The Snarky Momma occasionally (okay, sometimes) reviews products on her review blog related to parenting, domestic goddess-try, and personal care. Her opinions are honest, based on her own experiences, and will be published even if she does not find the product satisfactory. She will always disclose how she got a product and whether she was compensated to talk about it. If you want to send her a product, contact her via email at tiffany [at] snarkymomma [dot] com.
Monday, August 31, 2009
I don’t get it.
Really, I don’t.
I live my life trying to be a nice person. I try to be empathetic, do things for others - you know, that kind of thing. I’m really and truly not an asshole. I’m just not.
I’m trying not to turn this into another open letter, but let me say this: the next time I see someone complaining about how many kids they have or how hard their life is because of their number of kids I’m going to open up a can of something fierce on them.
Please look at your last five message board contributions, blog posts, text messages, tweets, or Facebook status updates.
If more than 60% of them are of the “woe is me” caliber (excluding the “I don’t feel like showering today” sort), I hereby banish you to the Internet dungeon—your laundry room or a windowless bathroom. Stay in there until I tell you to come out. Print this post and take it with you for education while you’re in there. Leave your smart phones and other internet-capable devices outside, thanks.
Now, I understand that as the Snarky Momma I have a certain reputation for complaining about shit. Rightfully so. People who know me well know that I keep my mouth shut (or fingers still) until I can’t take it anymore, and then I rant. Doing so prevents stress-related pimples and boils from forming on my chin. At the same time, I’m quite aware of the fact that I have a pretty damned good life. I was raised by someone who really wanted the best for me, I have a husband who brings home the bacon reliably (and sometimes ham), and a son who’s too cute for his own good. I also have lots of friends who make me laugh until my eyes water. And two cats who…who are cats.
It’s understandable that folks go through tough times - I know, I’ve been through a few myself - but you can’t WALLOW in it and drown everyone else around you in the process.
How do you know if you’re wallowing? Well, let’s put it this way: you complained, so people helped you out, and then you complained some more. At that point you’re just pitiful and people get bored with it. If all you do is complain and not take ACTION then that makes you lazy. I’m sorry to say it, sweeties, but it’s true. I don’t like dispensing advice because people rarely take it, but I’m telling it like it is. You can’t keep complaining about shit unless you’re in the process of digging yourself out of it. If you’re just standing there looking at the pile of shit with no intention of clearing it away, then that makes you at fault. When you start digging, though, then you can bitch all you want, and hell - I’ll even bitch with you. Till then? Zip it.
We can’t sit around and wait for stuff to happen to us. Seriously, we can’t. If you’re in a negative situation, be it romantic, financial, familial or otherwise, while you’re in that Internet dungeon you need to brainstorm one way to turn things around. It could be something as simple as changing your underwear - I don’t even care what it is. Just spark change for yourself and everyone around you will be happier for it.
Last night I had a dream that I was in the chorus line of a Broadway musical. I was called in as a substitute at the last minute with no time to learn the choreography (fortunately there wasn’t much other than sitting around with legs strategically placed just-so).
One of the on-stage stunts required the line to climb a ten-foot wall/screen using only our fingernails, and spring off a trampoline at the top and land gracefully in the shadows behind.
I went, I looted and plundered, and this is all I got.
Back from Old Navy - mildly disappointed, but anyhoo. The good news is that they’re so short-staffed during weekdays that there’s no one on the floor to stalk you. The bad news is that their toddler boys section is mostly filled with toddler girls clothes. No joke.
Here’s what I got for about $102 (minus my $10 coupon):
Two pairs of maternity pants from the clearance rack. No, I don’t have any announcements to make. I believe in the power of positive thinking. Besides, my good karma stockpile is overflowing and I’m due for a withdrawal. It makes sense to buy these when they’re cheap, anyway, and NOT pay $36.50 per pair when you’re desperate. Also, these are the “Nine Month” lowrise cuts, so I can wear these when I’m un-pregnant and bloated. Trust me - I tried them on.
(Incidentally, women’s jeans are on sale for $19 until Thursday - INCLUDING maternity. Get ye to thee Olde Naviee.)
One fall knit dress to wear on days when my knees don’t look fat. (I’m not really a dress person, but it looked comfortable. I figured it’d be good with a pair of leggings.)
For Rosco - 1 set of pajamas, 1 pair of jeans, a thermal shirt and long-sleeved crew shirt, a Wolverine T-shirt (Sorry, Scott - the The Empire Strikes Back ones were for boys 5 and up), and a pair of herringbone shorts for next year (clearance, natch, size 4T).
I would been happier if they’d actually had little boys underwear in stock. They had NONE at New Hope Commons (for my Durham readers), but had plenty of girls panties. I smell a conspiracy. How hard is it for you to stock some freaking tightie whities OLD NAVY NEW HOPE COMMONS DURHAM?! And crew socks! Dang!
(I can complain. When I worked at Old Navy, I was the the accessories lead before I left. I hung those freaking socks and stuffed panties back into the containers after folks opened them up. I was the one who had to count trillions of little bottles of nailpolish during inventory. Stock some freaking boys underwear, will ya?!)
Actually, I hate shopping in-person. I hate sales associates stalking me and asking if I need help with anything (when I obviously don’t). Even more so, I hate it when there are NO associates anywhere to be found and the only sizes they have on the rack are definitely nothing I can wear (this is a negative of being as short and slight as junior high schoolers).
Scott had some points he had to cash in or risk losing, so he redeemed them for a Gap Inc gift card, so…yeah. I have a $10 Old Navy coupon I can use, too, and figure I might as well shop in the store so I can save that AND the cost of shipping. So. Yeah. I know Rosco is going to be thrilled about being stuffed into one of those weird shopping carts.
So, I’m going to go.
Right after I finish this cup of tea. And maybe wash the dishes. I might need to change the sheets, too. Ooh? Is that a stain on the carpet? I should work on that.
Damn it. I have to go. I can’t order jeans online. Just my freaking luck they’re always either too big or too small.
I was browsing the mommy forums, as if my custom when I’m procrastinating in making my grocery list, and I saw someone make a comment that her son was due soon. I then remembered that their due date was right around when mind would have been. That made me look at today’s date: August 23rd. That was the due date for the first failed pregnancy I had this year (the blighted ovum). [And did I ever tell you my neighbor down the street also had the same exact due date as me? Haven’t seen her in a few months. Last time I saw her was in an awkward encounter at the grocery store.]
How do I feel?
Not exactly sad. More like annoyed. Not certain at whom since it’s no one’s fault, but I just feel a certain sense of unfairness. At the same time, we’ve benefited from R having this additional year to himself as he’s a kid who’s pretty possessive over his mom’s time. He probably would have been pretty rebellious as a result of having to have my attention divided so early. Now that he’s a little older and understands that although he’s my little stinker-winker, sometimes people have to juggle multiple obligations.
Eh. Anyway. I think this calls for chocolate cake and an expensive bottle of hair conditioner.
Last night (say, 1 am or so) I was up watching The Nanny on Nick at Nite when I heard mumbling across the hall. I muted the television, ratcheting my attention towards the noise to make sure it wasn’t someone trying to break in through Scott’s office window. Then I heard knocking followed by more mumbling.
Rosco. “Need to use the pottty,” the little voice was saying.
What he really meant was, “Damn, I woke up and there was piss in my Pull-Up. Not cool, Momma.” One trip to the potty and one clean Pull-Up later he was in our bed. He was wired so I knew if I put him back in his room I’d be hearing all sorts of thuds and bumps in the night.
It’s generally nice to have a soft, cuddly little body with you in bed, but not one who throws covers off you when you’re the one sleeping closest to the air vent.
He says to pass this on to my mommy friends, so here ya go:
This sweet, stray kitty has been living on our cul-de-sac for a few weeks now. Me and my neighbor have been feeding him outside as neither of us can bring him in due to the critters we already have (I wouldn’t want to risk his life with my evil cat). He is very friendly, I sit on the porch and hold him each day. He does not appear to be full grown and HE is unaltered. None of the rescue groups I have contacted are able to take him and my neighbor called the SPCA who said they would have to euthanize him if we brought him in. He does not seem to be afraid of my 100 pound dog when they have come in contact in the yard and will even walk up to the glass door when my dog is inside barking at him.
If you know of anyone who would be interested he would make a very nice pet for someone!
Somewhere in Wake County:
Our two evil hussies would rip him up. If you want a cat, holla at me.
Saint though she was, that was one of the lines my beloved late grandmother used to shout at me and my sister.
As kids we really didn’t give a damn to propriety, so if there was something in the house we considered it fair game. Occasionally we broke stuff…like radios, kitchen counters (my sister), doors (me)—you get the drift.
Well, yesterday Rosco broke the hinge of my laptop when he grabbed back the screen. I just sat there on the steps, shaking my head, sighing, and thinking “that’s why I can’t have nothing.” I couldn’t help myself. The reality is that when you have kids you have to fall out of love with your possessions. You can’t get mad when they break stuff. You have to EXPECT that they’re going to break stuff - even expensive stuff.
You just suck your teeth and move on. Fortunately, I have a junker computer that I can salvage the screen from, so I can get the laptop where all my work is stored fixed. I just won’t be able to do any work on it until then. *le sigh* *le teeth suck*
I realized as I was editing the video post yesterday that I never got around to showing you our kitchen paint job.
Long-time snarky followers know how much work we’ve been doing in this house, and a couple of months ago I reached my breaking point with the kitchen not being “done.” Scott didn’t want to tackle the job until we could change out the counter tops - he likes to do everything at once. I, on the other hand, think it’s less stressful to break large jobs into stages. Besides that I seriously hope we’re going to move to a bigger house before we get around to replacing the counter tops and cabinets. After a few days of mulling it over, we got to work picking out paint. I won the battle this time (there may have been a hissy fit involved in the decision-making). I wanted a saturated color and Scott wanted something muted. Every other room in the house is muted, so I wanted rich blue:
We had to balance the cherry-toned cabinets, a medium-gray floor, lots of white trim, a bright white ceiling, and white wainscoting. I worried that if we picked a less saturated color the room would be too bright. I think the blue was a good choice - I admire Scott’s handiwork daily and marvel at how clean everything looks in one rich color now.
I did concede and let Scott pick out the lighting fixtures with absolutely no input from me whatsoever. This is the bubble lamp he picked for the eating area: .
The kitchen food prep area still lacks a lamp as I threw the old fixture in the trash a few weeks ago. Right now there’s just a naked bulb in there, but as I type Scott is on the Internets looking for a fixture. The one he originally ordered for there didn’t look like what he thought when it got here, so he returned it.
Yup. I’m happy. Fresh paint always makes rooms feel clean (and I’m glad the grease on the ceiling is gone).
~ 10 minutes long, so grab your coffee. And, I’m not really filming while driving. That’s just an illusion. It’s a backdrop, see, and the reason it’s moving is because…
Rosco will be three in November, so I suppose he’s at about that “average” age where most kids are potty-trained…or at least the age that parents claim their kids were potty-trained at (that’s a tangent for another day).
I’ve posted in the past about how we tend to let R guide us determining when to make big changes. We’ll introduce a milestone to him, and if it doesn’t come easily or if it seems traumatizing we’ll drop it and come back later. So, we started doing half-assed potty training right after R turned two. He was capable of taking off his own pants (though not necessarily putting them back on) and was demanding clean diapers, so we decided it was a good time to start training.
NOT. I’d put him on the potty, and then he’d piss on the floor thirty seconds later. According to T. Barry Brazelton’s Toilet Training: The Brazelton Way - he wasn’t ready. So, we kept trying every few weeks. We tried training underwear for a while (the Gerber ones with the double-layered bottoms), but he ended up peeing on himself a LOT, so we went back to diapers. Then we tried commando for a couple of weeks, which worked awesome in getting him to recognize his body functions, but he reverted back to self-soiling as soon as we put bottoms on him.
The big breakthrough came a few weeks ago. I’m not sure what happened, but I just got fed up with buying Pull-ups, so I put the kid in a pair of underwear one day and commanded him not to pee on ‘Mater. Things have been going swimmingly since then. Sometimes I’ll remind him to go to the potty, and other times he’ll take himself. He still has some “oops” moments where he can’t tell whether he’s pooting or pooping and doesn’t make it to the potty in time. But, you know what? I’ll gladly rinse out one pair of poopy underwear every day rather than see that kid walking around with diaper rash all damned day.
Now he’s wearing shorts and pants over his underwear and I take him OUT OF THE HOUSE(!!!) without a diaper.
It’s scary as hell, but hopefully this stage will pass soon and we can move on to the next thing…whatever that is.
Lately I’ve been doing a lot of research on why my hair sometimes takes on the appearance of a linty hair nest. My hair is super-coily and shrinks like you wouldn’t believe, so it tends to look felty. I can shampoo and condition and it’ll look great for a couple of hours, and then it’ll deflate and get all hard.
Because I’m trying to get back to my big hair state and am still recovering from last’s year’s Big Chop, I’m doing all I can to not lose any hair. I’ve been evaluating my products and doing some research.
It seems that since I have really, really, REALLY dry hair (so dry I could pull off a puff and use it to start a camp fire), I’m supposed to avoid shampoos that contain sulfates. Apparently sulfates, when added to shampoo, is what makes hair feel all squeaky clean. I’d been noticing that for a few days after shampooing my hair would be really clean, but really hard and wiry. So, for the past, oh…ten years or so, I’ve really only shampooed when my hair had build-up, but I would condition daily.
I’ve learned that I’ve been at least doing that right according to the Curly Girl methodology. The other issue I had was that sometimes, even with conditioner, my hair would still be really rough at the ends. Found out that’s due to “cones” (silicones) some conditioners contain. Some hair types rebel when products containing cones or proteins are applied as they can cause frizz.
So, I’m starting a little experiment. I’m cutting cones and sulfates out of my hair diet and will see what happens. Fortunately, the deep conditioner I’ve been using as a leave-in (an Aussie product) is a-ok, but my shampoo makes the “ruh roh” list, so that has to go. I bought some cheap-o Suave conditioner to co-wash (using conditioner as a “shampoo”) with and that’ll be my regimen for the next few weeks.
I’ll keep you updated as my hair grows bigger whether it feels less like Brill-o.
