Tag Archives: journal

Blogging For Idiots

Text conversation after I discovered Jim’s accidental post on my blog (see “Publish = Blog Entry, Not Comment” for the story).
Me:  You have made me laugh for the past hour.  You MUST read my new blog entry.  It is an explanation of “my” blog entry from this morning.
Jim: OK, but I have that look of horror on my face again.
Me: You should. Let’s just say I found your “comment.”  And so did the rest of the blogging world.  Go to momopolize.com to read it…NOT wordpress.com.
Jim (after reading blog): Does that make me a blogger?
Me:  Sure.  You are now a blogger.
Jim: Yeah!  Maybe I’ll get that book deal.  Blogging for idiots.


Sorry, Jim.  Looks like it’s not in the cards for you.  Maybe “Commenting for Idiots?”

(photo from nulledtemplates.com)

Publish = Blog Entry, Not Comment

Important warning to all bloggers:  One must be sure to log out of WordPress on husband’s computer when finished.  Or one may find a new mysterious blog entry next time one logs on.

My husband, Jim, finally decided to read Momopolize.  “Gee honey, it only took you 3 weeks.  Thanks.”  Oops.  I forgot, I promised to play nice.  I meant “Gee honey, you took the time to read 3 weeks of blogs in one day.  Thanks!!”  After reading, he decided to post a complimentary comment about my new blog.  Only he didn’t post a comment.  He put his comment as a new blog post.  And PUBLISHED it.  For the world to see.  So for everyone who viewed the new blog entry from earlier today titled “I hope no…”, now you have an explanation.  I’m sure you’ve been wracking your brain all day trying to figure out the mystery.

At least now I know I’m not the most technologically challenged person in the family.

This was Jim’s “comment” blog entry seen ’round the world.

“I hope no one sees how long I’ve been reading this. I never realized how much I miss of my own family. What an interesting time from 2:30pm to 6:00pm each week day. I know I don’t say it enough, but thank you for all you do! Love you.”

I hope this dispels any rumors that I am narcissistic for posting my immense appreciation and love for myself.

Honey, repeat this 3 times:  Don’t click “add new post.”  Ever.  Thanks for the kind comment though.  I really do appreciate it.  And for giving me my laugh for the day.  And material.  Lots of material for my blog.  Writing my blog is easy.  I simply regurgitate the antics of my family!

I’m not really a writer. I just play one in real life.

Tales of a Tattle

Greg: “Eric called me a snitch.”
Me (to Greg): “Just tell him that’s not nice.”
Me (to Jim): “He is snitching about being called a snitch.  Do you see the irony here??”
A minute later…
Greg: “Now he called me a tattle-tale for telling that he called me a snitch.”
Jim:   “Greg, what is the definition of a tattle-tale?”
Greg: “Someone who tells on someone else that isn’t doing something very bad.”
Me:    “And what are you doing now?”
Greg: “…oopsie…”
  • Greg: “I’m going to go play Jake’s PS3.”
  • Me:    “Did Jake say it is ok?”
  • Greg: “Yes, he owes me time because he punched me but I didn’t tell.”
  • Me:   “Well…you kinda’ just did.”

Brother, can you spare a dime? Or quarter?

  • Me: “So did you and Greg decide to switch chores?”
  • Eric: “No.”
  • Me: “But I’ve seen Greg feeding the pets a lot recently”
  • Eric: “I know.  I give him a quarter to do it.”
  • Me: “But we pay you more than a quarter.”
  • Eric: “I know.”
  • Me: “So you pay him PART of what we pay you, and he does it??”
  • Eric: “Not exactly.  I usually find a quarter he left lying around and just give him the same one again.”


Karma’s only a b**** when you are

We refer to Karma a lot in our house.  Usually in a bad way.

“You called your brother stupid and then forgot to study for a test?  Karma.”

“You left your skateboard propped against the wall after I told you not to and it fell on your toe?  Karma.”

This past week, I had spent a lot of time being a really nice person.  Really nice.  Yes, I’m patting myself on the back.  I enjoy fostering kittens but it has been overwhelming recently and has required more effort than normal.  Adoption events, meeting a rescue transport last minute because a group of kittens was scheduled to be euthanized, and, more recently, many vet visits because the poor little baby kittens are ill.  The past few days I have had to hand feed kitten milk “formula” every few hours with a syringe.  Also last week I agreed to spend many hours doing a strenuous task at work that everyone else (who knew better) didn’t want to do.  Today, as I’m on hold with the rescue’s vet (which is about 45 minutes away) trying to schedule yet another appointment (because, despite all my effort, the kittens weren’t improving), all I could think was “when it rains, it pours!”  I was already having a little pity party for myself because I had to be late for a picnic in order to make a trip home just to pick up a kitten (not one of the sick ones).  I begrudgingly agreed to deliver him to his adopter during the time I should have been at the picnic because it was the only time she was available, even though it wasn’t convenient for me.

When loading up the kitten for his adoption meeting, Jimmy went down into the basement and informed us that there was a funny noise.  Jim went to investigate and realized a pipe had burst.  It had JUST burst.  The wall was wet but it hadn’t even made it to the carpeted floor yet.  Jim turned off the water and averted disaster.

“You kindly missed part of your picnic to help a rescued foster kitten find his forever home and then your basement didn’t flood?  Karma.”

Shortly after we arrived to the picnic, it started raining.  Yep, when it rains, it pours.  But better that the pouring was outside at a picnic instead of in our basement.  Thanks Karma.

I had to leave the picnic early to make it to the vet appointment, but that’s ok.  I’ll just expect another visit from Karma.


(The two itty-bitty-under-a-pound-in-weight kittens had to stay at the vet overnight because they are so ill.  Poor, sweet little guys.  I’m waiting to get an update on them any moment now.  Hey Karma, I will take that next visit now!!)

Lost control of the remote control

That awkward moment when you realize the kids have left the room and you are watching Spongebob alone.

And you still don’t change the channel.

  • “No Patrick, they are laughing next to us.” ~Spongebob
  • “It may be stupid, but it’s also dumb.” ~Patrick
  • Sandy: “Patrick, don’t you have to be stupid somewhere else?” Patrick: “Not until 4.”
  • “That’s it.  You just lost your brain priveleges.” ~Plankton
  • “As long as these pants are square and this sponge is Bob, I will not let you down.”~Spongebob
  • “I’m a goofy goober, yeah.  You’re a goofy goober, yeah.  We’re all goofy goobers, yeah.” ~Spongebob and Patrick

See???  It’s good stuff!

Once In Two Blue Moons

Bummer.  I just realized that tonight is the rare second full moon of the month.  The Blue Moon.  I missed out on doing all those things I always say I do once in a…well, you get it.  Now I have to wait 3 more years to do them!

Since I get manicures once in a blue moon, I guess the Caviar Mani isn’t in the cards for me.  I’m sure that trend will be gone by 2015.  On the bright side, I guess I’m also off the hook for cleaning my windows

.I tried explaining what a blue moon is to Greg, but as soon as he heard the words “Blue” and “Moon,” he yelled “So the SMURFS are coming tonight???”  Oh Greg, get your facts straight buddy.  The Smurfs didn’t COME to the Big Apple during a blue moon.  They get to go back to Smurfville tonight.  What Greg?  No, it’s not an actual big apple.  That’s what people call New Yor…oh, nevermind.  I feel like I should come up with a witty explanation.  But I am only clever once in a blue moon.

Since I missed my opportunity tonight, I guess for the next 3 years I need to change the saying to “once in two blue moons.”

“We hit bullying hard”

At a school orientation meeting a couple of years ago, during the guidance counselor’s spiel to the parents about the wonderment of middle school, she proclaimed “we hit bullying hard in 6th grade.”  At the time, I was the only one who chuckled out loud at the irony of that statement.  Later in the year though, the erroneousness of the same statement wasn’t funny.

Unbeknownst to me, my own son spent the second half of his 6th grade school year being bullied by a group of classmates.  I like to think I’m pretty involved in my kids’ lives (too involved if you ask them), but had NO clue.  None.  Nada.  Zip.  Zilch.  Looking back, maybe I should have given more thought to the fact that he stayed home a lot and didn’t do much with his friends during that time.  But as the saying goes, hindsight is 20/20.  I just thought he was being a typical tween that gets moody.  It never once crossed my mind that he was being bullied.  I bought into the false perception that kids who are big for their age don’t get bullied.  I was guilty of stereotyping the victim of a bully as a scrawny, small child.  Never considered it could be a 5’8″ eleven year old.

The bullying was mostly verbal, with occasional shoving.  The saying “sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me” is just wrong.  Very wrong.  Words hurt just as much as punches. It wasn’t until the school year was almost over that I received the “come pick me up NOW” text that started the conversation during which I discovered what was wrong.

He said he hadn’t told me sooner because he was afraid I’d go to the guidance counselor.  He didn’t want to be labeled a snitch which would make the situation worse.  I finally was able to drag out a bit of vague information, after promising not to go stomping into the school, demanding punishment for the bullies. It was one of those parenting moments where I truly did not know what to do.  I did not want to betray his trust, but was devastated that he had been silently suffering for months.

Since there were only a few days of school left, I bit my tongue.  I’m surprised I didn’t bite it right off, considering I was also clenching  my teeth in anger.  Fortunately, summer break seemed to heal all (most) wounds (some may never be healed) and the bullying stopped in 7th grade.  As far as I know.  I don’t have the illusion anymore that I know exactly what is happening in my kids’ lives.

On Monday, a horrific incident happened in Maryland.  A 15 year old took a gun to school and shot another student.  As is often the case in situations like this, the boy was bullied.  And as is almost always the case, the student that is fighting for his life was a random target – in this case a special needs student who greeted everyone with a smile – completely uninvolved in the situation.  A lot of people are very quick to judge when something terrible happens.  The parents should have raised the shooter better.  The school should have intervened.  Peers should have seen warning signs.  Bullying is to blame.

I feel a lot of things about this shooting but judgement isn’t one of them.  I feel incredible sadness, and intense fear.  Heartbreak for the victim, his family and everyone involved, including the family of the shooter.  Anxiety that I have two teenagers – plus 2 that will be teenagers before I turn around- and the realization that something like this could happen anywhere, at any time.  But not judgement.  I don’t personally know anyone involved.  Even if I did, I still couldn’t judge.  No one – let me repeat, NO ONE – knows everything about this situation.  So no one can really pass judgement.  You can argue about how the teen dressed or what he posted on Facebook or the parents’ past or how he got the gun or even that he was bullied.  And those may all be valid points .  But the fact remains that the reason this teen decided to take a gun to school and open fire may never be known.  There are many other teens that have a bad family life, that have guns in their home, that don’t dress “the norm,” that post gloomy thoughts.  And, yes, very many that are bullied.  Probably more than we know.  Because they are afraid to tell.  But those other bully victims don’t decide to turn to violence against others like this one did.  There is some part of the story that is missing.  Something beyond the headlines that made the teen make the devastating choice he did.  Something we may never know without getting inside his head.

Don’t point fingers.  But keep that sadness and fear.  Use those emotions for good.  Pray for the victim and his loved ones when you feel sad.  Come up with ideas of how to prevent this in the future when you feel afraid.  Instead of condemning and placing blame, praise those that were heroes in this situation.  The faculty and counselor that got the gun away most likely prevented this from being a worse tragedy than it was.  But it is still a tragedy.  An awful, horrible tragedy.  An unexplainable, unblamable tragedy.

Bullying is an inexcusable act.  It is unacceptable that we live in a world where tweens, teens and even adults live with the feelingof knots  in their stomach because of another person intimidating them.  Even if it isn’t the sole cause for what this teen did, bullying did probably contribute to his downward spiral that ultimately led to his desperate act.  We all need to continue to “hit bullying hard” until it ends.  Completely.  Forever.


God bless and heal you Daniel Borowy.  May you soon be back at school greeting your classmates with waves and high fives.

Daniel’s friends are making a plea to his favorite singer, Lady Gaga, to come visit him.  Send her a Twitter or Facebook message to help with their cause.  I truly hope that wish comes true.

There they go, just a walking down the street. Singing Do Wah Diddy Diddy Dum Diddy Do.

This school year, we had a dilemna.  Are Eric and Greg are old enough to walk home from school alone?  After going back and forth (and back and forth and back and forth), we decided yes.  Since we live less than a mile from the school, we do not have bus service.  Up until this point, someone has picked them up every day.  There are walking paths and sidewalks the entire route home and there will be 4-5 kids walking together.  No big deal, right?

Today was the first day of school.  They were very excited about the big walk.  As the day progressed, scenarios went through my head of things going wrong.

  1. What if they forget they are supposed to walk home and stand out in front of the school waiting for me.   The other Moms will think I forgot to pick up my kids on the very first day!  How embarrassing will that be???  Yeah, my first “worry” was what others would think, not safety.  Mom of the year here.
  2. One of the paths goes near a busy road.  What if they are goofing around and go off the path?  What if they get too close to the road with the cars whizzing by??  At least my SECOND worry was safety.  I redeemed myself.  A little.
  3. What if Eric and Greg get in an argument?  They have reached the age that arguments between them usually turn physical.  I pictured them rolling around in the grass, wrestling and punching as their buddies cheered “Fight. Fight. Fight.”
  4. What if they get lost?  They could be wandering through the woods hours later in the dark.  We’ve walked that way many times so that thought was most ridiculous, but it was still a thought.

I finally calmed my fears by deciding to walk half way to meet them.  That was a good compromise for the first day.  I knew they wouldn’t be happy to see me intruding on their “big boy freedom” but that’s ok.

At dismissal time, I strolled out of the house thinking of a good response to the “why are you here, Mom?” question when I met them.  “It’s just such a pretty day, I decided to walk also.”  That wouldn’t really be convincing as I had sweat dripping from the 95 degree heat.  Oh well, stalker Mom it is.

I got half-way to the half-way point when it dawned on me – there are two different ways they could walk home.  We hadn’t discussed which way they were going to walk.  If I picked the wrong path, I would miss them completely and they would go home to an empty house and think Mom didn’t even care enough to be home to see how their first day went.  I turned around and walked back home.  At least they won’t know I was helicopter Mom now.

Twenty minutes after dismissal passes and they still aren’t home. Common sense told me dismissal takes longer than normal on the first day and the kids aren’t going to sprint home, but I still wondered if one of my premonitions had happened.  To the car I go.  I drive to the end of our street and as I turn onto the next street, I see them.  Almost home.  Not on the route I was walking on to meet them, of course.  They were happily walking on the side-walk, grinning from ear to ear.  I thought about slouching down in the seat and backing down the street back to our house so they wouldn’t see me, but it was too late.

They walked over to my car and, as predicted, Eric says “What are you doing?”  I sheepishly respond, “just checking.”  He gave me the one eyebrow raised look that I know too well.  As they are standing in the road by my car talking to me, I realize that THIS moment is probably the LEAST safe moment of their walk.  Way to go Mom.

After the friends go to their houses, Eric and Greg sprint home.  They get to our driveway faster than I can drive there.  They race to see who can get on the video game system the quickest as they yell “we don’t have homework, but YOU do!”

I guess they really are ready to walk home alone.  It’s me that isn’t.

Time-out, please!

When toddlers are told to take a nap, they cry.

When children are told to go to their room for a time-out, they cry.

When teenagers are grounded, they cry (well, actually they scream and yell).

When adults realize they never have time to nap, sit in their room or stay home and do nothing…they cry.

“I just took a little nap. I stole it from an infant.
―    Jarod Kintz