It’s that time again…that time of the month (I call it DMS for During Menstrual Syndrome) when I get an all-consuming desire to organize my entire life, experience massive amounts of guilt over my parenting and become thoroughly convinced that nobody loves me or cares about me—all while feeling more tired than I ever thought humanly possible and being busier than anyone who doesn’t work outside the home should ever be.

One would think that I’d be used to this cycle of suck by now, that I’d see it coming and somehow be able to ward it off but no…that never happens. Instead I act like a crazy pregnant woman and start “nesting” which really just means I start cleaning things and develop an overwhelming desire to turn my house upside down, shake it out and start fresh with NOTHING because I CAN. NOT. STAND. THE . CLUTTER. Now mind you, this is the same clutter I live with the rest of the month with apparently no issues whatsoever, which probably contributes to the problem.

Right now I’m fighting the physical clutter, as well as the digital and mental. I long to become a well-oiled machine of organized precision—our household operations will be streamlined, my thousands of photos will be sorted through with all the bad shots discarded and all the keepers organized in such a way that I can actually do something with them—although I have no idea WHAT that would be. And I will be so organized that I can make time for the most important thing of all…spending better quality time with my kids.

It’s that last one that really eats at me every month. I read other people’s blogs (and Family Fun magazine because I’m a masochist, apparently) and see all the great things they’re doing with their kids and families (this can range from craft projects to family outings to little things that create special memories) and I feel like a total loser.

Honestly, if I can get some work done in the morning, get a load of laundry washed and have dinner ready early, I feel like I’ve moved mountains—which is to say, I don’t exactly challenge myself and yet, squeezing in the planning and execution of special things to do with my kids always gets backburnered. Before I know it, the weekend has come and gone and the weekly grind starts all over again—school, work, errands, housework, dinner, cheer practice and/or Girl Scouts, bedtime—lather, rinse, repeat.

I just don’t know how to make any of this happen and yet it’s all I can think about during my period. Well, that and trying to find extra moments to sleep because I’m JUST. SO. TIRED.

Because it’s all part of the wacky nesting thing, I feel compelled to make a list—I don’t hold out much hope of actually doing most of this stuff but maybe seeing it in writing will make me feel more organized and uh…WHATEVER—I just want to make a freakin’ list!

Things I Want/Need to Do and That Will Hopefully, Somehow, Make These 5-6 Days Per Month More Tolerable—in No Particular Order:

Organize the thousands of photos that currently live on my external hard drive.

Plan a weekly dinner calendar. Grocery shop while kids are at school.

Clean out desk and old school papers, calendars, notices etc from last year.

Clean out overstuffed file cabinet so I can file more stuff that I will probably never look at again.

Finish up washing all the bedding from when we tried to go a week without Pull-Ups (See Also: Thank God for waterproof allergy covers for mattresses).

Plan 1 or 2 cool things to do with the kids every week (i.e. go to the duck pond, go to Busch Gardens in the evening, plant the seeds I got from the Greenworks luncheon I attended at BlogHer 09. (2009, people! This alone speaks volumes) Note: Grocery shopping does NOT qualify as ’something cool’ and bribing kids with bakery cookies so they won’t complain? Not the best parenting technique.

Clean out all the junk from daughter’s room (this alone would take half a day).

Organize all son’s toys so he can actually PLAY in his room.

Plan a fall family camping trip. Think about a vacation for next summer since we didn’t do a damn thing this summer and I spent most of my time shuttling kids around between points A, B and C and dying of near heat stroke.

Start planning Christmas now because when December comes, I will, without a doubt, feel like skipping Christmas altogether.

Implement a work schedule I can stick to so I don’t spend so much time working when the kids are home.

Be more social (i.e. stop ignoring Facebook messages from friends, call people back in a timely manner, make real plans so I can’t claim I’m too busy when loosely organized plans come up.

Stop effing around so much on the internet. Reading news, reading junk on Twitter and bookmarking random crap that I won’t ever go back to is enriching my life HOW? See also: Spend more time writing.

Catch up on Editorial Calendar for The Green Mom Review so I’m not scrambling at 11pm to figure out what we’re posting the next day.

If I do read blogs, which I actually DO, make sure to comment because I don’t want to be one of  those people who swear they read blogs but never comments.

Watch the few shows I enjoy early in the evening so that when bedtime comes, I actually get some sleep instead of watching said shows. See also: GO TO BED EARLIER, DUMMY.

Look into swim lessons for my son, who totally got screwed out of them this summer (and it was really the only thing he wanted to do).

Make dinner earlier on cheer practice nights so we can still eat together.

Play with my son more when his sister is at practice instead of using this time to catch up on laundry while he watches TV and rots his brain.

Volunteer more at school (See also: get more sleep and use time more wisely so I will actually step up and volunteer instead of putting it off because “I’m too busy” —because I wouldn’t BE too busy if I was less tired and used my time more wisely.

Now I need a nap. I can do some of this stuff later, right?

OMG…see how I did that?  SEE? *head meets desk*

I can’t believe these are the only pictures I took at BlogHer 10 but alas, it appears to be true. Excuse any grammatical atrocities in the captions—I really struggled over the whole me vs. I thing since they are captions, not sentences. Blerrrgghhh. Feel free to (gently) correct me.

Okay, since I can’t link to the captions, which HELLO? MAKES NO SENSE, here are the folks featured in my pix:
Megan Deb Jenny Katie Jessica Suebob Adam Anissa Kate Debbie Devra Rita Pillsbury Doughboy

Megan and I, hosting The People's Party

Megan and Deb

Megan, Jenny, Katie, Me and Jessica: The People's Party Hostesses!

Suebob & her awesome tutus

Jenny, and I

Jenny, Adam & Me

Me, Anissa and Katie

Me and Kate

Debbie and me

Me and Deb

Devra, Rita, Mr. Rita, Me and Suebob

Caffeinatrix and Yknot, Twitterbuds!

Katie and Megan

Jessica and Deb

Katie and the Pillsbury Doughboy

So I went to the evil empire the other night, right? No, no, no…not the Scientology headquarters located in lovely downtown Clearwater, a mere 20 minute drive from here (in case you ever want to see the trophy case where they keep John Travolta and Tom Cruise’s REAL brains in those creepy glass jars usually reserved for fetal pigs and two-headed snakes. Note: Would also make for awesome school field trip because BRAAAAAAAINS)

No, I went to that store that rhymes with Schmalmart—and I realize, as a bleeding heart liberal who tries to live as greenly as possible and supports fair trade and loves the mom and pop shops, that I’m committing some serious sacrilege but I had to go there. HAD TO. For roller skates. Because my daughter wants some for her birthday and because I was away at BlogHer on her actual birthday, which means whatever ‘lil missy wants, she WILL get. (Note to kids everywhere: Guilt is a terrific parental motivator!) Also, because it was, like, 9pm and where the frig else can you buy skates at 9pm?

So, after much wandering about, as I’m not well acquainted with the layout of Schmalmart, I finally ask some employees who were clearly more interested in continuing their conversation about whose bad ass rims were THE MOST bad ass, where they keep the roller skates—because this is fricken Schmalmart and THEY HAVE EVERYTHING.

Except they don’t.

Because they DON’T SELL ROLLERSKATES AT SCHMALMART, according to surly guy #1

The hell?

Then, in a feeble attempt to be more helpful and less surly, surly guy #2 suggests I instead go home and peruse Schmalmart.com and mail order some skates.

Well, thank you, sir, for that helpful suggestion but if I wanted to mail order stuff, I would have been all over this task WEEKS AGO. But why would I want to mail order something when, in theory, I should be able to walk amongst the People of Schmalmart, pluck some damn skates off the shelf and JUST BUY THEM.

Also, weeks ago I was much more concerned with MY OWN NEEDS…like buying shoes and dresses and shit for BlogHer. Priorities, people—I HAVE THEM—in case you didn’t know.

Okay…so I resign myself to the fact that I’m not going to get any skates on this particular evening. I’ll just carve out some more kid-free time some other day this week, because we all know how easy it is to come by kid-free time IN THE DAMN SUMMER. *scowl*

So I leave and go to the toy section, thinking since I’m already here and have already committed a green mom’s cardinal sin by setting foot in the front door, that I might as well get the other gift I needed…a card game called Slamwich.

I look and look and look and I don’t see Slamwich but since I’ve never actually laid eyes on a Slamwich game, I have no idea what it looks like.

So, I go back to surly guy #2 who is now ticking off all the reasons he will, in fact, be getting a date with some girl he fancies (I’m sure his bad ass rims will play a huge part in all of this) and ask about Slamwich.

Me: I’m looking for a game called Slamwich. Can you check your computer and see if you have it in stock?

Surly Guy: Slamwich? Like sandwich?

Me: Well, yeah, except it’s Slamwich

Surly Guy: Oh. Okay.

Me: Can you check if you have it in stock?

Surly Guy: Let’s see if it’s on the shelf

Me: I already looked at all the games. I didn’t see it but I’m not sure what it looks like so it would probably be easier if you just looked it up.

Surly Guy: No, I have to look.

Me: *suppresses eyeroll*

Surly Guy: Is it this game? *holds up something called Slam*

Me: No, it’s SlamWICH

Surly Guy: Oh yeah, like sandwich!

Me: *blink*

Surly Guy: Let me call some other stores

Me: If I have to drive across town to another Schmalmart, I really don’t want it.

Surly Guy: Okay, I’ll call and see if any other store has it

Me: Are you high?

Surly Guy: What? *thinks about it for a second* No, definitely NOT high.

Me: Okay, but you should know that you SEEM really high

Surly Guy: Oh. Haha. Yeah. That’s funny. No, wait. I mean it’s funny but I’m not. Here, let me call them right now. *dials number, asks someone to help him locate “SANDWICH” and gets put on hold*

Me: No, it’s Slamwich

Surly Guy: What?

Me: Dude, seriously, LOOK IT UP ON THE COMPUTER

Surly Guy: I can’t.

Me: Why not?

Surly Guy: I’m not allowed

Me: Why?

Surly Guy: Because we can’t look up inventory

Me: You’re not allowed to look up inventory?

Surly Guy: Yes. I mean no, our computer doesn’t do that

Me: What???? Every big box store can do that

Surly Guy: Not ours

Me: So you mean to tell me that the largest retailer ON THE PLANET cannot look up something on the computer and see if it’s in stock?

Surly Guy: Nope

Me: No, seriously

Surly Guy: *hangs up phone*

Me: Wait, did they answer you? Does anyone have this stupid game? *clearly annoyed*

Surly Guy: No, I just got tired of waiting

Me: So you just hung up?

Surly Guy: *smiles* Yeah!

Me: So now what?

Surly Guy: Uh…go to the front desk. They can look it up for you

Me: Are you joking? Why didn’t you tell me this, like, ten minutes ago? Also, NO…because in my experience, those people are completely useless

Surly Guy: Yeah *laughs*

Me: Are you sure you’re not high?

…

So I hurried across the street to Target, which is in extreme renovation mode (translation: totally sucks right now) and also where I’m not supposed to be shopping at anyway because they gave money to anti-gay groups, and bought some damn skates. I feel bad about breaking my boycott but as noted, parental guilt is a seriously effective motivator and apparently I am willing to compromise ALL my principles in order to avoid it.

Related: I suck.

BUT I GOT THE SKATES!

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get Sandwich *sigh*

Soooo…the other day my daughter and  her friend were in her room playing this “Party Truth or Dare” game that she got as a b-day gift. It’s kid version so there’s no “I dare you to give so-and-so a lap dance” kind of stuff going on—well, not that I know of—I mean I didn’t look at EVERY card.

Anyway, my daughter and her friend are reading the cards and giggling and asking each other questions and then a question comes up that reads something like “Name one thing you’ve done that your parents don’t know about” and my daughter answers something not all that bad (but that I definitely didn’t know about) and they giggle some more and her friend says conspiratorially, “Your mom doesn’t know about that?” and before I knew it, the words were coming out of my mouth…

“I do NOW” I said loud enough for them to hear me,.

*crickets*

And then the door curtly closes shut.

And I sat here wondering why the hell I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut, particularly since this is just the beginning of such things.

OMFGIAMSTUPIDSTUPIDSTUPID.

….

I tried to find a non-pervy truth or dare image for this post and uh…I don’t think those exist. Let’s just say the internet is clearly MADE for perverts and if you are one of them and came here via some gross Google search, I hope you were totally disappointed.

A couple years ago, I wrote a post about how I didn’t want my daughter to get involved in cheerleading even though all her friends were doing it.

I listed a variety of reasons why I thought sports would be a better choice and how all the cheerleading I’d observed involved a lot of inappropriate (read: stripper-like) dance moves and of course, the outdated gender roles issue—the boys  PLAY the sport while the girls cheer for them on the sidelines. I think you get the picture…

Well, two years later, my daughter is a cheerleader. She hadn’t ever shown much interest in any sports or physical activities other than cheering and gymnastics and honestly, we just can’t afford gymnastics so I finally gave in and signed her up to cheer.

She hasn’t cheered at any games yet but she’s been going to practice 4 evenings a week for a few weeks now and she seems to really love it. She’s also showing a lot of self-discipline and hasn’t complained at all about the rigorous practice schedule—unlike her mother, who’s ALREADY over it and totally dreading those 8:30am games every Saturday.

As far as my concerns about all the hoochie dance moves, the coaches don’t approve of them either so I’m heartened that we’re all on the same page in that respect.

I don’t know how it will be down the road but for now, I’m okay with her cheering. I’m glad she’s getting some physical activity every day and making new friends and I’m happy that she’s happy.

In other words, this is me eating my words along with a nice big slice of humble pie (although I reserve the right to contradict and/or totally recant everything I’ve said here at any time!)

I must now go pack for BlogHer 10! Hope to see you all there :)

–

PS: I wanted to let you all know that I recently resurrected Moms Speak Up

Oh reeeeeally?

So…my son didn’t get into the same school my daughter goes to. When we got her in there four years ago, the rule was that if one sibling was admitted, younger siblings would be admitted, too. Unfortunately, that rule has changed (due to class size amendments) so now I have two kids at two different schools.

My son will never have the experience of going to school with his sister. I know it’s silly but this upsets me—I was always envious of the kids that had brothers and/or sisters in the same school and I was excited that mine would be together for two years. My hopes and dreams? DASHED.

I try not to dwell on the negative aspects of life too much but recently, I feel like the universe and I are at odds; like I’m running into roadblocks at every turn—nothing is going the way I want it to and everything is a challenge, as evidenced by my crying big, fat, stupid tears of frustration yesterday at my son’s school while trying to get him registered.

Note to nice school office personnel: I swear I’m not unstable or crazy. Ahem. I’m just incredibly frustrated with our health insurance, our kids’ new pediatricians, the health department’s infinite loop phone system and my new eyeglasses, which make my eyes ache constantly thanks to a heaping helping of astigmatism correction. And that’s the super short list...

Generally speaking, I believe that going with the flow of life is the thing to do; that you should carefully pick the things you want to fight against and accept the rest because there just isn’t enough energy in the world to take on every damn thing.

But lately, I have a lot of things I can’t just throw to the wind, they need to be dealt with and they really need to go a certain way. It’s been exhausting and challenging, to say the least. I don’t know how people live like this all the time.

I’m trying really hard to change my attitude, to get back to where I was, but being positive actually takes a certain amount of purposeful thinking and action and I just don’t have it in me right now. Maybe going to Blogher next week will help with that…a change of scenery, a change of pace and for all intents and purposes, a vacation in my favorite city. Crossing my fingers. And toes.

Social networking… Every day is like a mini class reunion—so much fun and yet so much potential for shame.

Yeah, it recently occurred to me that when I meet up with old friends on Facebook I’m kind of embarrassed about never having left the town in which I went to college.

I might as well just put “Hi! I just stayed here f*cking marinating in this place while the rest of you went uh…wherever it is that you went and led what appear to be vastly more interesting lives. So how have you been?” in my bio and be done with it.

I didn’t join the freaking Peace Corp. I didn’t go backpacking across Thailand. I didn’t get my PhD or even my masters. I didn’t intern in Washington. I didn’t set up a charity to help build a school for deaf Albanian orphans. I didn’t travel the world as a photojournalist for a major media outlet.

I got a degree. Didn’t work in my field. Got married. Had a couple jobs that inspired homicidal fantasies on a frighteningly regular basis. Got pregnant. Quit working. Did a preschool co-op for a while. Founded a Moms Club chapter (that alone is reason for shame), had another baby, started blogging…and the rest is, as they say, history.

*gently smacks you*

Wake up!!! I know my life is boring and all but you don’t need to rub it in by snoring in the middle of my shamefest!

You know what happens when news coverage of a shocking topic is on 24-7 for months? People become numb to it. They get tired of hearing about it. They feel powerless. Any outrage they may have felt is replaced by resignation.

I know this because it’s how I feel about the “war on terror.” But that’s been going on for almost 10 years. I think indifference is to be expected after that long as there is only so much emotional browbeating people can take every single night on the news. That indifference is, IMO, a form of self-preservation because who can maintain a consistent sense of active outrage for ten years? Most people just can’t.

But the Gulf Oil Spill Disaster (yes, I capitalized it—it deserves to be capitalized) is merely months old and yes, even I have reached my saturation point on many occasions where I just had to retreat and stop thinking about it.

That said, I can, to some degree, understand the indifference I encounter on, say, Twitter when we tweet horrific things about #oilspill but it hurts my heart to see how many people are COMPLETELY detached from what’s going on out there.

This disaster is NOT going away anytime soon and the effects are not going to be limited to MY backyard. The entire world will eventually be affected by this so even if you think this is not your problem because you live in the middle of the country where there are no beaches or fishing industry or stunningly beautiful marine life, you are wrong—it is hurting people YOU know. It is hurting YOUR breathing air. It is hurting YOUR food supply. It is hurting YOUR country.

Again, I understand how easy it is to allow yourself to detach from the intensity of this situation. I really do. I’m guilty of it myself at times but I have to ask…WHERE IS THE COLLECTIVE OUTRAGE? Why are we not standing together AS A NATION and demanding the cover-ups and cost-cutting and responsbility-shirking and victim-blaming STOP? Because THOSE THINGS *ARE* GOING ON.

That’s not to say people aren’t doing anything. There have been a ton of people doing things to try and help but honestly, insofar as I can tell, nothing is going to truly get any better until we demand that our governmental agencies, BP and the media cut the crap—helping BP to cover this up serves nobody’s interests except theirs.

People are getting sick, wildlife is dying, poison “dispersants” are being dumped into OUR water, trained and qualified volunteers are not being allowed to help, respirators are being denied, insurance and loss claims are not being acknowledged and NOBODY SEEMS TO CARE.

Well—and this is where I get nasty—I’m sorry that you’re tired of hearing about this and I’m sorry it’s not as entertaining as, say, The Bachelorette but if you want reality programming…THIS IS IT, PEOPLE. Get off your couch potato asses and write a letter, make a phone call, tweet something, call your representatives, sign a f*cking petition, write a blog post expressing your disgust and outrage—assuming you can muster any up—but please, for the love of your flat screen television, don’t ignore it.

DO SOMETHING—because at some point, this will be YOUR problem, too.

And if you do nothing, you really are letting the “terrorists” (read: BP) win because OUR indifference and complacency is what they’re banking on.

/rant

If you want to hear a first-person civilian account of what BP has been up to for the past two months or so, watch these videos. Kindra Arnesen, a Louisiana resident and wife to a Gulf shrimp fisherman, was invited inside the BP machine and apparently they forgot to censor themselves in her presence because she saw and heard things that will shock you.  These were already covered by some major media outlets already last month but they speak volumes about where BP really stands on all of this and if you haven’t seen them, you need to.

The first video discusses worst case scenarios in the Gulf regarding hurricanes, acid rain etc. and it’s heavy stuff. The second video is Kindra Arnesen discussing her time as an insider at BP.  As noted, what she saw and heard is jaw dropping. PLEASE WATCH BOTH!

These are not ranty, conspiracy nut videos appearing on some left-wing fringe group’s site (as Fox News would have you believe). The web site on which they appear is just a convenient place to send you to see both videos. These have been covered by the mainstream media already (in June 2010). This is the real deal.

–

We have to do something but like everyone else, I feel largely helpless in the face of such unfathomable tragedy. One thing I DO know? The people living right on affected waterways in places like Louisiana are getting sick from breathing the benzene—and dispersants, I assume. They need to be moved away from there.

Donations to the Gulf Coast Oil Spill Fund will go, primarily, to help the fishermen and residents of the most affected parishes in Louisiana—Plaquemines, St. Bernard, lower Jefferson, Terrebonne, and Lafourche. Please make a donation—if 1 million people gave $10 each, it would do a world of good in helping the sickened residents and those who have lost their livelihoods to rebuild their lives.

If you know of any other reputable charities to help oil spill victims, please let me know.

–

Just a few of the MANY petitions out there, if you care to sign…

Allow Media Access to Oil Spill Clean-Up

Hold Big Oil Accountable to Paying Full Price

Tell EPA: Take Away BP’s Billions in Federal Contracts

I could post links all day and not even come close to being done so I’ll stop here and get this up. Feel free to share must-see links to news, video, blog posts, petitions etc in the comments.

And I apologize for being so harsh up there. I’m frustrated. I hope you understand.

–

If you would please TWEET, STUMBLE and DIGG this post, I would be eternally grateful!

In chronological order…

Baby Bump - For the EFFINGLOVEOFGOD, it’s not a BUMP. It’s a baby and a belly and just…JUST STOP SAYING IT. Because it bothers me. A lot.

Push Presents - Um, newsflash—the BABY is the reward! But on the off chance that your new baby isn’t enough of a bonus for you, the long-term reward comes in about 25 years or so, when it becomes apparent, I HOPE, that instead of a soulless sociopath, you’ve raised a decent human being!

Boob Juice - If you know me at all, you know I’m a total supporter of breastfeeding and BF rights etc but seriously, calling it boob juice just makes my toes curl. I beg you…please stop impeding my ability to wear shoes.

Huggies Faux Denim Diapers - Okay, I admit they’re kind of cute in their own silly way but they beg the question… were you planning on taking your baby out in just a diaper? No pants or bloomers? No diaper cover? Because that’s the only way anyone is going to see the faux denim diapers and I have a thing about babies going around in their diapers. I mean, do YOU go around in nothing but your underwear? And then poop in them?

Your Baby Can Read! - Okay, first of all, those kids in the commercial are not babies. Second of all, stop being show-offs, people. The rest of us who had to  raise our kids without Your Baby Can Read already feel bad enough that our kids are just, you know, REGULAR smart, as opposed to WEIRD CHILD PRODIGY smart.

–

Latest Post: BULLETIN: The BP Oil Spill is Your Problem, Too

First off, let me say that I’m not a fan of McDonald’s. Other than the Southwestern salad, I find their food largely unappetizing. Now, that doesn’t mean I won’t eat a fry or two because okay…their fries are pretty tasty. But the burgers are weird and have little hard things in them and the nuggets, despite claims to be all breast meat, have the occasional weird rubbery thing in them AND, I read somewhere (and this  MAY be an urban legend) that, were you to put one in a sealed glass container, their burgers look exactly the same a year later, as in NOT DECOMPOSING.

So yeah..ungoodness all around—and we haven’t even discussed the Happy Meals for little kids promoting PG-13 movies thing or the obesity thing or the not-humanely-raised eggs issue.

Okay, so now I’ve painted a pretty accurate picture of how I feel about the golden arches. Not exactly “lovin’ it”.

But then they went and did something totally diabolical.

MORE diabolical, I mean.

They introduced the Frappé.

It comes in mocha and caramel.

And I hate myself for saying this but THEY. ARE. GOOD.

And cheap.

And easy to get.

Not unlike a visit to your conveniently located neighborhood crack house.

I don’t know how many calories are in them and I don’t want to know. I just want my fricken daily Frappé.

It’s cold, creamy coffee goodness soothing the helltastic summer heat…

It’s caffeine, however meager, coursing through my veins and perking up my wilting, heat-stricken spirits…

Like any good junkie, I have a love/hate relationship with my dealer.

I hate them until I need a fix and then, despite all attempts at resistance, I find myself taking a different route so I can hit the drive thru.

And like any good junkie, I feel guilty and ashamed when it’s all gone and make promises to quit.

I NEED an intervention. PLEASE!

Right after I finish this giant mocha Frappé—you know—last hurrahs and such…