening scene with the whole family chasing after an egg? And the “release the baby” bit? Loved. The little sloth whose name is Belt? Adorable. We still say “Dunh Dunh DUNH!” around here in homage to a caveman sloth drama drumroll. The part where the new boyfriend helps the girls make shoes that look remarkably like Uggs? I can’t even. And while it does start down the ‘death to dads’ path, it at least follows the Hollywood ending where we think something terribly sad is going to happen but it turns out to have a happily ever after ending instead. And I’m a big fan of those kinds of endings. Is it sappy and typical? Yes. It’s also what I’m paying $10 per ticket (plus $40 in popcorn) to go see. If I want to see something sad I’ll stay home and watch a documentary. If I’m bringing my kids out to a movie in public where I am battling the potential for bird flu, sticky floors, other people’s whiny children and who knows what else, I want to have a HAPPY ENDING. Period. So while this movie starts to make you think the Dad is going to DIE, there is at least a point to it. He is resigned to sacrificing himself to save others, literally throwing his family across a ravine while he stays in the falling apart side of the earth (because apparently only certain zip codes were falling apart and the “good” side of town across the ravine was FINE and the place to move. Better schools too I bet). As scary and sad as this is, this movie plays by the rules, we think the dad is going to die, but then he manages a miracle, comes up with an idea with his caveman brain, rescues himself and a pet, and lives. He Lives. But I cried a lot in the in-between part, just in case you were wondering, and my then seven-year-old said repeatedly “Mommy who is going to save the daddy?”. So I give this movie a rating on violence and potential death to dads as a C-. Other than that the movie was great.
I’ve already discussed How To Train Your Dragon 2 above, but here is the summary of why this movie sucked. As soon as there is a reunion of a happy two-parent household, they rip them apart and kill one of them. So yes, after nearly 20 years, Hiccup gets his mom back, but his dad is killed off by none other than his most loyal friend, Toothless the Dragon in less than 20 minutes. Boo. Seriously. Boo Hiss. This is a KIDS movie. Will my kids learn about death and dying in other places outside this movie? Yes. They have already and they will continue to do so. In real life. We don’t want or need the movies, which are supposed to be our happy escape, to teach us any more sad lessons. Show me Hope. Show me Patience. Show me a sense of Humor that can combat any bad day. Show me Hard Work that Pays Off. Show me Dedication, show me Love, show me Perseverance. Don’t show me the dad dying on screen and the main character holding his lifeless body in his arms. I don’t want to need to explain away bad movie writing – but I will. And then I’ll boycott the next Parents in Peril movie, because I’m tired of it. Dear Dreamworks, Dear Disney – smarten up. I’m here to stay. And I have a lot to say on the matter.
Bad Part-Time Jobs Are Good For You
A new article states that only 25% of teens in the US worked in 2013. Teens are missing out on earning their own money and building character traits from having jobs that make you question your own desire to live. More on horrible jobs in my life:
Chuck E. Cheese Pizza, Wayne, NJ (circa 1992-93), Bit of Everything, including the Rat
Being a Disney Character is a highly-desired job. They have a handler who escorts them everywhere they go. People love their famous personas. Being Chuck E. Cheese is dressing up like a rat in order to be beaten by rude and obnoxious children while their ruder and obnoxious-er parents watch and laugh. Dude. There’s someone in there getting paid minimum wage. Be kind. Remember that they worked their way up out of Game Room where they had to clean the balls in the ball crawl after your kid peed on them. They worked their way out of the prize counter where they had to argue with your kids that no, they could not have the six foot dolphin worth 10,000 tickets for just the three tickets they had. They worked their way up out of the kitchen where they used to smell like pizza and when they were done with their shift they had to leave their shoes outside their house because the dough and flour would attract ants and insects. They are simultaneously trying to use their ballet, tap and jazz dancing skills while balancing a giant heavy head with someone else’s sweat and boogers on it. I did all of those things and more. This is the job where I learned parents sometimes suck.
Beth Israel Hospital, Boston MA (circa 1994-95), Pincushion
I sold my body to science. Just some blood, and platelets, and stuff. They were testing some new drugs and I had to fill out a little questionnaire, stay in the hospital for a few days, and eat ice cream. I don’t remember what the ice cream part was all about but it was actually part of the testing. I brought my homework, skipped a couple classes, ate ice cream. This is where I learned discovered I am allergic to latex. And don’t like needles. But what I really learned is that I don’t like being poor more than those other things, so yes, I will take experimental drugs and let you take as much blood as you need.Read More