I want more!
Nov 1, 2009 All Things Charli, All Things X, Current Events, Family, Parenting, Wicked MOMMY Wisdoms
Halloween has come and gone. Autumn and the holidays are officially among us.
I. Am. Stoked. I love Autumn. LOVE. Crisp. Colors. Leaves. Pumpkins. 
Last night, we took Charli Trick or Treating. This is her 2nd official year ToT’ing but this year it clicked. Once she realized that all she needed to do was look cute and say “Trick or Treat!” some random person would give her skittles or a sucker or chocolate.
SHE. WAS. STOKED.
After every house … she would yell “I want MORE, MOMMY!”
Of course you do Charli.
One thing that I noticed while out ToT’ing was a group of kids out and about, no costumes … and grocery bags full of candy. They were also knocking on the door’s and saying “ToT!”…
No costumes? Really?
It reminded me of when I was younger. My dad used to love to scare the shit out of the ToT’ers when they would come to the door. But, if you showed up sans costume … he would tell you all about yourself.
So I vocalized it. Tarable pointed out that maybe they were too poor to have a costume. I said “oh hell no.” And this is why.
I was dirt fucking poor when I was a kid. Like, go’ment cheese poor. Cheeseburgers on white bread poor. MacNCheese at least 2 times a week poor. And not Kraft either. My point is that we always figured out how to get a costume together.
Like the time my mom made me a bag of jellybeans. Out of a clear trash bag and colored balloons.
Or the many times I was a hobo or a hippie. You don’t need $50 or more to put a creative costume together. You can really get a unique costume together without spending much at all. It just takes a little bit of thought behind it.
My most favorite thing about Halloween is the costumes. I love seeing all of the kids in their versions of things. Last night we saw a group of teenagers that all made up a fruit basket. There was a banana, a watermelon, an apple, and the boy was the basket. You could tell they made them. It was really kick ass, actually. That is what it is about. You can go to the store and buy a god damn bag of candy. The spirit of Halloween is to get dolled or spooked and experience each other in their creativity.
Not to put a hoodie on and grab a plastic safeway bag so you can get your free candy for the year. That is some bullshit. I wouldn’t give you a damn teeny tiny kernel of candy corn. Period. And don’t be friggen 16-17 either.
Now … Some of you may be asking yourself … where was Xavier?
Xavier was/is experiencing yet another installment of creative parenting. You would think that he would have gotten it by now. It being me not being the motherfucking one. Buuuuuuuut he hasn’t. So yet again he is a guinea pig of my creative ideas on how to let the punishment fit the crime.
In conversations about the book (if you aren’t in the know click and catch up), I have let it be known that the $10 that appeared out of nowhere was someones. Not his. It was someones lunch money. It was someones $10 for a book that he used for a book that I already told him that I would buy him.
Bottom line, it wasn’t his. But he couldn’t wait. Out of his mouth “I didn’t want to wait til tomorrow.” Really?
As you may know, we last left off at the ass whoopin’. Since then, D and I have come to the conclusion that Xavier is pretty ungrateful for what he has. Therefore, his belongings will sit in boxes in his room. He will not get anything new. For a long time. He has since been let off of restriction from his room, but that is about it.
We also came to the conclusion that he does not deserve a “Christmas”. Instead of getting presents this year, Xavier will be giving them. To less fortunate children at a women/children shelter. D and I will come up with a dollar amount that we would have spent on his gifts and that money will be used for them. He will pick out the gifts and hand them out. He will serve Christmas dinner.
In my opinion, Xavier has been spoiled with material things in his 9 years and it is time to make a life long impression.
I hope that it does. Truly.
How was your Halloween?
What was the most creative costume you saw this year?
What is your favorite Halloween treat?
Tags: autumn, candy, costume, halloween, teenager, trick or treat
A Blog About Parents: “It Is What It Is”
Jun 29, 2009 Family, Out with the Old Wicked in with the New Wicked, Parenting, Thoughts and Perceptions, Wicked Wisdoms, love
My parents weren’t go-out-and-do-shit parents. Meaning, you know how there are those one parents where every weekend they had this hike or that museum planned to go and do? Yeah. My parents weren’t those parents. For most of my youth, we were poor so it was hard to do stuff.
Looking back I could say that I wished that they were those parents. But I don’t. Not really. We have never really been ‘that family’. We did go and do things. The things we did do were fun times. So I like the fact that what we did meant something… because I think that, from the outside looking in … many of those families are not happy ones behind closed doors. Generally speaking anyway.
(Yes I am aware that this is not all cases and that there are those truly happy 50’s white picket fence chocolate chip cookies when you got home from school families.)
When I was really little my dad drove truck so he was gone during the week a lot of the time. I remember missing him a great deal, and I think that him being gone is the main reason why I was drawn to him the way that I was. I would wait and wait to see or hear his semi truck pull up outside and run as fast as my little feet could move me across the gravel into his bear-arms.
I have always thought that my dad was the coolest dad on the planet.
I remember this one time when he came home, he wanted to take me and my mom out to dinner. As promised, we went to dinner in his truck. When we got there, he came around to get me out of the passenger side. I was so small then; the length of the step from the truck to the bottom step seemed a mile long. I blindly, and in an excited hurry grabbed the steam/exhaust pipe instead of the handle.
I can still feel the pain on the palm of my hand when I think about it to this day.
I screamed and cried as he rescued me and rushed me into the restaurant where I promptly placed my hand in a big glass of ice water. He sat right next to me and told me jokes to try and make me forget about the burn.
“How about I punch you in the other arm. You won’t feel your hand then.”
We used to wrestle.
He used to give me “Monkey Bumps” cause he thought that shit was funny.
He helped me with my math homework. I really suck at math.
He likes to sing. He has a pretty good voice.
He tried to get me to golf. I sucked.
My dad taught me how to drive.
He made me walk to the store when I got my period to buy tampons.
We fish. A lot less than I would like, but…
As I grew into into me, only a hormonal teenager, we began to beef on a daily basis. I don’t know where the rift began, but I know where it ended: When I moved out. He and I are so much alike that it is frightening. Our strong personalities under one roof with one of them being an authoritative figure was like mixing oil and water.
I pushed, he pushed harder. I yelled, he yelled louder. I slammed doors, he slammed harder. But when push came to shove, I knew that he loved me. Maybe that is why I pushed so hard. Maybe … that is why he pushed back that much harder.
Would I change it? Nah. I think that all of the tumultiousness that was our father daughter relationship made us that much more awesome today. He has put up with a great deal of shit with me and my wanting-to-do-it-the-hard-way every time.
When I enlisted in the Navy, and actually followed through with leaving for boot camp,and then tech school… and then a ship… I think that he realized that there was something within me that I actually took away from the things he used to preach to me as a kid. When I returned home, and saw him for the first time, wrapped in his bear-arms again, I truly felt like a little girl again and I remembered that I loved him. We just kinda fell into something pretty great from that moment.
But it wasn’t perfect. *I* wasn’t that great of a daughter all of the time.
I got married before D and didn’t tell my parents until afterward. My selfish ass didn’t consider that maybe my dad wanted to walk me down the isle.
I got my dad fired from Metro. (I didnt know at the time) He had bags of bus fare in his room to turn in, and I stole so.much.change. What I didn’t know, is that he almost faced criminal charges for it. (I later found this out after jokingly telling him that I was the one who stole the change)
The cops were called to my house several times. Because of my fight instigation.
I am pretty sure that I told my dad that I hated him angrily… one time too many.
Above all, my dad has always embraced me for me. He has expressed his thoughts as to who he thought that I should become, but understood (after some adjustment) and accepted who I chose to be and how I chose to live my life and conduct my business. I think that I can say that he is proud of me.
But most importantly, my dad is an honest man. He treats my mom with the utmost respect. My dad (thinks he) is funny. He lives life with an “it is what it is” motto. He isn’t perfect, but he always stands up for what is right and what he believes in. I may not like it at the time… but that doesn’t matter. I know when I call him and I ask him for his advice, he is gonna give it to me. No sugar coating. No bullshit. None of it.
And that is more than I can say for most people in the world.
What kind of relationship do you have with the dad in your life?
Have you ever done something that made your dad burst with pride?
What is the worst thing you ever did as a teen/kid and got busted for?
Tags: adolesence. mom, dad, daughter, father, fight, love, mom, mom and dad, Parenting, respect, teenager
A Blog About Parents: Part 1
Jun 23, 2009 Family
My parents specifically. At Squish’s request.
This is an intro kinda to who they are in relationship to me and how we got here.
I am still pondering what specifically intrigues her about my parents … other than how freaking awesome they happen to be. Mostly anyway. I didn’t always think that they were though. In fact back in the day, I used to think that my parents were the strictest, dumbest people on the planet to ever live in the history of parents.
‘Used to’ being the key phrase.
My parents and I have an interesting relationship. I know now that when I don’t like something that they have to say… I politely with an attitude say good bye and hang up or leave. Usually when I dont like what I am hearing it is because they are telling me the truth. I am going to eventually want to hear the truth, but sometimes my dad chooses to shove it down my throat at the most inopportune fucking times sometimes. I love that with us, what you see is what you get. I don’t have to lie. I don’t have to pretend that everything is wonderful. If they want to drop by, I don’t feel like I need to rush around and make my house pristine. It might just be fucking messy. And if it is… they don’t judge me for it. My parents just kinda get it. And me. They get that I am pretty much not going to front about shit, and that, no matter what… I am always going to be me. I love that my parents have just accepted and embraced me for who I am… and not try to mold me into something that they think I should be.
Because of the above, I can say that I am blessed. And mean it. I know this because when I talk to other people about how they have to hide a part of themselves in order to please their parents … I have had to bite my tongue … because I am confused as to who in the hell these parents think they are for making their kids lives such turmoil that they can never really be themselves around them?
If you were to ask me who I am more like … my mom or my dad … I would have to say my dad. My dad and I didn’t really begin our relationship until I got back from boot camp. When I was little, I was all about some “daddy’s girl”. Even as a teenager, I knew that with just the right tone… I could pretty much get what I wanted. When it was good it was great. When it was bad though, ask anyone who was around us back then. It was bad.
I remember one time during one of our biggest fights, my dad and I were in each others faces. We were yelling. I am sure I told him to fuck himself. If I would have had the ability to step out of my body to see what I was doing, I probably would not have been in my dads face like that. With no fear. No capacity about how my father (have you ever seen my dad?) could have broken my little 16 year old ass in half if I said just the right (read: wrong) thing to set him off in that moment.
And believe me. I tried as hard as I could to make my dad the purplest piece in life as often as I could. Did I pick fights with him? Yep. I sure did. Why? I don’t know. Maybe it was because as much as I knew that he could knock me cold the hell out with one punch… he never would.
This also leads me to my next thought. The reason I never fought with my mom this way was because she would knock me out. And she did. It only took once. I don’t remember what I said, but it was something to the effect of calling her a “bitch” and/or “fuck you” during a disagreement. She hauled off and slapped the shit out of me.
I am pretty sure that the only time I ever cuss at my mom in an angry moment now is when we are on the phone. And even then. My mom has a mean left hook. I am not really trying to fuck with her.
So I am frustrated with this blog and I am going to end it here. Squish, if you are out there… I need some direction. What intrigues you? What do you want to know? I could go in so many ways… and because of that I am not even sure if this blog even makes sense.
Do you want to hear more about the parents? If so, what?
What kind of relationship do you have with your parents?
If you could pick celebrity parents, who would they be and why? (They dont have to be a couple)
The Bank of Payback
Mar 22, 2009 All Things Charli, All Things X, Family, Parenting, Ranteriffic, Wicked MOMMY Wisdoms
When Xavier gets to the point to where he is talking on the phone… I am going to interrupt his conversations at every opportunity. For absolutely no reason what-so-ever.Especially when he is on an important call. To tell him things like how next year I am going to try to remember to cleanse my colon as often as possible. Just to be safe. I am gonna tap into the call and remind him that I need to make an appointment to get a Brazilian wax. Heh.
Payback’s a bitch. And so am I.
When Charli grows up, I am going to march around her room on the weekends at the ass crack of dawn, banging pots and pans around while I sing made-up songs about how I didn’t get to sleep in on the weekends when she was a baby just long enough to make her really really mad at me. Just long enough to where she cannot fall back asleep. Just long enough to leave the mark.
D and I were talking about the other things that we could do to get her cute little brown butt back. He was dancin’ around the kitchen while free-styling ‘betcha aint sleepin now’ lyrics.
I want to wake her ass up at 3 AM when she is like… 15 and make her do push-ups. Only 25, but push-ups nonetheless.
I think that it would be really funny to fall out in a tantrum in front of her friends. Or in public. Or anywhere other than the privacy of our own home that would simply mortify her… Just randomly spazz out in a scream-fest for no reason. Or, no reason to her… but a serious reason to me.
I would also like to keep embarrassing photos of her. Both of my kids actually. Blown up. Framed. And when they have friends over, replace the normal pictures on the walls with the ones of them in mortify poses with hilarious outfits or facial expressions.
Oooh. Or even, when she is at that age where she hates me soooooooooo much… and wants me to be as far away from her as humanly possible…. insist on sitting RIGHT next to her. Touching her arm, or my leg to her leg. Poking her eyes, and shoving my fingers in her mouth… preferrably in front of her friends.
Now I know what my mom was talking about when she said that I was gonna have one just like me. Only, this time… I am not going to forget the times that all I wanted to do was sleep a couple of extra hours, or just have a little bit of personal space. Just a little. I love my kids, but for fucks sake, I do not like to have them both sitting practically on top of me at every opportunity.
Payback’s a bitch. And so am I.
The Bank of Payback is collecting a shit ton of interest as we speak. I have a seperate account there for payback on actual adults that deserve a little bit of it too. But that is for an entirely different blog.
And, as I end this ha-ha funny blog, Charli sits at her door… knocking and yelling because her stubborn ass doesnt feel like it is her bedtime. The fun never stops in the Wicked household. It never stops.
Do you have an account at TBoPB?
Anything you would ‘like’ to withdraw from the bank and use on them?
Get some.
Tags: account, bank, bitch, drill seargent, mommy, Parenting, payback, payback's a bitch, tantrum, teenager, wish, withdrawl
