(Un)Happy Tree Friends

If you are easily offended or weak stomached go ahead read this instead. xoxo

It is blessedly quiet right now. LeArtist has convinced LeBella to play in the back yard with him for a bit. (Can we give a cheer for locked, 6foot high privacy fences and large bedroom windows that show the entire yard?) This peace won’t last for more than 10 minutes so I need to write fast!

Over the last few weeks LeBella has been a whirling, swirling tornado on crack. The new meds haven’t made any noticeable change. And apparently she has forgotten how to talk. Oh no, don’t get your hopes up. She yells and screams. Constantly. From the minute she wakes up until the minute she passes out from exhaustion. The only time she is quiet is when I give her the computer. The problem is I have a million things I need to get done during the day. Besides writing (blog and book) I have classes, people. College. Online. So…

In attempt to provide her with a bit of entertainment while I got some work done I went hunting on Netflix for something that would capture her fleeting attention. Que the Happy Tree Friends.

 

Look they're so bright and Happy!

What little girl doesn't love colorful, lovable animal characters?

Ok, so she is engaged. Happy animals, happy girl minion. I turn my back to her. Not in a mean way, that’s just how my desk faces. And she is blessedly quiet for 1 minute….2minutes…..3 minutes and then…

“Oh god…..oh…no…oh…oh….god…..mommy shut it off SHUT IT OFF!!!!” by this point she is screaming hysterically and burying her head in the blankets. I turn to the screen and I am greeted with this:

Um, ouch?

Yeah. I was all, “What the crap??” and diving for the remote. I mean this is the girl who was traumatized by The Little Mermaid!

So, if you want to see the Happy Tree Friends in action here ya go, just make sure your kiddos aren’t around. (BTW my 13 thinks its hilarious, go figure.)

 

That is all people. That is all.

Writer’s Workshop: Social Media Butterfly

Happy Thursdays, Lovelies! I feel like I’ve had a fab bloggy week (especially since IRL has been a little icky). I hope this is the start of a trend! I feel better after a I write! Before I jump into today’s post I just want to thank Big Daddy Autismfor guesting posting with us yesterday! So, it’s Thursday so that means……

Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop

<a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com"target="_blank"
So the other day Mama Kat and I were sitting around drinking wine organic green tea and discussing her fab new look. “It’s important to grow in social media otherwise you’ll get stale and then Ellen will never write you back.” She was bleary eyed and her words slurred  just a little but I could hear the seriousliness of her voice. Then she turned to me and inquired “How has social media changed you, Mommylebron?” My star-struck heart did a little flip flop because she remember my name and then my fermented berry soak brain tried to pull together a Poodle worthy response.

>Hiccup<

*Ahem.*

 

When I started exploring social media on Myspace (shut up) I was a caterpillar (without the grossness and eating of leaves). I posted stuff (read:crap) on a semi-regular basis and uploaded eleventy billion pictures. I befriend all my family, close friends and people I knew from school whether I liked them or not.

Then I discovered Facebook. I felt more comfortable there. It was my own little cocoon where I was actually interacting with all my family, close friends, and people I knew from school whether I liked them or not.

And then?

I discovered The Twitter. Here I connected with not family. Not close friends. Not people I knew from school whether I liked them or not.

I connected with random people from all over the world who shared my interests, my passions, but not always my opinions (and that’s ok!). I have met so many amazing people on Twitter that I won’t list them here for fear of forgetting someone in all their awesomeness. After some time on Twitter, I was tempted into a new hobby. Blogging.

I’ve spent a good deal of my life feeling invisible. The wallflower. Often overlooked and forgotten. Suddenly I had somewhere to put my words, my thoughts, my self. And people notice me! They respond and connect with me! I suddenly feel less socially inept.

I feel like I’m building friendships and (dare I say it?) affecting lives. With my words. The words that have swam around my head for 31ish years. I gift them to you and you receive them graciously.

And suddenly?

 

Death by Meatloaf or The Time I Blew Up the Oven

See that pretty meatloaf? Yeah, I didn't make it. Thank you Google Images.

I tried for years to perfect my meatloaf making expertise. I mean it’s the all American Go To Meal, right? Can I really don my nifty, bubble gum pink, cupcake adorned apron knowing that I can’t even bake a simple meatloaf?

I can make a lasagna that makes every person who says “Trust me, Amanda, I/my mom/my grandma/my drunk next door neighbor makes the best lasagna” drool and beg for seconds.

Ok, I didn't make this one either...But trust me mine's just as pretty!

But my meatloaf?

Ahem.

Needless to say I was forbidden to make anymore meatloaf. It really broke my little Joan Cleaver Heart. ..::sniff::..

So now, you can imagine my elation when I found a fresh prepared meatloaf in the meat department of my local Publix. It already had the perfect meat to bread crumb ratio! It was perfectly season and molded into a pretty shape. In. Its. Own. Pan. Bake. Eat. Dispose. Best meatloaf ever. I can retain my self proclaimed Domestic Goddessness without feeling like a poser.

So fast forward 10 meatloaves later…..

I overslept that morning, making everyone late for school and myself late for work. The day is stellar already. Half way through my day of entertaining 24 2 year olds (yeah, no you read that right) I realized I forgot to thaw out meat for dinner.

That afternoon I spent a good 45 minutes in the daycare director’s office hearing how LeBella had gone all Rosemary’s baby on her teacher. Again. Ahem. The fact that this is the day she was kicked out of daycare is irrelevant. Or not.

*>sigh<*

On the way home I stopped at Publix to grab a meatloaf (America’s Go To Meal, people) and some sides. LeBella had the Gimmies throughout the store and was in full meltdown mode during the ride home. As we pulled into the driveway she was eerily quiet but I was a little distracted and my reaction time was delayed as she bolted from the car and took off down the block. In the rain. Did I mention it was raining?

A half an hour later I had corralled all children, groceries and my tattered dignity into the house. I threw the meatloaf into the oven and collapsed ointo a dining room chair.

-Children glued to probably inappropriate TV show? Check.

-Dinner started? Check.

-Mommy having her daily anxiety attack? Check.

I put my head down on the table as I attempted to catch my breath and slow my pounding heart. As I am staring, thoughtlessly, at the little window of the oven I see a small flash of light. WTF?

-Grease catching pan placed under slightly overstuffed meatloaf pan? FAIL!

As I rush towards the oven I see a couple more of those little flashes and I am hoping to get to the oven before it makes too much of a greasy mess. I reach for the handle and…

Booph! The entire inside of the oven is on fire!! I am panicing! My first thought is: Water! Wait, that may not be a good idea, Amanda. The oven is electric. I sense badness in this plan.

Okay, okay: Salt! Awesome, I am still reigning Goddess. Except? The salt is in the cabinet above the burning oven, along with a big bottle of vegetable oil!

&^%^(%@#!! Why do we not have a fire extinguisher?!?

Just as I have lost all hope, of not humiliating myself I reach for my phone to call in some Big Dogs, the fire disappears. Like my oven was saying, “Ha! Just effing with you.”

Just then LeDaddy shows up…

As I relayed my terrifying story LeDaddy interrupts to ask, “Why didn’t you grab the fire extinguisher from the garage?”

WTF?

Stream of Conscious: Guilt

I know, I know! A second post? I almost never do that! But the truth is, I coerced Fadra to follow me back on Twitter weeks ago with a promise to participate in her linky, which I really do love. I actually thought of it as I was study my psychology book and the phrase “stream of consciousness” came up. Then I was all, oh crap! So here I am!
The truth is, this happens to me more than I’d like to admit. I commit to a lot of things. And I want to do them all. I also want to do them well.
I am currently homeschooling my daughter and it has taken a turn towards unschooling, really. And for that I have been feeling so guilty. And then? She took some testing at the school this week. After 3 months at home with me she had the highest scores in her class!
I love this blog. I aim for posting every day. But I don’t want to just throw crap on the screen. So some days I don’t post. Then I feel guilty, like I’ve let you down and you won’t love me anymore. But then I come back and post and? There you are with your sweet comments and twitter love. Huh.
And that book I’m writing? It’s slow going because I don’t always have time. And then I feel guilty. But after I sit down and write or edit for a while. I feel wonderful becasue I remember it is my story and it’s not going to disappear. It already lives in its own special spot of my consciousness like a really awesome supernatural memory. Or something like that.
And school? I have guilt because I sometimes have to choose priorities. Like this week I’ll need to cut out of class to take LeBella to the drs. But then I get an email from my instructor saying he understands. No worries. But homework is still due on time.
Times Up.

***

This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes only.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
• Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
• Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
• Link up your post below.
• Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

Mom Confession: Torture as a Discipline Method

This is Jiovanni aka LeScholar at about 2.5 years old. I know what you’re thinking. Those chubby cheeks, big brown eyes, sweet little smile. Why would you ever need any discipline at all, let alone torturous ones?

Well, my answer is two fold. He is the first born child of a teen mom (uh, that would be me, y’all). So he was the guinea pig. You know, the test kid that you practice all your parenting stuff on before you decide to stock up on more expand your little family. And the second part? Oh yeah, he was quite possibly possessed by a demonic spirit 93.2% of the time. And also he was immune to my discipline tactics.

“You are grounded!” earned me a quick smile.

“No car keys for a week!” was good for a giggle.

“I’m taking away your cell phone!” got me a belly laugh.

People, we were dealing with a two year old. Big guns were required. I refused to be taken down by  a two foot tall terrorist who thought poop made great wall decorations.

“I’m getting the Shoes.”

“No, mommy, no shoes! I beed good! I beed the good boy! I no want it shoes!” This plea was often punctuated by one of those ear piercing wails that only a toddler and my 9 year old daughter are capable of.

Now before you go to call CPS let me tell you two things!

1. Statute of limitations.

2. While often tempted, I did not ever beat my child with a shoe.

Let me explain. Remember that Christmas about 10ish years ago when Mother’s everywhere were eye gauging and ripping out each others hair to get this lil guy into their shopping carts?

Well, being the loser last minute Christmas shopping Mommy that I am, I had to settle for the slightly less popular:

And what made our Cookie Monster so awesome was that he came with a pair of plastic shoes (one piece) with speakers in the top and wheels on the bottom. So you stuck his fuzzy wuzzy feet into those bad boys and he could (drum roll please) walk and talk!!

“My want cookies! Nom nom nom nom!”

And that deep growly voice couple with the slightly jerky movement of the shoes scared the wall art out my demon possessed sweet baby boy. Score!

So, I did what any responsible teen mom still learning how to discipline a toddle would do.

I let him watch me placed them in the little half closet that house the AC unit for the house. And gave him the plain boring Cookie Monster doll to torment cuddle with.

And then?

Refuse to go to bed? “I’m getting the Shoes.”

“Noooo! I beed good! I no want it shoes!”

Learning that hitting is fun?

“Shoes?”

“Nooooo! No, shoes, Mommy!”

Kamakazee jumping off the furniture?

*Look towards closet containing the offensive shoes.*

*Docile toddler climbs off the back of the sofa and sits with hands in lap, watching mindless episodes of The Teletubbies. Occasionally glaces apprehensively at Mommy and said closet.*

Is there, like, some kind of award for mastering child discipline as a teen mom? Just curious…..