I was going to spend my kid-free time today being uber-productive by clearing some of the umpteen dozen shows off of my DVR, but since I am still seriously lagging in the Top Mommy Blog rankings, I decided to go ahead and sit down and bang out the second part of my US Airways horror story. (That was a subtle hint by the way, but in case you didn't get it, go ahead and click on that brown button on the top right hand side over there that says "Vote For Me On Top Mommy Blogs." Once their site comes up, you're done.)
So where was I? Oh yeah, I had FINALLY made it to Huntsville and my dad had his surgery and things were going fairly well for him -- I mean, as well as can be expected after they crack your chest open and mess around with your heart for more than 3 hours. He was in a room, awake and talking, and even was walking some of the laps around the floor like his doctor wanted. He wasn't bouncing back like he was 25 or anything, but since he's 66, no one really expected him to. So on Sunday morning, I got up to go and visit with him and my mother-in-law was going to pick me up from the hospital to take me to the airport around 10:15 for my flight that left at about 12:45.
That part of the plan went amazingly well and she even took me out to breakfast before getting me to the Huntsville "International" Airport ("International" because it is only international in that you can get to an actual international airport from there). I got to the airport, went through security, and still had an hour to spare. While waiting at the gate, I was called to the counter for a new boarding pass. They just changed my seat -- no big deal. And then 15 minutes before the plane boarded, I got called to the counter again -- another seat change. This was nothing to get upset about, I was still on the flight and it wasn't like I was being moved out of first class or anything, just moved around. When it came time to board the plane, I was in the last "Zone" to be seated. By the time it was my turn to board, all of the over head bins were full and I had to send my bag below the plane. A little annoying? Yes, but no big deal since I had a 3 hour scheduled lay-over in Charlotte (a PLANNED one this time). When I finally do go to board the plane, I was met with a foul, fishy odor. It was nauseating and all I could think was how much fun it was going to be to ride in that for the next hour and a half.
Once we landed in Charlotte, I was told that my bag would be waiting for me on the sky bridge. So I got off of the plane and I waited. I waited, and I waited. Then they told me to get off of the sky bridge because they had to load the next flight's passengers onto the plane. They said that I should go and stand by the counter and they would bring me my bag. Finally, after the entire plane was reloaded, this guy walks up from the tarmac and gives me my bag. Also annoying, but its not like I really had anything better to do and I still had about 2 1/2 hours until my flight home was scheduled to depart. I walked around the airport, bought a new book since I had read the 4 I brought with me already, and found my gate for my flight home. After I got all comfy, plugged in my phone, and opened my book, I was approached by the gate agent who asked me to move so that the gate area could be cleaned. I was a little taken aback, because I could not imagine the process of cleaning that require me to move completely out of the gate area. So I said "Can't they just clean around me? It's what I do with my kids all of the time, I lift my feet for the vacuum and everything." Well, he didn't like that. He pursed his lips and reiterated that I would need to move and take all of my belongings with me. (Sigh) I found another gate to sit in -- right across from that one and saw this little bitty woman push a vacuum through there for about 5 minutes and then walk away. I wanted to go back over there and take up my perch again just to spite that idiot who had made me move, but I was afraid that he might bump me from my flight or something so I stayed put.
Finally, it was time for my flight. I got to actually take my bag onto the plane myself, but once again I was in the very last row of seats, by the window, and my seat was THE most uncomfortable one I have ever been in. I do not know if it was the fact that it didn't recline or what, but sitting in it made me feel like I had been caned across the back in a North Korean prison camp. I know it wasn't just me either because the 2 gentlemen sitting next to me had the same feeling. Once the plane had been filled to capacity, the captain came over the loud speaker and told us to make ourselves comfortable....because there was "a maintenance issue with the plane" and we were going to be sitting here at the gate for about 2 hours. A collective groan went up from the passengers. It was hot. It was crowded. And I was sitting in the most uncomfortable row of the plane. I called my husband and relayed the message about the delay -- this posed a problem for us since I was supposed to have landed at 7:49, when he and the kids would pick me up, we'd drive home, and then get the kids into bed at least close to their bedtime at 8:30. Now we were looking at a 10:30 bedtime. On a school night. Crap.
While we were sitting there, ("we" being the group of us in the back of the plane) the flight attendants passed out ice water, we all complained about how horrible this was, and we kept shifting in our seats (turns out that the other rows weren't super comfortable either). A little more than an hour into this 2 hour delay, someone from about the middle of the plane came to the back to ask the flight attendants if we could get off of the plane or if we had to stay here. "Oh no, you can get off of the plane -- just be sure you take your boarding pass with you." WHAT???! They didn't think to mention this when the delay was announced?? Great. Well, we all were pissed that we hadn't known this sooner, but since US Airways requires that you be on-board 10-15 minutes before departure, and since we were in the very back of the plane and people were standing in the aisle, we decided that at that point it wasn't worth it to fight our way off of the plane and stayed put. We should have just gotten off of the plane. At the end of the 2 hour delay, the captain came on again and delivered some bad news. I do not remember his exact words, but it went something like this:
"Well folks, we had to wait our turn for maintenance to come up here to fix the co-pilot's chair because it was a little uncomfortable. After they messed around with it trying to get it fixed, the darn thing broke on us (chuckle, chuckle). Anyways, their gonna try to rustle us up another chair to replace this one, but they said that it is gonna take a minimum of 2 hours and they're gonna need all y'all to get your belongings and get off of the plane while they work on it. Hopefully, this new chair will be comfortable enough for us to get underway in a couple of hours."
What. The. Hell. This guy had said "maintenance issue" and we had all assumed that if we hadn't waited for it to be fixed then we could have crashed into a field somewhere between here and Texas. It was a CHAIR? A chair that was a "little uncomfortable??" And it was the co-pilot's chair. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the fact that the co-pilot does a lot of stuff in-flight, but if his chair was soooooo uncomfortable that he couldn't sit in it for 2 hours to get to Texas, then did he really even HAVE to come?? Couldn't we grab a chair from the gate area and bolt it down real quick just to get there?? So now, instead of a 10:30 bedtime, my kids were looking at a 12:30 bedtime. Great. I called my husband and relayed the bad news. His response was "I am never flying with you. You're luck sucks."
So now we are all getting off of the plane so that they can fix the co-pilot's chair. Everyone is pissed. Several of us go straight to the "Special Services" counter to complain. I can hear them droning on and on about how we will have to take it up with corporate, that there is nothing that they can do, that the address for corporate is on the back of our ticket, blah, blah, blah. Before it is even close to my turn to gripe at the agent behind the counter, I notice the flight board behind them. Our flight has been given a new gate number and it has a new departure time. So I head that way, and find a few of my new friends from the plane already sitting there. I asked them what was going on and they said that they didn't know, they had just seen the changes on the board like I had. I went up to the gate agent, who looked like Chris Farley minus the sense of humor and cool looking hair, and asked if this was, indeed, our flight to Dallas. He barked at me that he did not have any information and to just go sit down and as soon as he knew something, he'd make an announcement. I lingered a moment to stare him down with one of those looks that I normally reserve for children who have used permanent marker on my couch or teachers who have mistreated my kids and retorted with the super intelligent "FINE." through gritted teeth.
Turns out, they had gotten us a different plane -- one that had an acceptable co-pilot's chair apparently -- and we were allowed to board the flight. After it was all said and done, we didn't have an additional 2 hour wait. We only had to wait an hour and 40 minutes before boarding that new flight. But since we were delayed in taking off by the tower and had a strong head-wind the entire flight, we lost more than half an hour anyway. My husband picked me up, with all 4 kids in-tow, at about 11:30 and we drove home and put the kids back to bed. They were, of course, wide awake. They had not seen me since Wednesday morning and this was Sunday night. They all wanted to know how Pa was doing and if he liked the cards and pictures they had sent him. It was after 1:00am before they finally settled down. The 2 oldest were more than an hour late for school the next day and the 2 youngest slept until noon.
I left the hospital at 10:15 that morning. I got to my house after midnight. If I had rented a car and driven myself it would have been cheaper, faster, and more comfortable. But I learned my lesson and I hope that you will all take note of it to save yourselves some stress -- US Airways SUCKS.
By the way, I DID make use of that website on the back of my ticket and sent a letter to corporate complaining about the trip and the way I was treated. They responded by sending me a $75 voucher to fly with them again. This might have been a nice gesture if it were possible to purchase ANY flight from them for $75, but its not. You cannot even upgrade to first class for $75. So they have sent me a voucher that can only be used if I give them more business and spend more money....I don't think so. Their puny restitution of a $75 voucher isn't even 15% of what I paid for this round trip ticket. I am writing a response to them about this. I think I will tell them that they can suck it and that I would rather drive myself or spend extra money to fly another airline than to give them ANY more of my money.
This is me...
I'm having a mom moment....
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
US Airways SUCKS (Part One)
I wrote the first part of this post on the flight from Charlotte to Huntsville when I was on my way to be with my dad for his triple by-pass surgery. It is on my mind again today since I finally completed my complaint letter to the airline about the horrible experience.
"I am wedged between a behemoth man and the outer wall of this tiny airplane. I am in the very last row, so my seat doesn't recline. The man beside me must easily weigh more than 350 pounds and he reeks of body odor. If I lean forward towards the window to escape his over-powering stench, I am greeted with the medicinal menthol smell of the cough drops that the woman in front of me is sucking on between her rattling coughs. Although MY seat doesn't recline, hers does and her head is practically in my lap. I feel like some sort of contortionist as I squeeze toward the wall of the plane to avoid being pressed into the smelly stranger beside me. I am thankful that there is no hope for awkward, forced, conversation since the roar of the engine -- which is just on the other side of a little plastic and aluminum -- makes hearing voices other than the ones in my head impossible. This hell is compounded by the knowledge that this was not supposed to be my flight. MY flight left nearly 4 hours ago, probably before the deodorant stopped working on this Goliath here beside me. I know this for sure, because I watched it go.
This morning, I got to the airport in Dallas more than 2 hours before boarding was scheduled to begin for my flight. I went through security like a responsible adult and made it successfully to my departure gate with more than an hour to spare. Unfortunately, US Airways failed. They failed to leave the gate on time. They failed to take off on time. And they failed to make clear -- no, scratch that -- they failed to give ANY INDICATION that boarding for my connecting flight in Charlotte would end 10 minutes prior to departure. They prostrated about how it was "company policy" in all major cities -- a policy that they had failed to maintain in the city that I had just left. And as I (and the other 5 passengers attempting this obviously impossible connection) stood there arguing with the rather rude gate agent, two flight attendants strolled past us and boarded the flight. Yep, the flight that we have just been told that we "missed." So we watched in a sort of horrified awe as our flight pulled away from the gate without us because we arrived less than 2 minutes late....or 8 minutes before scheduled departure. We were informed with great apathy that we had been booked on the next flight out -- in 3 hours and 50 minutes time.
The scene of all of us red-faced, panting, and sweating as we sprinted toward the gate only to be met by an agent with an inflated ego, high on her very limited power, who seemed to take some sick pleasure in telling us that we were too late and who looked down her nose at us like it was OUR FAULT was ridiculous to the point that it could have been a skit on Saturday Night Live. As she is explaining the US Airways policy about boarding procedures, and the 2 flight attendants stroll past us to board the plane, I asked "What about them? If there is time for them to board, then there is time for us to board. We are pretty fast. We just ran the entire length of this airport with our carry-ons dragging behind us and weaving in and out of pedestrian traffic in about 10 minutes flat. I'm pretty sure that we could already be in our seats if you'd quit arguing." She gave me a look of disdain while my fellow travelers nodded in agreement behind me. I seriously thought for a minute that she was going to deny that the 2 women had been there at all, but instead she looked over her glasses at me and droned out "Ma'am, THOSE are not passengers, they're flight attendants who are essential to the success of this flight." She enunciated every word like she was speaking to a child. I leaned in closer to her -- quite purposefully invading her personal space -- and said with all of the malice that I could muster "YES. And WE are customers. We are essential to the success of your COMPANY." This, of course, had a far less dramatic effect than I had hoped for. She told me to feel free to complain to corporate, that there was a website on my ticket and then she walked away like we weren't even there.
Of course, me being me, I went to the "Special Services" counter to deliver a "Special Message" to US Airways. I was met with even MORE rudeness and apathy. Luckily, my husband (whom I had already apprised of the situation) sent me a text literally moments before I went all postal on the chick behind the counter that said simply "Don't get arrested." My fellow disgruntled passengers were there behind me waiting to rip this woman behind the counter a new one about not being allowed to board the flight 8 minutes prior to its departure even though we were only "late" (a debatable fact) because their airline MADE us "late." Obviously there was no way that we were getting on the flight that had just left and we had already been booked on their next flight to Huntsville, so I had actually moved beyond that and now I was pissed about the rude indifference I was receiving from all of the US Airways staff. Seriously, it was so universal that I was convinced that they had held training classes in how to be the least accommodating and most frustrating.
So now, here I sit in a position that will no doubt have lasting effects on my back, next to a man who smells like soured laundry, and behind a woman who must have TB the way she is hacking. If I make it to Huntsville in time to see my dad before his surgery, I am not certain that it would be wise to do so without going through some sort of decontamination procedure. This SUCKS."
Despite their best efforts, I did finally get to Huntsville, and I did get to see my dad briefly before his surgery. I was right about the back ache induced by the strange position that I was forced into on my flight over -- it STILL hurts. Everyone I talked to while I was in Huntsville was sympathetic about the horrible flight over and assured me that it must mean that the return trip would be awesome. Unfortunately, they were wrong. So very, very, wrong. Part Two of this story is coming soon....right now I need some Motrin.
"I am wedged between a behemoth man and the outer wall of this tiny airplane. I am in the very last row, so my seat doesn't recline. The man beside me must easily weigh more than 350 pounds and he reeks of body odor. If I lean forward towards the window to escape his over-powering stench, I am greeted with the medicinal menthol smell of the cough drops that the woman in front of me is sucking on between her rattling coughs. Although MY seat doesn't recline, hers does and her head is practically in my lap. I feel like some sort of contortionist as I squeeze toward the wall of the plane to avoid being pressed into the smelly stranger beside me. I am thankful that there is no hope for awkward, forced, conversation since the roar of the engine -- which is just on the other side of a little plastic and aluminum -- makes hearing voices other than the ones in my head impossible. This hell is compounded by the knowledge that this was not supposed to be my flight. MY flight left nearly 4 hours ago, probably before the deodorant stopped working on this Goliath here beside me. I know this for sure, because I watched it go.
This morning, I got to the airport in Dallas more than 2 hours before boarding was scheduled to begin for my flight. I went through security like a responsible adult and made it successfully to my departure gate with more than an hour to spare. Unfortunately, US Airways failed. They failed to leave the gate on time. They failed to take off on time. And they failed to make clear -- no, scratch that -- they failed to give ANY INDICATION that boarding for my connecting flight in Charlotte would end 10 minutes prior to departure. They prostrated about how it was "company policy" in all major cities -- a policy that they had failed to maintain in the city that I had just left. And as I (and the other 5 passengers attempting this obviously impossible connection) stood there arguing with the rather rude gate agent, two flight attendants strolled past us and boarded the flight. Yep, the flight that we have just been told that we "missed." So we watched in a sort of horrified awe as our flight pulled away from the gate without us because we arrived less than 2 minutes late....or 8 minutes before scheduled departure. We were informed with great apathy that we had been booked on the next flight out -- in 3 hours and 50 minutes time.
The scene of all of us red-faced, panting, and sweating as we sprinted toward the gate only to be met by an agent with an inflated ego, high on her very limited power, who seemed to take some sick pleasure in telling us that we were too late and who looked down her nose at us like it was OUR FAULT was ridiculous to the point that it could have been a skit on Saturday Night Live. As she is explaining the US Airways policy about boarding procedures, and the 2 flight attendants stroll past us to board the plane, I asked "What about them? If there is time for them to board, then there is time for us to board. We are pretty fast. We just ran the entire length of this airport with our carry-ons dragging behind us and weaving in and out of pedestrian traffic in about 10 minutes flat. I'm pretty sure that we could already be in our seats if you'd quit arguing." She gave me a look of disdain while my fellow travelers nodded in agreement behind me. I seriously thought for a minute that she was going to deny that the 2 women had been there at all, but instead she looked over her glasses at me and droned out "Ma'am, THOSE are not passengers, they're flight attendants who are essential to the success of this flight." She enunciated every word like she was speaking to a child. I leaned in closer to her -- quite purposefully invading her personal space -- and said with all of the malice that I could muster "YES. And WE are customers. We are essential to the success of your COMPANY." This, of course, had a far less dramatic effect than I had hoped for. She told me to feel free to complain to corporate, that there was a website on my ticket and then she walked away like we weren't even there.
Of course, me being me, I went to the "Special Services" counter to deliver a "Special Message" to US Airways. I was met with even MORE rudeness and apathy. Luckily, my husband (whom I had already apprised of the situation) sent me a text literally moments before I went all postal on the chick behind the counter that said simply "Don't get arrested." My fellow disgruntled passengers were there behind me waiting to rip this woman behind the counter a new one about not being allowed to board the flight 8 minutes prior to its departure even though we were only "late" (a debatable fact) because their airline MADE us "late." Obviously there was no way that we were getting on the flight that had just left and we had already been booked on their next flight to Huntsville, so I had actually moved beyond that and now I was pissed about the rude indifference I was receiving from all of the US Airways staff. Seriously, it was so universal that I was convinced that they had held training classes in how to be the least accommodating and most frustrating.
So now, here I sit in a position that will no doubt have lasting effects on my back, next to a man who smells like soured laundry, and behind a woman who must have TB the way she is hacking. If I make it to Huntsville in time to see my dad before his surgery, I am not certain that it would be wise to do so without going through some sort of decontamination procedure. This SUCKS."
Despite their best efforts, I did finally get to Huntsville, and I did get to see my dad briefly before his surgery. I was right about the back ache induced by the strange position that I was forced into on my flight over -- it STILL hurts. Everyone I talked to while I was in Huntsville was sympathetic about the horrible flight over and assured me that it must mean that the return trip would be awesome. Unfortunately, they were wrong. So very, very, wrong. Part Two of this story is coming soon....right now I need some Motrin.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
All Things Considered
Two weeks ago, before my dad's heart surgery, I was down in the dumps. I wanted nothing more than to sleep all day and stay up all night and to pretend that the housework wasn't piling up just outside the peripheral vision of my DVRed TV shows. I was forcing myself to do the things that I was absolutely required to do -- get up to take the kids to school, make lunches, wash enough clothes so that everyone had underwear and jeans (and to make sure that at least 1 pair of yoga pants was clean.) I was in a funk. So the Friday before dad's procedure on Monday that ended up as triple by-pass surgery, I got up and took the 2 oldest to school and then came back home and got back into bed. The 2 youngest were still asleep. What was the worst that could happen?
Well, as it turns out, A LOT can happen when you go back to sleep and leave a 3 and almost 5 year old to fend for themselves for half a morning and almost none of it is good. At some point between 8:30 and almost noon, they woke up and went to get themselves breakfast. They did not even try to wake me up. Breakfast consisted of about 2 Pop-Tarts each. Now, the Pop-Tarts that they opened and ate off of to accomplish this was more like 12, but if you added up what they had eaten off of each Pop-Tart, it DID total about 2 apiece. They chased this down with no fewer than 7 Capri-Sun pouches and 5 semi-eaten yogurt cups. All in all not a bad selection for a couple of preschool kids who could've gone straight for the candy drawer. The problem wasn't what they had eaten, or even the fact that they had opened up numerous packages of things, but it was the fact that they had undone all of the straightening up that I had forced myself to do the night before. (Notice I DID NOT say "cleaning" as that would imply that great efforts had been made to scrub, dust, vacuum, etc. when in fact it was mostly just putting things away so that I could do some of that other stuff the next morning).
As I woke up and checked my phone for the time and realized that it was nearly noon, a wave of panic hit me. It was quiet. Were my kids even SAFE? Had they snuck out while I was in my apathetic coma??! Oh crap, what if they were wandering the neighborhood in their pajamas?!! I bolted out of bed, swung open the bedroom door, and was met with the first indication that the kids were still there -- in the hall bathroom was proof that they had been occupied with destroying my house and not the rest of the neighborhood: A sink full of dinosaurs and other random crap.
As I continued out into the rest of the house, I stepped over empty Capri-Sun pouches and Pop-Tart wrappers until I came to the epicenter of the natural disaster known as my children: the den. When I had retired to bed the night before, it had been picked up and ready to vacuum. Luckily, my kids know how much I hate cleaning and had done this so it would not be possible.
I should have been shocked, angered, or dismayed by their actions, but I wasn't. I was thankful that this was all that they had done. Based upon their known sleeping habits, I figure that they had been left to their own devices for approximately 2 hours -- maybe a little less. There were no holes in the walls, nothing was on fire, they had not left the house, and they had even fed themselves. And as a result of their self-entertaining, I got to sit down with my coffee and say "Now put that bin back in the cubby and fill the next one. Don't forget these blocks over here on the stairs. Remember that you still have to go rinse and dry off all of your dinosaurs." And other useful directions to them while they cleaned up the messes that they had made. That kept them busy until it was time to go and get their brother and sister from school, and then the 4 of them quickly finished up.
I do not recommend this type of behavior for any mother unless you want Child Protective Services to take your kids away, and I will not be rolling the dice again any time soon by sleeping in and letting the minions wreak havoc on our home. But for me, this one time, the results were not terrible. At least not if you know anything about my kids. All things considered, they acted like little angels. At least I got a few extra hours of sleep.
Well, as it turns out, A LOT can happen when you go back to sleep and leave a 3 and almost 5 year old to fend for themselves for half a morning and almost none of it is good. At some point between 8:30 and almost noon, they woke up and went to get themselves breakfast. They did not even try to wake me up. Breakfast consisted of about 2 Pop-Tarts each. Now, the Pop-Tarts that they opened and ate off of to accomplish this was more like 12, but if you added up what they had eaten off of each Pop-Tart, it DID total about 2 apiece. They chased this down with no fewer than 7 Capri-Sun pouches and 5 semi-eaten yogurt cups. All in all not a bad selection for a couple of preschool kids who could've gone straight for the candy drawer. The problem wasn't what they had eaten, or even the fact that they had opened up numerous packages of things, but it was the fact that they had undone all of the straightening up that I had forced myself to do the night before. (Notice I DID NOT say "cleaning" as that would imply that great efforts had been made to scrub, dust, vacuum, etc. when in fact it was mostly just putting things away so that I could do some of that other stuff the next morning).
As I woke up and checked my phone for the time and realized that it was nearly noon, a wave of panic hit me. It was quiet. Were my kids even SAFE? Had they snuck out while I was in my apathetic coma??! Oh crap, what if they were wandering the neighborhood in their pajamas?!! I bolted out of bed, swung open the bedroom door, and was met with the first indication that the kids were still there -- in the hall bathroom was proof that they had been occupied with destroying my house and not the rest of the neighborhood: A sink full of dinosaurs and other random crap.
As I continued out into the rest of the house, I stepped over empty Capri-Sun pouches and Pop-Tart wrappers until I came to the epicenter of the natural disaster known as my children: the den. When I had retired to bed the night before, it had been picked up and ready to vacuum. Luckily, my kids know how much I hate cleaning and had done this so it would not be possible.
I should have been shocked, angered, or dismayed by their actions, but I wasn't. I was thankful that this was all that they had done. Based upon their known sleeping habits, I figure that they had been left to their own devices for approximately 2 hours -- maybe a little less. There were no holes in the walls, nothing was on fire, they had not left the house, and they had even fed themselves. And as a result of their self-entertaining, I got to sit down with my coffee and say "Now put that bin back in the cubby and fill the next one. Don't forget these blocks over here on the stairs. Remember that you still have to go rinse and dry off all of your dinosaurs." And other useful directions to them while they cleaned up the messes that they had made. That kept them busy until it was time to go and get their brother and sister from school, and then the 4 of them quickly finished up.
I do not recommend this type of behavior for any mother unless you want Child Protective Services to take your kids away, and I will not be rolling the dice again any time soon by sleeping in and letting the minions wreak havoc on our home. But for me, this one time, the results were not terrible. At least not if you know anything about my kids. All things considered, they acted like little angels. At least I got a few extra hours of sleep.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Quick Update
I am still alive, and I WILL be writing real posts again very soon!!
I am in Alabama because my dad had triple bypass surgery this morning. It all went well, but that is why I haven't posted in a while.
In my head, there is an entire post about the mess that the 3 and 4 year made when I opted to go back to bed after taking the two oldest to school one morning instead of staying up and watching them, but I haven't had a chance to write it yet (and it will have pictures!!) And because of the trip from hell that I had to get here for my dad's surgery, there is a whole other post coming about that. So just hang in there -- there is good stuff coming!
Just think of this post as a "Coming Attractions" post.
I am in Alabama because my dad had triple bypass surgery this morning. It all went well, but that is why I haven't posted in a while.
In my head, there is an entire post about the mess that the 3 and 4 year made when I opted to go back to bed after taking the two oldest to school one morning instead of staying up and watching them, but I haven't had a chance to write it yet (and it will have pictures!!) And because of the trip from hell that I had to get here for my dad's surgery, there is a whole other post coming about that. So just hang in there -- there is good stuff coming!
Just think of this post as a "Coming Attractions" post.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
It's Hard Out There For A Pimp
Okay. This is NOT the post that I wanted to write today -- what with all the Facebook changes to complain about, and the fact that it is FINALLY Fall TV Premiere Week, but as promised, here is my post about other pages, blogs, and sites you might want to check out! Not nearly as many of you responded to my request to be included here, so if you were left out, please feel free to pimp yourself in the comments. If you had requested to be included, but I didn't include you, then I obviously did not receive your request because the only pages, links, etc. that I left out were those that wanted me to promote their books about cleaning or shiny-happy-strategies of how to be a Stepford Parent without Prozac (THOSE people obviously have not read my blog), or place a permanent ad banner, etc. (Just out of curiosity, how vehemently opposed to advertising would you guys be?? I have a legitimate offer from zulilly.com.....)
SPECIAL NEEDS BLOGS:
Red Vines and Red Wine -- A mommy blogger whose son is on the spectrum. Her son is what she calls "Invisibly Autistic" and he seems just like other kids until he doesn't. I have gained a much better insight into the autistic spectrum through reading her blogs. Her language is colorful, but she offers awesome insight on living with her son in the real world.
Dad V. Autism -- Hubby to Red Vines and Red Wine. Here is a portion of his "About" page that should give you a better idea of what he is like: " I have written lots of blogs, usually about the Detroit Lions or my latest project (book, movie, tree house, etc), but I have never really written about my son, Noah. My wife writes about him often. She does the research. She is an incredible advocate. Me? I blunder on learning from her predigested research and only occasionally doing my own when a particularly puzzling problem arises. I take care of the bills, kill the spiders, get the stuff off the top shelves, take out the garbage, do the dishes, occasionally do the laundry and try to be as understanding as possible with both Noah and the other two offspring. Noah is 8, Rylee is 12, and Dane is 20...each one has been their own set of peculiar, frustrating and humbling challenges."
I love getting both of their takes on things!
Down Wit Dat -- Mother of twins, one has Downs, and one does not. Here is a portion of her "About" page that should help you understand what her blog is like:
"The time since their birth has been a blur. In between all the feedings, diaper changes and doctors appointments I have tried to network... tried to find DS resources that meet our needs. I may be a nurse, but this is far from my specialty. There are many parenting blogs out there and there are many DS related blogs as well. And, no offense, but a lot of them depress the hell out of me. Many are scrapbooks of family life, a few have a fragment of useful information here and there. There are twin stories, but of identical or fraternal twins where both children are affected. Some are stories of families that adopt more DS children from around the world. They are over the top positive and often mention what a gift from the creator this is. Many of these blogs have book deals in the works. This is not one of those blogs. My name is Jen and I am the mother of a son with Trisomy 21 or Down Syndrome. I am also the mother of twins. I am not religious, I do not wish to adopt more children with his disorder, nor am I in denial. I think this f☠cking sucks. There, I said it. (I also swear like a pirate hooker, which you will learn as time goes on)."
RESOURCEFUL MOMMY BLOGGERS
Hammock Tracks -- Well written blog that offers recipes along with her thoughts and stories about homeschooling. This is the blurb from her site: "Hammock - an elevated tract of land rising above the general level of a marsh region. Or in other words, where we call home. This is a record of our life, or the "tracks" we leave there. We are the parents of four children. We home school and do other crazy things like raise rabbits, garden, fish, hunt and spend a lot of time together. Just as animals leave tracks in the marsh near our home, we leave tracks here for you to read and hopefully enjoy."
The Third Boob -- Okay, these ladies are the ones who are re-posting my "Fundraisers SUCK" post (which should happen this Wednesday, September 28th). Normally, they have informative posts with recipes and motherhood tips, and usually they are presented in a humorous way so that I don't feel like my mother is standing over me telling me what to do like when I was 5. But you absolutely HAVE to go back and read the post about how the blog got its name -- I laughed out loud.
BLOGS THAT MAKE ME LAUGH
Message With A Bottle -- Here is the blurb from this daddy blogger's site: "On May 19th, 2010 I quit my job to be a stay-at-home, freelancer-for-hire and user-of-many-hyphens dad. As a reminder of everything going on with my writing, I leave Post-It Notes around my office so I don't forget deadlines, meetings and the fact my bank account is nearly empty (it's a sick motivational tool--the yearning to eat). I decided to incorporate those same organizational principles while watching my son. These are notes to remind myself what to do, and sometimes more importantly, what not to do when raising a child." If that doesn't make you want to read it, I don't know what will. It simply rocks.
Hyperbole and a Half -- Allie Brosh is like my guru. I credit her and her blog as the reason I started my blog. I fall forever short of the kind of humor that she is able to produce with her awesome stories and MS Paint illustrations, but someday I want to be as funny as her. Or at least come close. On a bad, bad, day in my life, I can put on the holey, funky, sweatshirt from college that I refuse to get rid of, make a large pot of coffee and sit with my laptop and read her old posts to make me literally "Laugh Out Loud."
Moms Who Drink And Swear -- Nikki, although I do not always agree with her, is one of those honest mom bloggers that tell it like it is. Here is blurb from her "About" page on her blog: "This momma's on the run! Running my mouth, that is. Real moms get frustrated. We say and do things that we regret. We are often running in 100 different directions, having no time to shower, rarely get to go to the bathroom without an uninvited guest or talk on the phone without getting barked at by a needy kid. Sometimes it sucks. PERIOD. The Moms who drink and swear© blog is raw, honest, and often completely inappropriate. Perfect parenting doesn't exist. We just keep trying and in the process we all just want to feel like we aren't alone in this crazy thing. I put on my bitch pants and say the stuff we all think at one time or another because I choose to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Writing it all out helps me figure it all out, sometimes. I hope it gives you comfort, information and giggles. I write both from the heart and my experience as a mental health professional and a parent of two nutjob kids who provide me with more material for this nonsense than I could ever use. This is not a site for the humorless or serious type mom. Pearl clutching, perfect parents....don't say I didn't warn you. OUR MISSION: To laugh, love and support our families and communities through socialization, education, support systems and philanthropy."
And NOT a blog, but still amazing is Chef Jeff. He has written an amazing cookbook that is completely on-line and has given me a link for you guys to preview it FOR FREE!!! Go to DinneRevolution and register. Be sure to provide him with the feedback he has asked for!! This cookbook is full of recipes that contain less than 10 ingredients and are easy to make and are family friendly -- even for MY kids.
So, show these bloggers some love and tell them where you heard about them. Who knows, maybe they will return the favor! If you are a blogger, or if you have an etsy shop, or if you own a business, etc. then pimp yourself in the comments. And now, go and pimp MY blog out to all of your friends, family, and random strangers on the street.
SPECIAL NEEDS BLOGS:
Red Vines and Red Wine -- A mommy blogger whose son is on the spectrum. Her son is what she calls "Invisibly Autistic" and he seems just like other kids until he doesn't. I have gained a much better insight into the autistic spectrum through reading her blogs. Her language is colorful, but she offers awesome insight on living with her son in the real world.
Dad V. Autism -- Hubby to Red Vines and Red Wine. Here is a portion of his "About" page that should give you a better idea of what he is like: " I have written lots of blogs, usually about the Detroit Lions or my latest project (book, movie, tree house, etc), but I have never really written about my son, Noah. My wife writes about him often. She does the research. She is an incredible advocate. Me? I blunder on learning from her predigested research and only occasionally doing my own when a particularly puzzling problem arises. I take care of the bills, kill the spiders, get the stuff off the top shelves, take out the garbage, do the dishes, occasionally do the laundry and try to be as understanding as possible with both Noah and the other two offspring. Noah is 8, Rylee is 12, and Dane is 20...each one has been their own set of peculiar, frustrating and humbling challenges."
I love getting both of their takes on things!
Down Wit Dat -- Mother of twins, one has Downs, and one does not. Here is a portion of her "About" page that should help you understand what her blog is like:
"The time since their birth has been a blur. In between all the feedings, diaper changes and doctors appointments I have tried to network... tried to find DS resources that meet our needs. I may be a nurse, but this is far from my specialty. There are many parenting blogs out there and there are many DS related blogs as well. And, no offense, but a lot of them depress the hell out of me. Many are scrapbooks of family life, a few have a fragment of useful information here and there. There are twin stories, but of identical or fraternal twins where both children are affected. Some are stories of families that adopt more DS children from around the world. They are over the top positive and often mention what a gift from the creator this is. Many of these blogs have book deals in the works. This is not one of those blogs. My name is Jen and I am the mother of a son with Trisomy 21 or Down Syndrome. I am also the mother of twins. I am not religious, I do not wish to adopt more children with his disorder, nor am I in denial. I think this f☠cking sucks. There, I said it. (I also swear like a pirate hooker, which you will learn as time goes on)."
RESOURCEFUL MOMMY BLOGGERS
Hammock Tracks -- Well written blog that offers recipes along with her thoughts and stories about homeschooling. This is the blurb from her site: "Hammock - an elevated tract of land rising above the general level of a marsh region. Or in other words, where we call home. This is a record of our life, or the "tracks" we leave there. We are the parents of four children. We home school and do other crazy things like raise rabbits, garden, fish, hunt and spend a lot of time together. Just as animals leave tracks in the marsh near our home, we leave tracks here for you to read and hopefully enjoy."
The Third Boob -- Okay, these ladies are the ones who are re-posting my "Fundraisers SUCK" post (which should happen this Wednesday, September 28th). Normally, they have informative posts with recipes and motherhood tips, and usually they are presented in a humorous way so that I don't feel like my mother is standing over me telling me what to do like when I was 5. But you absolutely HAVE to go back and read the post about how the blog got its name -- I laughed out loud.
BLOGS THAT MAKE ME LAUGH
Message With A Bottle -- Here is the blurb from this daddy blogger's site: "On May 19th, 2010 I quit my job to be a stay-at-home, freelancer-for-hire and user-of-many-hyphens dad. As a reminder of everything going on with my writing, I leave Post-It Notes around my office so I don't forget deadlines, meetings and the fact my bank account is nearly empty (it's a sick motivational tool--the yearning to eat). I decided to incorporate those same organizational principles while watching my son. These are notes to remind myself what to do, and sometimes more importantly, what not to do when raising a child." If that doesn't make you want to read it, I don't know what will. It simply rocks.
Hyperbole and a Half -- Allie Brosh is like my guru. I credit her and her blog as the reason I started my blog. I fall forever short of the kind of humor that she is able to produce with her awesome stories and MS Paint illustrations, but someday I want to be as funny as her. Or at least come close. On a bad, bad, day in my life, I can put on the holey, funky, sweatshirt from college that I refuse to get rid of, make a large pot of coffee and sit with my laptop and read her old posts to make me literally "Laugh Out Loud."
Moms Who Drink And Swear -- Nikki, although I do not always agree with her, is one of those honest mom bloggers that tell it like it is. Here is blurb from her "About" page on her blog: "This momma's on the run! Running my mouth, that is. Real moms get frustrated. We say and do things that we regret. We are often running in 100 different directions, having no time to shower, rarely get to go to the bathroom without an uninvited guest or talk on the phone without getting barked at by a needy kid. Sometimes it sucks. PERIOD. The Moms who drink and swear© blog is raw, honest, and often completely inappropriate. Perfect parenting doesn't exist. We just keep trying and in the process we all just want to feel like we aren't alone in this crazy thing. I put on my bitch pants and say the stuff we all think at one time or another because I choose to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Writing it all out helps me figure it all out, sometimes. I hope it gives you comfort, information and giggles. I write both from the heart and my experience as a mental health professional and a parent of two nutjob kids who provide me with more material for this nonsense than I could ever use. This is not a site for the humorless or serious type mom. Pearl clutching, perfect parents....don't say I didn't warn you. OUR MISSION: To laugh, love and support our families and communities through socialization, education, support systems and philanthropy."
And NOT a blog, but still amazing is Chef Jeff. He has written an amazing cookbook that is completely on-line and has given me a link for you guys to preview it FOR FREE!!! Go to DinneRevolution and register. Be sure to provide him with the feedback he has asked for!! This cookbook is full of recipes that contain less than 10 ingredients and are easy to make and are family friendly -- even for MY kids.
So, show these bloggers some love and tell them where you heard about them. Who knows, maybe they will return the favor! If you are a blogger, or if you have an etsy shop, or if you own a business, etc. then pimp yourself in the comments. And now, go and pimp MY blog out to all of your friends, family, and random strangers on the street.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Sad Day
September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month.
This morning, my dear friend's 10 year old son, Evan, passed away from Stage 4 neuroblastoma that he has been fighting for half of his young life. I will be hugging my kids extra tight tonight and praying for Melissa, Andy, and Adam. Heaven welcomed Evan early this morning with open arms. His pain and suffering are over and I am so thankful for that. But while the angels rejoice at his homecoming, my sweet friend and her family are left with a void that can never be filled. My heart breaks for her. This family needs our prayers today, tomorrow, and in the days & weeks to come. May the loving arms of God envelop them and carry them through the difficult days ahead.
The loss of a child is a special kind of grief that few understand and no one should ever know. Join me in praying for ALL of the families who are painfully aware of Childhood Cancer everyday, and honor them by donating to research to find a cure.
Also, check out these AWESOME ladies:
http://www.ustream.tv/channel/bald-moms-rock-46-mommas
As someone who clings to my own long locks like a security blanket, and cries every couple of years as I cut it to donate, I applaud them for going bald on purpose.
This morning, my dear friend's 10 year old son, Evan, passed away from Stage 4 neuroblastoma that he has been fighting for half of his young life. I will be hugging my kids extra tight tonight and praying for Melissa, Andy, and Adam. Heaven welcomed Evan early this morning with open arms. His pain and suffering are over and I am so thankful for that. But while the angels rejoice at his homecoming, my sweet friend and her family are left with a void that can never be filled. My heart breaks for her. This family needs our prayers today, tomorrow, and in the days & weeks to come. May the loving arms of God envelop them and carry them through the difficult days ahead.
The loss of a child is a special kind of grief that few understand and no one should ever know. Join me in praying for ALL of the families who are painfully aware of Childhood Cancer everyday, and honor them by donating to research to find a cure.
Also, check out these AWESOME ladies:
http://www.ustream.tv/channel/bald-moms-rock-46-mommas
As someone who clings to my own long locks like a security blanket, and cries every couple of years as I cut it to donate, I applaud them for going bald on purpose.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
The Times, They Are A-Changing....
Dear children of this house,
Your world is about to change. Drastically.
No longer will you be allowed to play off the exhaustion of your mother to avoid your homework, your chores, your dinner, or your bedtime. I have called in reinforcements, and after years of semi-patiently waiting, your father has finally been moved to 1st shift.
So when you get home from school on Monday, be prepared. Be prepared to face the consequences of your actions. And be prepared to change and adapt. Quickly. This will be key to your survival.
Your father has not been worn down by the past 3 unrelenting years of your antics. He will not be amused by your "art projects" that involve no fewer than 243 individual pieces of paper that you tore out of the notebook we literally bought you last month to use for school. Nor will he find it endearing when you all pitch a fit and whine and ask for something different for dinner despite the fact that I am literally in the process of putting food on your plates. When the four of you cover the entire floor of the den with blocks and Lego's and other random crap and fight over who gets to watch what on the TV, he will not just roll his eyes and sigh and walk away to the sanctuary of our bedroom and leave you to it. When you get out of the tub or shower soaking wet without a thought to the towel that I thoughtfully placed next to the shower door, he will not just ignore the wet carpet left in your wake as you streak through the house.
Your back-talk, bad attitudes, whining, fighting and choruses of "Not Fair's" will not be met with the cheery sarcasm that you are accustomed to from me -- your dad will not put up with any of that crap. Back-talk and whining are as much of your daily routine as eating and sleeping, so this will take some getting used to. You should probably just go ahead and prepare yourselves to be stripped of privileges like video game time, TV time, desserts, and play dates.
Losing the remote for hours or days on end will no longer be tolerated -- in fact, don't even worry about this one. It won't even be possible for you to lose the remote because your father is not going to let you even touch the remote.
If your dad sees you flood the bathroom; or spill an entire jumbo-sized box of cereal; or write on a wall, a chair, a table, or ANYTHING other than paper, he won't take a picture and post it on Facebook like I would. No, there will most likely be a little yelling, followed by a lecture, and possibly a spanking involved, depending upon the severity of the damage you caused. And he will make you clean it up.
When your dad tells you to do your homework, you had best just sit down and do it. Getting up 14 times in a half an hour, whining that you need a break, that you're hungry or thirsty, etc. will carry little weight with him. You are not writing a thesis. You have never had a homework assignment that SHOULD have taken more than an hour to complete, and your dad will expect you to sit down and do it. Period. No discussion.
At bedtime, your dad will tell you to brush your teeth and go to bed just like I do now. However, he will not allow you to take up to 30 minutes to brush your teeth and get into the bed only to endure your French farce-like behavior where you bed-hop for at least another half hour. If you get up after he puts you down for the night, you had better really need to pee or be reporting a life-threatening situation. This is a very important adjustment for you to all make. Your dad will need to get up no later than 4:30 in the morning to get to work for his new shift, and he will be going to bed shortly after you do. It would not be wise for you to keep him up. Not wise at all.
I hope that you are listening to this. I hope that you heed these warnings I am giving you. I hope that your survival instincts kick in and you adapt to this new environment. Because although I love you all very much, you will not get much sympathy from me if you fail adjust your behavior. When your dad is reading you the riot act, I will be nodding in agreement behind him. I've tried for years to get you to behave like normal kids with limited success, now I am bringing in the big guns and you are on your own.
Love,
Your Overworked Mom
Your world is about to change. Drastically.
No longer will you be allowed to play off the exhaustion of your mother to avoid your homework, your chores, your dinner, or your bedtime. I have called in reinforcements, and after years of semi-patiently waiting, your father has finally been moved to 1st shift.
So when you get home from school on Monday, be prepared. Be prepared to face the consequences of your actions. And be prepared to change and adapt. Quickly. This will be key to your survival.
Your father has not been worn down by the past 3 unrelenting years of your antics. He will not be amused by your "art projects" that involve no fewer than 243 individual pieces of paper that you tore out of the notebook we literally bought you last month to use for school. Nor will he find it endearing when you all pitch a fit and whine and ask for something different for dinner despite the fact that I am literally in the process of putting food on your plates. When the four of you cover the entire floor of the den with blocks and Lego's and other random crap and fight over who gets to watch what on the TV, he will not just roll his eyes and sigh and walk away to the sanctuary of our bedroom and leave you to it. When you get out of the tub or shower soaking wet without a thought to the towel that I thoughtfully placed next to the shower door, he will not just ignore the wet carpet left in your wake as you streak through the house.
Your back-talk, bad attitudes, whining, fighting and choruses of "Not Fair's" will not be met with the cheery sarcasm that you are accustomed to from me -- your dad will not put up with any of that crap. Back-talk and whining are as much of your daily routine as eating and sleeping, so this will take some getting used to. You should probably just go ahead and prepare yourselves to be stripped of privileges like video game time, TV time, desserts, and play dates.
Losing the remote for hours or days on end will no longer be tolerated -- in fact, don't even worry about this one. It won't even be possible for you to lose the remote because your father is not going to let you even touch the remote.
If your dad sees you flood the bathroom; or spill an entire jumbo-sized box of cereal; or write on a wall, a chair, a table, or ANYTHING other than paper, he won't take a picture and post it on Facebook like I would. No, there will most likely be a little yelling, followed by a lecture, and possibly a spanking involved, depending upon the severity of the damage you caused. And he will make you clean it up.
When your dad tells you to do your homework, you had best just sit down and do it. Getting up 14 times in a half an hour, whining that you need a break, that you're hungry or thirsty, etc. will carry little weight with him. You are not writing a thesis. You have never had a homework assignment that SHOULD have taken more than an hour to complete, and your dad will expect you to sit down and do it. Period. No discussion.
At bedtime, your dad will tell you to brush your teeth and go to bed just like I do now. However, he will not allow you to take up to 30 minutes to brush your teeth and get into the bed only to endure your French farce-like behavior where you bed-hop for at least another half hour. If you get up after he puts you down for the night, you had better really need to pee or be reporting a life-threatening situation. This is a very important adjustment for you to all make. Your dad will need to get up no later than 4:30 in the morning to get to work for his new shift, and he will be going to bed shortly after you do. It would not be wise for you to keep him up. Not wise at all.
I hope that you are listening to this. I hope that you heed these warnings I am giving you. I hope that your survival instincts kick in and you adapt to this new environment. Because although I love you all very much, you will not get much sympathy from me if you fail adjust your behavior. When your dad is reading you the riot act, I will be nodding in agreement behind him. I've tried for years to get you to behave like normal kids with limited success, now I am bringing in the big guns and you are on your own.
Love,
Your Overworked Mom
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