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I won’t start this by apologizing for my absence.  Once a year is okay.  Maybe even once a quarter, but if I start all my blog posts with it every time I go to post one, it’s all you’ll ever read.  We’ll pretend like I’m issuing a blanket apology for all those times I go MIA and, voila, I show up.

I’m still unemployed.

We have our garden planted.  Yay!  We actually planted it the first weekend of April.  Olivia and I grew our own starter plants instead of buying them at the store.  I had 80 total and set out almost all of them.  I make a huge gardening faux pas.  I didn’t lable what I planted where.  The only thing I’m really sure of are my zucchini and squash plants.  Everything else is up in the air until it starts producing and then I’ll know.  Except for my carrots because I won’t see them as they are underground.  I was going to remember where I put stuff.  Oh, yeah.  Like THAT would happen.

We took the training wheels off Olivia’s bike.  She’s terrified of it and we haven’t made it out of the front yard yet.  I’m afraid she’s just not ready.  I love her.  A lot.

I haven’t been cooking anything new and exciting and have kind of fallen off the couponing bandwagon.  I still do it, but have been living off my reserve – no, it’s not a stockpile. It’s not that big.  However, I am totally over whole chickens.  That’s not true.  Not just whole chickens.  Just chicken in general.  I’m tired of cooking it.  Except I needed freezer space, so I took one out and, in about three days, I’m gonna have to cook it.

Olivia is still doing well in school.  She won the character ed award for honesty earlier this year and last week she was awarded the Kiwanis Terrific Kid award.  She got a button, certificate and a pencil. I got the bumper sticker you’ve all seen, “Proud Parent of a Terrific Kid.”  That’s where it came from, in case you were wondering.  But it’s not going on my car.  The only stickers I’ve ever had on my car – and they were on the window and not the paint -were my college sticker, my blue star and another military one.  Outside that, I’m not intereste in fancying up my ride.

I’m hooked on Angry Birds.  I’m pissed b/c I had to get a new phone b/c my old new phone wouldn’t answer (less than a month old) and I had to redownload the apps and start all over.

I’m working on something, but I can’t talk about it.  It’s sort of a secret, but not really.  It’s not one I can talk about here yet, but will spill it when the time is appropriate.  It has the potential to be something of substance for many involved, but it’s way too early.  Some of y’all know what it is.   It netted me a trip to the beach yesterday, but had to come home b/c W was supposed to have jury duty.  I hope to go back next week.  And I’ll be staying at least overnight so I can enjoy a glass of wine listening to the waves roll in.  That and it’s a long damn trip to go and come back in a day.

I’m thrilled OBL is dead and am super proud of the special ops team who did it.  Hooah!  But we need to keep our thoughts focused or we become vulnerable.  Our military always has one eye open so we can rest with both eyes closed. 

I have a lot of friends with a lot of stuff going on who could use some well-wishes.  And keep us on your list, too.  Please.

Happy May!

Who doesn’t search for it?  Who doesn’t sit back and ponder, “exactly what is happiness?”  Some might say it comes chocolate dipped.  Others might say it’s  a fat, big ‘ol gut bustin’ piggy bank.  Apparently, it’s a little more simple than that…

No tan lines.  Crap.  I just knew a fat piggy bank and a gold box marked G0diva held my bliss.   While I appreciate finding the answer, my take on it is this:  It must be for those who have the ability to turn a color other than pink and fish belly white.  ‘Cause I’m a religious SPF50 girl who, if not careful, can burn by the light of the moon.   I know you’re all just dying to know where I found this gentleman sporting the faded blue tank…in the sporting goods department at the Wal Marks while waiting to get my salt water fishing license so I could enjoy the day trolling the ocean blue catching fish with my little Fabul-O.

And just so you know, I’m still holding out hope on the chocolate and a fat bank roll.

This morning Will, Olivia and I were at Cracker Barrel and our waitress came up to us and said, “I have to tell you that a patron in the restaurant has paid for your breakfast. Please don’t ask me any questions because I can’t tell you any more than that.” I was stunned. We’ve had people pick up our tab before, but it’s always been 1. someone we know or 2. Will was in uniform. Today we were in shorts and t-shirts after having left the farmer’s market. We have no idea if it was someone we know and didn’t see or if it was a total random act.

I asked the waitress to please pass along our most gracious thanks to whoever it was.

And, yes. We will pay it forward.

Fabul-O is on vacation with my parents.  She left Wednesday night and is enjoying five days of constant doting, late bedtime, boat rides, fishing and learning about crab pots.  She’s having a blast.  She’s also informing my mom that we bought her.  I thought when we addressed it and she said she understood how adoption works, etc. that we could move on.  Apparently, her little brain isn’t quite sure how to process the information and use it. She still has seeds of doubt because she is harping on it.  That’s what she does when she can’t wrap her mind completely around something and make it make sense.  I’m fine with that because I know how she functions and it helps me to come up with my next plan of attack.  I read another mom’s blog tonight and it appears that she’s facing a similar situation at her daughter’s preschool class.  And it chaps my ass.  Really.  Truly.


Those who know me in real life know two aspects of my reactions…one is of a calm, cool, collected, let’s see how it works out before we do anything else.  When I reach my breaking point, the other is one who takes no crap from people and lays a verbal smackdown that leaves them cross-eyed.  Regarding things with O, I have to watch how I say things and what I do because of, “out of the mouths of babes.”  Or do I?  Why do I always have to be the one with the good manners and the soft approach?  Why do I have to be the one that has to explain how screwed up everyone else is in their closed-minded ways of thinking?  Why do I have to take the doormat approach and let them verbally smack around my family while I listen to half-hearted apologies and then accept it while turning the other cheek.  Let’s leave being Christian out of this for a minute or two.  I am strong in my faith and know about turning the other cheek, etc.  But I am tired of it.  Plain and simple.  My mother is 4 hours away not 100% sure how to handle the conversation with Olivia.  I told her how I handled it and she carried through with the consistency.

I’m tired of it.  I’ve gotten many compliments on the way I handled the situation and how I expressed concern.  Do y’all really want to know what I think?  This is it…


I’m sick and tired of some azzhole parent/relative/friend of/person/whoever thinking they have the G*d given right to say whatever lays on the end of their tongue in front of children, or grown-ups for that matter.  You know what? Screw your “freedom of speech.”  When you are affecting the molding and shaping of my child with your racist, asinine, uninformed opinions and ideas, you lose that right.  You can cuss your child, you can do whatever you want to with yours, but leave mine out of it.  If you have questions about where Chinese babies come from, let me tell you.  If you want to assume you know why we adopted, let me clear it up.  If you think your closed-minded, selfish, misinformed information is the gospel, you are wrong.  You people don’t know anything about me.  I didn’t grow up in your community.  My child has gone to your school because of convenience and you have a Chr*st centered program.  Wanna know how that’s going for you? It’s sucking hugely in the pre-K classes, FYI.


When Olivia pushed a child, I addressed it head on the with affected parent and child.  When Olivia made fun of your child because he has a big head…Oh, wait.  She didn’t do that because I taught my child that all people are different and the way they look is how they are supposed to and how would she like it if people poked fun at her.  OH, wait.  They do.  And she takes it because that is what a grown-up is supposed to do.  But she’s not a grown up.  She’s a 5-year-old who wants to say, “screw you,” but is afraid because it goes against what I taught her.  She knows it’s not right when kids say mean things and call her names and try to make her eat bugs because “that’s what Chinese people do.”  She is a 5-year-old who practices restraint, grace and composure.  She is a 5-year-old who wants to say your child is an azzhole with a big mouth and deserves to have the ever-loving crap beat out of him, but she doesn’t because she is a freaking awesome kid who turns the other cheek.  She gets angry and knows it’s not fair that she has to take shit but no one else does.  She has approximately 6 weeks left at this school and then we’re moving on to the next phase of her post-toddlerhood life.  For the next 6 weeks, she can respond however she wants to.  I’m tired of being the one who has to listen to the school apologize for other kids and parents.  You know what, it’s time for you to apologize on behalf of the Chinese kid who stood up for herself and quit taking crap.  She’s not a “meek” child.  She is a well-mannered child who is learning to choose her battles.  Unfortunately, you are making it hard for her to differentiate between a battle and a regular day at school.  It’s a blur because they are virtually one in the same.

To those who want to know what makes my opinions right and theirs wrong?  I tell you.  It’s facts.  You don’t have to do mounds of resarch.  G00gle it.  It’s fact.  It’s common sense stuff, people.  Stop gossiping.  Stop it.  Stop it.  Be an adult and STOP IT.  You want to pick a fight, do it with me.  I am the representative of my family.  I am dying to let you know how it feels to be belittled and made to feel inadequate.

I am a nice person.  Most days one of the nicest people you’ll meet.  I say that with my head high and with confidence that you can not take away from me. This bullsh*t is making me less nice and I don’t like it.
To wrap up all this rambling that is a direct result of my level of disgust:  You suck and I’m not going to take your crap anymore and I’m going to let my child handle it how she feels is fit.  If she chooses to continue taking the high road, then I’m proud of the little person she is.  If she chooses to tell you how she feels in her own words and way, I’m still proud of the little person she is.  But I will tell you this, if she sheds one tear…one 1/100000 of a tear, I’m stepping in and will likely use words that will make my mother’s jaw drop.  You’ve been warned and I might just do it anyway.

To all non-adoptive parents, friends of non-AP, families of non-AP and anyone else who thinks this might be cute: Please, please, please don’t ever say adopted children are bought to another human being, especially around children who have no filter from their ear to their mouth. Want to know why? Because someone did and their +/-5 year old child heard it and that child told MY child that we bought her from another mommy. If you don’t believe in adoption. Fine. If you don’t believe in International adoption. Fine. If you don’t believe white people need to raise a child of another race then that’s on you. She’s a child. Not a commodity.

This is not the first time this has happened and I know it won’t be the last. Let me just try to tell you how freaking hard it is to stare into the most beautiful brown eyes God ever placed in a child’s head and see doubt about our family dynamic. Again. Do you know how hard it is to tell a child, without being utterly rude and disrespectful, that someone surely must have smoked crack or was just plain ignorant when they made that statement? Do you know how hard it is to try and teach your child patience, manners, love, tolerance and understanding for others and then try to reassure them that your teachings are good things and the behavior exhibited by others is what is not right? It’s hard. There is no hiding anything about Olivia’s past or how we became a family. We embrace it. We cherish it. We are privileged that we are adoptive parents. On top of that, we are PROUD of it. We aren’t saints because we adopted. We didn’t do a good deed. And I assure you it is not my ticket into Heaven.

I work hard to instill good values in my child and it shows. She is one of the most polite, well-mannered children and I’m proud to say that’s my teaching. Something else I’m having to teach her, much earlier than I had planned, is that a lot of times people don’t think before they speak and, even if they do, they don’t realize how just out of touch with reality some comments are. I’m learning that 5 is a very delicate age. Olivia is learning to define herself with the things she does. She’s a girly-girl and puts on two coats of lip gloss every morning. She crosses her legs and sits up straight. She thinks being a princess is marvelous half the time and the other half she and her superhero friends spend saving the world. If I tell her once I tell her 100 times how much I love her. She knows she is one of my favorite people in the world and that there is no love greater than our love. Something else also works to define her: the people with whom she interacts – mainly on the playground. It takes me so much time to undo the meanness, the bad words and all the other traits that she has picked up from other kids. A key phrase at Chateau L is, “just because so-and-so does it doesn’t make it right.” And it doesn’t. And I know that not everyone believes the way we do, but the core values we teach are the common sense, across the board, everyone should have them values.

You have a right to your thoughts, opinions and beliefs the same that every other person does, but what you don’t have the right to do is make my child feel she is less than adequate because she doesn’t fit your mold. Every parent wants to protect their child, and I’m no different. My final lesson to Olivia was this: Ignorance isn’t born. It’s learned and some people just don’t get it.

Be mindful of what you teach your children, please, because I’m getting tired of explaining you to my child.

One of my besties, Shannon, is raising money for Autism Awareness.  Last weekend she hosted a banging little get together at her place to raise some money and they are only $95 from their very modest goal.  If you have a few bucks to spare, http://www.trianglerunwalkforautism.com/.  As we all know, every little bit helps and it is tax deductible.  Colin is her nephew and a very, very sweet little boy.  And, yes,  Shannon is walking.

The gala was a success.  I’ll write more about it and post a couple of pictures when I have my card reader and I’m not lazy.  My cookbook sold and we won an American Flag inspired afghan in the silent auction.  There were a few tears shed in remembrance of those who paid the ultimate sacrifice for our freedoms and many rounds of applause for those who continue to stand for our freedom.

In a nutshell….Awesome night.

xoxo

It’s happened.

Well, the first thing that happened is some snot nosed kid pointed out the obvious to Olivia that she’s not white, to which she retorted, “Duh, I’m Chinese.”  Good for her.  He followed up by telling her she had to eat the bug on the slide because she was Chinese.  She came home and told me and it was during one of my bad health weeks so I didn’t address it immediately with the school.  When I asked her who said it, she told me it was some new kid, he was older than her and she didn’t know his name.  I told her – in age appropriate conversation – that she didn’t have to take crap off this kid and to tell him people from XYZ county eat bugs do.  Wanna share?  Then I told her not to eat bugs.  Eating bugs was gross and the only time she should eat bugs was if she was ever lost in the woods and had nothing else to eat, but she should never find herself lost in the woods because she’s supposed to be holding my hand.  Then the conversation took a HUGE right turn when she started talking about packing snacks, having maps and compasses and going to the magenta forest.  I knew I had reached maximum capacity for that conversation, but she’s not stupid.  She got the point.

This past weekend the mother of all conversations came up.  We’ve been having some problems with Olivia being sassy and her manners are waning a bit.  She’s also been overly clingy with Will, wanting to sleep with the light on, not wanting to go into a room if the lights are off and not wanting to be left alone.  I think I found our reason.  Over the weekend, she chimed in with, “you’re not my real mommy so it doesn’t matter.”  I swear had I been tackled by an entire NFL team I could not have had the wind knocked out of me any harder.  Now, when I hear something of this nature, I always try not to overreact to it initially because, if I do, Olivia shuts down and I won’t be able to find out where it came from because she thinks she’s getting in trouble.  I wasn’t as successful as I had hoped and got all sorts of different answers from her.  I told her just because she was from China didn’t mean I wasn’t her mommy and families were formed all different ways.* After all, who made her legs feel better when they hurt the night before?  Of course the answer was me, so that helped to seal it a little bit more.  I followed up with every single reassuring thing I could come up with.  At some point over the past couple of weeks, this same almost 3rd grader decided it was his place to tell Olivia that I wasn’t her real mommy.

I’m gonna tell you flat out…my feelings were hurt.  Very hurt.  No one expects their four year old to tell you they don’t have to listen to you because you aren’t their mommy.  Especially a four year old who knows no other family dynamic other than the one in which she currently lives.  While it explains a lot of her behaviors, it certainly doesn’t excuse it.  We strive so hard to lay a good foundation of a family for her.  Heck no we’re not perfect.  Not even freaking close.  Who is?!  We have rules.  We’re not afraid to punish when it’s needed, we praise when necessary and I’m certainly not above ye olde bribery.   One of the “rules” we have around here is when there’s trouble that has been gotten into and the punishment’s been doled out, we talk about it.  It is important to me that Olivia understand the consequences of her actions and the choices that she makes.  It has always worked like a charm.  People used to look at me like I was crazy, but it was something I started early on, have stuck to it and it works.

I talked to the teachers at Olivia’s school and am proud to say they took it as seriously as I did.  They were able to find out which little boy said it and he admitted it.   The administrator had him apologize to Olivia, his parents were called in and they will punish him appropriately.  The hardest part is trying to erase that little seed of doubt that’s been planted in Olivia’s mind.  We haven’t made a big deal out of it and we won’t.   What has been discussed about it has been discussed and that’s that.  Life moves on and so will we.

I knew it was coming, but I guess this just proves that my baby really is growing up. The harsh reality of what is to come started on the playground just two short weeks ago.  4K starts in a couple of weeks and I’m afraid my ears will start bleeding if I hear one more reminder to buy her backpack.

————————————-

*We’ve tried the whole “China mommy” conversation and Olivia has had ZERO interest in it.  We’ve read the age-apropriate books, she knows the province she’s from in China, blah, blah, blah.  So, we throw tid bits out there and if she’s interested she asks questions otherwise she just blows it off.  In her own time.  Even though it’s not my first, second or third choice, I guess if it takes some kid making fun of her on the playground to do it, I guess that’s what it takes.  Can’t make her want to digest it.

Thanks to everyone who donated to us!  We achieved our very modest goal.

It was really hard pumping up the fact Olivia had to wake waaaaay before Mr. Golden Sun was to rise.  We met Shannon and Emily early and rode the light rail into uptown where we walked several more blocks to where the race was.  I’m not sure what word to use to describe the feeling I felt.  The runners started very early and were beginning to finish when we arrived uptown.  Seeing a man run in a pink skirt with a pink crown in honor of someone in his life is simply amazing.  Then we saw another one.  And another one.  There were so many “In Honor of ‘Me'” tags people were wearing as well as those walking in honor or memory of their friends and loved ones.  There were fraternities, sororities, companies, friends, and teams made up of all sorts of people.  We were our team of four: Me, Fabul-O, Shannon and Emily.   We didn’t complete the full three miles of the walk due to lack of interest from the little participants.  Thanks Shannon and Emily for a fun time this morning.  The next time I see Shannon she’ll be walking again, but it will be down the aisle getting married. 

  

Susan and Olivia

Shannon and Emily

Shannon and Emily

Be sure to look up to the left...LOTS of people

Be sure to look up to the left...LOTS of people. We were nowhere near the back of the pack!!Pretty in Pink. These folks let us know they were a fun crowd, but not in front of children. Their mimosas and Bloody Mary

"We walked to hep peoples go to the doctor to keep the boobies happy."
If you ask Olivia what we did today, she’ll tell you, “We walked to hep peoples go to the doctors to help keep boobies happy.”   She even gave me $5 from her piggy bank to put towards the money we raised.  I love this kid!!

Last night we went out to eat dinner and there was a family there whose son was dressed up like something.  I’m not hip on my superheroes or costumes, so I don’t know what he was. 

I know kids go through phases of things they want to wear all the time.  However, Will and I made a pact, solidified with a pinky swear, that there is no salad worth having if Olivia has one of these phases.

Yes, intentionally misspelled.  That’s how Fabul-O says it.  Moons and moons ago, she got the notion that whenever she sees an airplane, it’s going to Myrtle Beach, SC. 

About 18 months ago, we bought a vacation thingy and finally got the opportunity to go.  Auntie Amy took off work and we had packed our treasures and headed down to MB for the weekend.  It was supposed to be Friday through Monday, but I had to work Monday so we just used it as an opportunity to check out at 5 in the afternoon.  What was supposed to be a fantastico trip had its moments.  Oodles of them.

Start with packing.  I am missing four sandals.  Not two pair, but one of each of four pair.  I suppose, technically, that means I still have two pair of sandals with two matching pair somewhere.  I guess I could treat it like those little cake matrices in the women’s magazines.  You know the one: pick a mix, a fruit and an icing and you can have up to 966 different versions of cake.  I didn’t find but so much humor in it.

Fabul-O’s bathing suit left behind.  Thank goodness for an all night Wol-Marks and clearance.  $3 – bargain.

Let the games begin…So, it all started when we got into town and went to our welcome center to check in.  I was told when I booked our dates to call prior to departing and specify the type of room I wanted.  Goody. We like suites and possibly a kitchenette.  (Auntie Amy was bringing her wonderful Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville margarita maker).  I call and pretty much get laughed at.  Then transferred.  I was told I was not able to specify ahead of time and to talk to the peeps at the welcome center, but don’t worry this hotel has suites with kitchenettes.  I get there and am told that had to be done at the hotel.  So we get to the hotel and I’m told the package I paid for did not include a suite so I offered to pay the difference and upgrade.  Nope.  (insert mega frustration here)  Fine.  Give us our keys.  This is where the poo hits the fan.  The rooms are SMALL and nasty.   We were pretty much screwed at this point.  It was paid for a long time ago so there was no disputing it with the credit card company and, because I got a special rate, if we left then they would bill my c/c the whole amount to the tune of about $600.  Before you think that I should have known better, we are timeshare peeps and this was offered through our timeshare company and we’ve taken these little get away trips before without a hitch or problem.   I asked the front desk to 1. move us – they said no b/c hotel is full.  2. I wanted to see if the rooms in the “tower” were as nasty as ours or was it because we were on a promotional trip and we got the ghetto floors.  Again, told no.   FINE.  I would certainly express my discontent later.

Fast forward to dinner.  We wanted to hit outlet shopping Friday night because last weekend was the sales tax holiday weekend in SC and we figured Saturday the outlet malls would be a madhouse.  So, we ate at Ruby Tuezday.  Love their salad bar.  We walk in and the hostess tells us to follow her, but not before she tells Will, “grab that chair and bring it with you.”  We were dumbfounded.  I’ve never been asked to haul my seating in any restaurant.  She kept on walking, but with Will’s back, I carried the chair.  Waitress super sweet.  Manager came by and asked how we were, I was still a bit taken aback about the whole bring my own chair ACROSS the restaurant so I told him.  He comped our beer and all was well.  That was until the hostess came over, hand on hip and asked did I tell on her.  Yup.  Sure did.  You don’t ask a patron to carry their own seating across the restaurant to the table.  She looked me dead square in the eyes and said, “well, I didn’t tell you anyway.  I told HIM” and pointed at Will.  Who cares who you told, you did it and THAT is the point.  This went back and forth and finally I had enough.  I told her to leave my table and if she wanted to talk about it later, she can talk to me after I finish dinner with my guests.  And I turned back around to the table and she muttered and off she went.  Manager came back and I expressed my displeasure with being confronted by the hostess at my table.  His face drained of all color, apologized profusely and offered up free desserts.  We didn’t want it and dinner was good aside from that so all was well; just keep her away from us.  She glared as we left the restaurant, but didn’t utter a word to us.  Beyotch.

Shopping: Great.  Lots of good deals and no sales tax.

Bedtime: Nightmarish.  Olivia loves going to a hotel, but for some reason decided she had enough of vacation fun and wanted to go home.  I was on my way to WM to buy her a bathing suit and Will called to tell me we weren’t going to have to worry about the nasty room that we were for sure going to get kicked out.  Fabul-O was in super, duper, kick butt meltdown mode.  Screams could be heard for miles.  Finally, at some point, she collapsed around 11:30 because I got back at almost midnight and she was sacked out.  With her purse. 

Saturday: We went to Ripley’s Aquarium because Olivia loves fishies and all things fishies and stands and admires the humongous goldfish at our favorite Chinese restaurant.  Well, devil in disguise wasn’t having any part of it.  None what so ever.  The first thing we came to was the pirate display and the dark of it and the music frightened her, I guess.  All I know is the most ear-piercing scream rang out through the aquarium.  Calming words from mommy.  Big hugs and some serious negotiations.  We found snack bar and bought popcorn and apple juice, two of her favorite things.  She threw her shades on and we tried again.  Nope.  Ain’t happening.  So, Will took her to see if he could calm her down.  Nope.  They were invited to leave, but I didn’t know this because I had left my phone in the car.  Amy and I did a quick tour and found them baking in the white hot of the sun when we were done.  Olivia had to go to the bathroom, but refused to let him take her.  She finally let me and it is a wonder she lasted that long.  We left.  Nothing else to do, but leave.  What did she say on the way to the car? “I like fishies.”  Seriously.  We went back to the hotel for some pizza and a forced nap.  6 pm we all got up for dinner and headed to one of our favorite seafood restaurants, Landry’s.  Dinner was delicious and the dessert was even better.  We walked around to some shops and picked up a few things and as we got closer to the area that had music/night life sounds, Olivia freaked out again.  She said it was too loud and she didn’t like it.  So, we left. 

Sunday morning we got up, had breakfast, did some more shopping and we went to visit the people who screwed us on our accommodations.  More blame passed.  I filed my written complaint, picked up a free weekend stay (sarcastic yippee) and we went back to the hotel to pack and come home.

Aside from the room, it was a fun stay and Olivia enjoyed the pool and the ocean.  We got lots of seashells and made tons of sand castles.  We loved seeing Auntie Amy and each time Olivia woke up, the first thing she wanted to know was, “Where’s Auntie Amy?  Next time she sleep in my room.”

Amy: thanks for joining us.  We had a great time and can’t wait to see you again. 

The big outcome of this little mini-vacay is a scrubbed trip to Disney.  Yes, we had our big family vacation planned for Disney at the end of this month.  I’ve had it booked for months, but cancelled all reservations, including our dinner with Cinderella.  Olivia isn’t too happy about that, but I’m not willing to risk misery in the hell hot of August in Florida if she decides to freak out.  So, we’re saving that one for our post-deployment vacation.  Besides, hopefully then it will be cooler.  When I originally booked our rooms, the lady asked, “August?  You’re sure about your dates?”  Yes, I didn’t pick August on purpose, it’s just the way our cards fell.  Now that the Guard has will on LOD, he won’t be attending his school, but he is unable to change his vacation time at work, so there’s a little bit of “Yee-haw” on the vacation horizon.

Pictures to follow…my card reader is being less than agreeable.

I’m absolutely disgusted over this.  

I reentered the link above, but here’s the address if the link doesn’t work: http://www.pittsburghlive.com/x/pittsburghtrib/opinion/columnists/seate/s_573477.html

If his wife didn’t already have his balls hanging from her rear-view mirror, I’d go for them.  Obviously she has them, why else would he have “… sat through not one, but two, chick flicks with my wife in as many weekends”?

I don’t even know what my rational response is right now because the response I started to him went a little something like this:

Asshole.

I dare anyone to tell me face to face my child is less deserving of a home than any other child in the world, especially some classless, nadless asshole who doesn’t have a f-ing clue.    I. Dare. You.

And as far as him being a journalist?  You can put kittens in the oven, but it doesn’t make them biscuits.

I googled this columnist’s name last night and it appears this is his style.  His bigotry and racism spreads far and wide, which he pawns off as “jokes.” 

Last night I also thought about my initial reaction to what he wrote and I was somewhat ashamed of myself.   I thought about deleting my post, but then I decided not to.  It was my initial reaction and, while I’m not proud of it, it is still my reaction.  Some things chap me and this is one of them.   Maybe I’m being thin-skinned, maybe I’m not.  

So, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that he’s found a new since of self in being proactive with children who need forever families.  I’ll be looking for his follow up article talking about fostering and adopting some of these children he is so concerned about.  Oh, yeah.  What about the white kids who are in the foster care system?  I guess only black, biracial and Latino children are the ones special enough to make his list of domestic “must haves.”   What?  Surely you don’t think he would cast stones if he wasn’t already working on becoming an adoptive parent himself.

Pompous jerk.

 

I have a theory on Fridays…I typically don’t like them because Friday is 3 short days away from Monday, which are historically crazy/bad days. Therefore, I like Wednesday as it is 3 short days from my weekend. Think about it.

That being said…

It’s Friday and, I promise you, it’s not a day too soon.

This morning I got to experience a few of my favorite things.

1. Delightful kisses from my delightful daughter. “Good morning, mommy,” she told me with a big smile and crusty eyelids as I moved in for the wake up call. That was the end of the pleasantries from her. It was an uphill battle all the way out the door. Don’t tell anyone the t-shirt she wore to school is the same one she slept in last night. That battle wasn’t worth fighting. She’s double jointed, strong and stubborn as granddaddy’s prize mule. I ended up leaving her in a crying heap in the bathroom because I put the watermelon flavored toothpaste on the YELLOW Snoopy toothbrush, not the PINK one. Needing to leave the house soon, I conceded and got the pink one out of my bathroom and put on said toothpaste. Not good enough…”I can do it all by myself.” Toothbrush rinsed off and toothpaste reapplied by her. It wasn’t enough toothpaste – yes it is (insert speech on the perils of too much toothpaste) Toothpaste wasn’t cold – room temp is the best for toothpaste. If you don’t believe me, brush your teeth and we’ll call daddy and ask him. The toothbrush was wet. I have never uttered the word “duh” with my child. Ever. That is until this morning. Seriously? She’s the one who won’t let you put paste on it unless you douse it with water first not to mention she made me wash the other toothpaste off. I’ll skip shoes, vitamins and breakfast menu, but I think you can guess the paths those took.

2. About 11 minutes into my commute, I move over into the far right lane because I have to turn right off one highway onto another and every.single.time I try to drive in the center or left lanes, I have a terrible time moving over. Sooo, I stay put and have found it really takes no more time to get to my turn, only a smattering of patience. Enter the not-so-patient uber tailgater. This is the person that doesn’t understand you can only go as fast as the person in front of you. Dude moved up so close to me, I not only lost sight of his headlights, but half of his hood, too. Doesn’t he understand that he becomes my new trailer hitch if I had to even think about my brakes? How ’bout you move over into one of the other TWO lanes and pass me, mmmk? Oh, wait. That’s not an option because you like knowing the fact I have my 3 yr. old in the car is the only thing keeping me from letting you eat the azz end of my car. He FINALLY moves over and guess who I meet at the next stop light. Yup. Two more lights. Yup. Guess who has to make the same right hand turn I do, but had a hard time getting over. Yup. Guess who ends up back on my bumper for the next 16 miles of our journey. Yup. Guess who maintained a 56 m.p.h. speed? Yup. Hey, they’re doing construction. I can’t afford the fine or the license points.

3. In the zone, we are all cruising at our safe speed until one car sees a cop with an unlucky soul pulled over on the other side of the highway. What does he do? Slams on breaks causing 2 tractor trailers to squeal, swerve and smoke up the highway. I’m a nerd; I typically practice safe driving distances…I had plenty of room to slow it down. Uber tailgater? Swerve right taking up some grass on the shoulder of the road because he isn’t a nerd and doesn’t practice safe driving distances. We don’t just slow down a few m.p.h. We crawl at 30 m.p.h. never making it back up past 45 for fears of being the next unlucky soul. (I promise you this was not a situation, where slowing down to provide a safety cushion for cop or driver was an issue. They were well off the road – on the other side of the highway – and the traffic approaching them had no highway space issues to contend with)

4. The last 19 miles of my trip is a two lane highway with now and again passing zones. I’m behind the one driver I loathe to get behind. The exhaust on his truck is terrible and he leaves a Pig-Pen type cloud behind him. He goes 40 in a 55 m.p.h. no-passing zone. He goes 65 in a passing zone. Back to 40. Up to 65. If I try to pass him, I have to go ridiculously fast because he speeds up. I’m not okay with that. Mainly because of the schedules of the law enforcement folks who travel the same roadways and I can’t afford that ticket or points, either.

Olivia made it to school unscathed. I made it to work with sanity mostly intact.

Good morning, internets! Did I mention I’m glad it’s Friday?

I’m fortunate enough to have great readership and I’ve only had a couple of instances where people have chosen to use my comments to slam me or my choices. The most recent was the end of last week. Some time back I wrote this post after O’s doctor left and the crappy service I received from the receptionist. It blew over and I moved on.

This comment was left April 20, which I have since deleted:

Author : joab

Comment:
I think that you over reacted. It seems utterly pointless to ponder the question ” What if I was one of the women who was extremely sensitive to not having kids of her own? “. You weren’t offended by that remark, but you recommended that someone lose their job for that anyway? And, if you’re going to blog about your over estimated self importance, at least use proper grammar.

I tried to email my response but since the coward left a fake email address, I’m sure he or she will graze back by to see if I’ve responded. I say that not with “over estimated self importance” but confidence as that is what trolls do.

While I always appreciate people who stop by and read my blog and leave comments, I think yours is just a tad bit out of line and think it was quite ballsy of you to leave such an asinine comment. According to my blog stats, you found mine by searching “doctor office staff rude.” Does Yampa Valley Medical Center know you use your work time to surf blogs?

First of all, my grammar is fine. If you are referring to the use of “Them” it was what I simply called the office girl vs. Sally, Susie or Jane. It’s what I started with and continued with.

Secondly, when I posted that if it were up to me she would be gone, it was because of her attitude and “customer service.”

Thirdly, my self importance is not over estimated and for you to judge as such based on one visit is absurd and if it is, why should you care?. I am one of the least self absorbed people anyone will ever meet. So my question to you is this: what puts you in such a position that you feel you have the power to criticize my self importance? Oh, wait, that would make you a hypocrite. You did pretty much what you accuse me of doing…different scenario, different words, same thing.

It’s not a shock, but this is *GASP* my blog and I’ll blog about what I choose and how I choose. Should you ever happen back on my blog, I would kindly ask that you refrain from asinine comments that slam me or anyone. Better yet, exercise your choice to stay away and neither of us will have to be bothered.

Susan

I know most of you in the adoption community have read the following article in one place or another this past week:

BIG BABY GIRL SALE – ONLY $17,000! – Jim Dossett

The Chinese have given us many things; gunpowder, spaghetti, woks,
Jackie Chan. Oh yes, they’ve also been delighted to give us their
discarded children. Actually, they’re delighted to sell us their
kids. And government officials have laid down new ground rules for
foreigners who want to adopt children from China’s overflowing
orphanages.

Prospective adoptive parents must not be obese; no more than 50
years old; must not take antidepressants; must not have severe
facial deformities. So the bottom line is, if you take up two seats
on a plane, are a member of AARP, take Prozac, or resemble the
Elephant Man – No Chinese kids for you!

Mind you, these edicts are issued by a culture where parents
traditionally leave female babies at orphanages or by the roadside
because they wanted a son, or because the government allows them
only one child. Ninety-five percent of the children available for
adoption are girls. I’m amazed that one of the world’s oldest
civilizations, dating back to more than six millennnia, still
doesn’t realize that women are the best of us all.

I doubt whether many Campbell Countians would be eligible to adopt a
Chinese baby – not because we’re fat, old, or grotesquely deformed –
but because it costs more to buy a child in China than many of us
make in a year.

According to Chinese baby brokers, the estimated total cost of a no-
frills adoption, not including travel, is about $12,000. The
estimated total cost plus travel for two is $17,120.00 – such a deal.

“End of Year Sale! Get your certified, pre-owned girl child for the
amazing price of $17,120! She’s a beauty despite a few minor
scratches and dents, but comes with a manufacturer’s warranty – no
surprises under the hood or the diaper!”

Once the bucks are shelled out for the kiddie commodity, who knows
where the money ends up. Maybe some of the cash trickles into the
new charity created by the China Center for Adoption Affairs. This
burgeoning group of capitalists is hopeful the charity will improve
conditions in orphanages and “keep infants and young children alive
and well enough to be adopted.” It makes you wonder about the fate
of toddlers who are not well.

Despite the high costs and stringent rules issued by the baby
dealers, childless couples from the U.S. and around the world still
flock to China in hopes of bringing baby home. God bless you decent
souls. Stick religiously to your pretrip diets of carrot sticks and
cottage cheese and look forward to the fat and happy times you’ll
have raising your baby girl!

When Paula Zahn did her crappy show, I didn’t send an email although it was sickening to hear such crap spewed forth. This time I did send one and I, like others, got a response back but I think those of us this late in the week got a different canned response than the rest of you:

My email:

Dear Staff:

I am sure you have received numerous emails regarding Mr. Dossett’s article about adopting children from China. We, like thousands of other parents, have the joy and pleasure of being parents to a daughter from the Chongqing province in China who was adopted one year ago yesterday. We put no specifications ( i.e. specifically requesting a daughter) in our petition to adopt, simply requesting to be parents of a child. We were referred the most beautiful little girl who has a personality that is a perfect match with our family. Had there been any issues with our child, we would have gladly have approached and treated them appropriately, just as we would a biological child. Our daughter was 11 months old at referral and we have friends who have adopted special needs and non-special needs of all ages up to age 12.

Adoption, or to “buy a child” as Mr. Dossett refers to it, is quite expensive, domestic or international. If he would have researched more thoroughly, he would have found that the majority of the monies paid are here within the United States to our government and adoption agencies. Only about $4, 500.00 is paid in country and includes the orphanage donation, medical exam, visa and passport. To adopt a child is an emotionally taxing decision and is not one to be entered lightly, which we did not. After rallying friends for letters of recommendation, two sets of fingerprints, background checks, home study and mountains of documents to be authenticated, we were approved to be parents. Adoptive parents are scrutinized from income and tax information to our homes and the type of environment our children will be raised in. We are far from wealthy, in terms of money, but we work hard to make sure we have created the best possible environment for our daughter to learn and grow in.

Our daughter spent the first 13 months of her life in an orphanage that is sponsored by an American foundation. This foundation raises money for orphanages throughout China to help maintain an environment in which the children can learn and thrive while there. There are special programs created for infants to allow caregivers to hold and nurture children, something that is critical in the early months of their lives. There are classes set up for school aged children. Orphanages are being renovated and built. As sad as it is, for many of these children, it is the closest to a family they will ever have. I invite you to read about their programs on their website http://www.halfthesky.org.

The restrictions China has placed on who is eligible to adopt is their right and you should note other countries have similar restrictions. Where are your articles on those countries? How about Russian children who are abandoned and who are turned out as prostitutes at the age of 14 or so if they aren’t adopted? Guatemalan children who are placed for adoption and the corruption that goes along with those adoptions. Dear sirs, no adoption program is flawless, including ones in the United States. While we will never know the circumstances surrounding our daughter being abandoned, we are only thankful she is part of our family. We choose not to romanticize something we simply do not know but not one time will you ever hear us, or other adoptive parents, criticize her birth parents for their decision.

It is appalling to read such a bigoted article and that editors would allow such dribble to be printed, regardless of any sarcastic undertone or tongue in cheek intended. In the perfect world I should not have to explain my family dynamic to anyone but, since I do, articles such as this one have made a mockery of family dynamics world wide (as Chinese children are adopted by other countries and not just the U.S.) and will be the reason we are put in the position of answering asinine questions that are raised by readers whose only information is what they read in such articles.

I respect your freedom of speech but I must say it is disappointing to know a “journalist” wrote an article with such a bigoted and racist view.

I also invite you to look at the attached photos of our daughter. The daughter you say is “a beauty despite a few minor scratches and dents, but comes with a manufacturer’s warranty – no surprises under the hood or the diaper!” There are a lot of surprises that come along with a child, adopted or not, but for you to refer to our children using verbiage that one would find printed in used car ads is pathetic.

What’s next? Bashing our military and the tour my husband served in Iraq? Or have I missed it already? I can certainly dispel many of your myths and untruths regarding that and will be glad to direct you to others who are more passionate about it than I should you need further clarification.

Sincerely,

Susan

And the response I got:

Susan,Thank you for sharing your photos and this information.

Please allow me to share with you the apology that ran in the next issue following the publication of Jim Dossett’s opinion piece.

 

An apology from

Publisher Linn Hudson

Printed in the Feb. 22, 2007 issue

 

In the past week, the LaFollette Press has received numerous emails regarding Jim Dossett’s opinion piece that appeared last week on the editorial page of our newspaper. I have offered my personal apology to those who have contacted us, and I now extend that apology to our full readership. I have spoken with Jim and he also apologizes.

 

Jim’s comments were aimed at the Chinese government and its policies for adoptions. He did not intend to disparage adoptive children and their adoptive parents.

 

We have learned through this experience we must look at opinion pieces through the eyes of those being discussed. In this instance, we could and should have done a better job in that regard.

 

Jim himself was adopted as a child. Due to this experience, Jim respects and admires those who adopt on a local, national or international level.

 

The feedback we received is appreciated and will help us deal with sensitive topics in the future.

 

I have spoken with a local family who adopted a daughter from China. They are allowing us to feature their positive and uplifting story in an upcoming issue.

 

Either myself or the editor has read each email that we received and we will continue to do so. Please know we take this matter seriously.

 

And lastly, my reply:

Linn:

While I appreciate your reply, it boggles me as to why Jim hasn’t written the apology himself? Maybe it’s just the way it’s done where you are but where I come from people own up to mistakes and blunders such as this. Maybe the power of the pen gives one immunity but I certainly know I would hate to be the one who has to eat all his crow and plow through the muck.

The adoption community is one that is tight knit and spans the globe. Maybe you all should be glad more of us don’t live in your town or I’m sure your readership would grossly drop.

I hope you are sincere when you write this matter is being taken very seriously. I don’t live near you, nor do probably ninety-five percent of the people who emailed you, if not more, but it only took one of your readers to show the rest of us the poor taste of a journalist on your staff.

Sincerely,

Susan

Jackasses.

O’s doctor left the practice about a month ago and the doctor who has replaced him is less than desirable so I was/am on the hunt for a new one. I called my friend J who has two kiddies and asked her who her ped was because she has always spoken so highly of him. I got the number and called. This is how it went:

Them: Blah, blah, blah office.

Me: Hi. This is Susan [insert new ped story here]. My daughter is adopted and I want to make sure Dr. XX is familiar with adopted children.

Them: Yes. (huff, sigh) he sees adopted children all the time.

Me: Great. I’d like to make an appointment to meet with him before I schedule her 2 year check up.

Them: Um. We don’t do that unless you are pregnant. They are the only ones who get to meet with a doctor before hand.

Me: You’re kidding, right?

Them: Um. No.

Me: Hmmm. (thinking I was being overly sensitive) Please set the appt. for xx/xx/07.

Conversation ends.

Now, for me to see a new doctor is okay b/c I’m a grown up and can make my own choices and am pretty much familiar with my ailments. O, on the other hand, is a different story. She’s my first kid and our current office calls us their “mascot,” which I’m not sure if it is a compliment or not. I do know they love O and the office staff is fantastic. I want a doctor who understands me as a first time mom and will treat me the way I think I need to be treated. Plain. Simple. Besides, it’s a hassle to move records and I don’t want to go through it unless I know I like the doctor. So I ran it past Will when I got home and a couple of other folks to see if I was being overly sensitive to Them’s comment about pregnant women. Now, let me start by saying that I’m overjoyed to have Olivia. I am not bitter, upset, down trodden or anything else about the way our family came about. Our family dynamic is great. I decided to sleep on it to see how I felt the next morning. I woke up and still miffed about what was said to me and I decided to cancel the appointment. I called up and spoke with an office gal and explained the whole situation to her and she gasped so much air I swear my hair went through the receiver. She was mortified. As, I think, she should be. She apologized profusely and promised to have a manager call me. Okay. That’s fine but still cancel the appointment. Them was my first contact with their office and I was way less than impressed with her.

Fast forward 3 hours later…office manager calls. I explain it to her again and she apologizes and tells me Them was kind of new so I tell her that if it was up to me, Them would be gone. Out. Finito. But, since it wasn’t up to me, I presumed she would have her apologize for what she said.

Normally I would have probably shrugged this off and chalked it up to pure stupidity and at $5.50 an hour, you get what you pay for but I just couldn’t – not this time. What if I was one of the women who was extremely sensitive to not having kids of her own? Words can cut deeper than hurt more than anything and they needed to know that.

After mulling over it, I’ve decided to leave O at our existing doctor’s office. Since we go to family practitioner, and I expressed my concern about the new doctor, mine was more than happy to take O on as a patient. We really do like them and we never dread going to see them as usually you are in and out in under an hour – maybe an hour and fifteen minutes if you have to have labs drawn.  The same if we’re a work in.  Why try to fix what isn’t completely broken, I guess.

This is a phrase that shows up quite often in our credit union newsletters and I know not to ever give out any account information, passwords, etc. Sunday I checked my email and I had an email from Bl0ckbuster 0nline thanking me for my current subscription. What? I went to their website and requested the password be sent to me. Funny – no security question asked so I went ahead and reset the password so I could look at it since I had no clue about it. When I checked the account information it had my correct billing address and the last four digits of my CREDIT CARD NUMBER! I was mortified so I checked my card account online and there was no strange activity and Bl0ckbuster customer service was closed until this morning. The first time I called the rep told me he needed my full credit card number in order to access the account. Um, no. Look it up by my name. He did, verified shipping information and asked me what city I was born in and we proceeded to talk about the account. I immediately hung up and called to cancel the c/c and report the fraudulent activity. I wanted more info from Bl0ckbuster so I called back and got rep #2. She asked for the c/c number and I, again, told her no and to pull it up by my name. She did asked me the same security question and I answered her. See, here’s the thing. I gave the wrong answer to both reps. When I was talking to Will to tell him not to use his c/c I decided, for giggles, to see if he knew what city I was born in (for the longest time he couldn’t remember my birthday or the color of my eyes). He answered and I told him he was wrong…but, he wasn’t. I was! I always get the city I was born in confused with where I lived for the first few years of my childhood and I have a little ditty I say “I was born in abc, lived in xyz” and then give the city as abc. Not today. I guess I was just so flustered that I gave xyz as my answer and it was WRONG. So, my third call to Bl0ckbuster I had the guy pull up my account and told him I wanted to verify the answer to the security question on the account. He told me what it was and it wasn’t even close. Both other reps had let me get information on the account with the wrong security answer. Nice, huh?

This is what I found out: It was set up via a 3rd party website – they told me they can’t see which one that their legal department will have to look into that and the only way I can get the information is by subpeona. They told me that I supposedly set this up on Saturday. Didn’t happen. Even if I did, by some strange act, I would never have put in the answer they show as the city I was born in. Never. It would never have dawned on me to use it.

Credit card canceled: check.

Affidavit for fraud filled out: check.

Upset over the lack of security for them: check. Thank goodness I don’t have a real account with them and if I did, I would surely cancel it after this.

It’s funny. If I hadn’t told them it was fraud they would have told me every.single.thing about that account but when I try to find out how it was set up their lips grew tighter than bark on a pine tree. Go figure.

New cards will be here next week and there is a pending charge with today’s date from them, which rep #1 told me there wasn’t, rep#2 confirmed her, and rep#3 told me they must have both been smoking crack because he saw it plain as day, which my bank will reverse immediately. (no, he didn’t really say they were smoking crack but did say they didn’t tell me the truth.)

Earlier in the year and then again late spring, we got a letter that our credit information had been “compromised” (read as: lost) from two different places so I watched our credit reports closely and no funky stuff there and one sent a letter that they had investigated and all was well.

People: shred, shred, shred and make sure the sites you are on are secured sites before entering any credit card information. The credit card they used wasn’t one I use anymore and it hasn’t been used for anything in the recent past so who knows how, where or when the information was acquired. One person told me i.d. theft. One told me phishing. I don’t really care I just want it fixed.

Long post full of vent coming up…. 

I saw this post over at Thomas and Emma and felt J’s pain all too well.  I’ve had a few weeks of customer disservice and I’m ready to let it roll.

I am the plan administrator for my company’s health insurance and this year our old health insurance rates were going to go up about 21%.  Not good for a small company – or anyone for that matter.  So, I shopped it.  I found a group plan that had better coverage for less money than we had been paying.  Sweet.  I hook up with a local agent who services this company and we set the process going.  I’ve done this before so there was no need for her to schlep out to our plant and stop the guys in production to sign them up.  I’ll do it.  All ducks in a row and paperwork submitted for the September 1 roll over.  Done?  Nope.  After 6 revisions and some other paperwork all should be in order except the hamster who keyed  in our account can’t spell and can’t read.  I FINALLY get all insurance cards and packets at the office and go through to make sure everyone who showed up on the roster had a card and packet.  First thing I come across are three name spelled wrong – one is an everyday, common name of Brian.  So, I request new cards for these folks on September 13.  Today one of them shows up.  At least they are on the ball with that ONE.  Call to request the others again.  Second call to them in the beginning was to tell them they did not have our PO box and our physical location had no mail receptacle. Please change.  They can’t do that.  Why?  Because the app was filled out wrong.  No it wasn’t.  I know it b/c I did it myself.  So I pull my copy just to be sure before I wax one on the rep and she was wrong.  Apparently my new rep filled out an app for us initially and made the mistake so she screwed up.  15 minutes, 2 phone calls and a fax later it’s resolved.  Third problem was one employee was on my roster but no card was sent for him.  Dyslexic account keyer transposed numbers.  Thank goodness for “Mike” who fixed it without question only asking for a fax of the employees original app with the correct number.  Easy, thanks Mike.  So, 7 weeks after the start of our insurance roll over, it’s complete (I think).  Love, love, love insurance.

My second beef is with Xer0x.  We have a workcenter that is an all in one – print, copy, scan, fax.   We had a paper jam and when the paper was removed, it popped out the roller in the back that routes the paper to come out the front.  After trying for about 45 min to put it back myself, I call Xer0x for a service referral since it’s not under warranty any more.  It was only about $500 to start with so there’s not but so much money I want to put in to repairing it.  They give me the name of a company that is about 1/2 hour away.  I call them.  No, they are sales only.  No service but my new account rep for my area with them is an ex-Xer0x tech he should be able to help.  No.  Of course not.  We need our printer desperately so I call Xer0x to ask can they schedule  service for me.  Sure they can.  $238 for the first 30 minutes and $51 each additional 15 minutes.  Whatever.  I found a company more local who charged far less than that.  I tried to schedule the brain surgery repair last Wednesday and was told maybe Thursday but definitely Friday.  Thursday I call to see where we are on the repair schedule and I was told 1:30.  At 3:30 repair dude calls to tell me he is in a town 2 hours away (I leave at 4 and our office closes at 5) and would someone wait for him.  What?  I’m paying you $170/hr to come fix this beast – how much are you going to pay me to keep someone on overtime to wait for you?  Not going to happen.  Friday comes and go with no repair.  Finally our fuzzy headed repair dude shows up yesterday and tells us we really should pull the paper jam out from the leading edge.  Thanks buddy.  Just fix the freaking printer.  He showed up at 11:20, spent until 11:25 in the bathroom and then breaks out the ‘ol tool kit.  11:31 he’s finished.  He packs up.  Whoa, bud… not so fast.  I’m paying you for another 50 minutes.  Give the machine a once over and clean up under the glass for us – like your boss said you would.  You would have thought I was plucking his eyebrows the way he glared at me.   He huffed and puffed and pulled at his hair but he did it.  He finished up at 12:17.  I was late leaving for grazing but it was sooo worth it.  Oh, the angst of a copy repair man.  Sorry, dude but I needed to get my money’s worth. 

Ahhh…much better.  Thanks for letting me vent.

Saturday my nieces, S&C, were in a fashion show and O and I went to see them.  There were some local vendors set up where you could buy things and some brand name booths were there ,too.  I had O dressed in a cutie pie dress with some green shoes we bought in China.  She had her hair up in piggies and she was on her game.  People were commenting on how cute she was and she was doing her pageant wave and throwing out her best “BYE” with that oh, so cute southern accent.  Then it happened and I became speechless.

We were walking past the O1l1ly table and the two gals staffing it were commenting on how cute O was, blah, blah, blah.  Then the conversation went like this:

Her: Where did you get her outfit?

Me: Gymb0ree.  (She was wearing the navy blue dress with the frogs at the bottom of it)

Her: Oh.  I don’t remember frogs being in the spring/summer collection. 

Me: It’s not.  I bought this back in February for her.

Her: Oh, so it’s from fall ’05?  Well.

Me: Actually, she has it in a 6-12 month, which she’s outgrown.  12-18 mos for now and 18-24 mos to grow into because I thought it was so cute. (BTW, they were like $8 each!)

Her: What about her shoes?

Me: We bought those in China. (they are green squeaky shoes with the squeakers removed)

Her: Hmmm.

She walked away.  That was the end of it. 

I didn’t know what else to say.  She caught me so off guard.  Here we all were at this fashion show to support a charity and we were walking through and she stopped me!!  Now, I know not everyone is this way and, to be honest, she was the only one I encountered at the show – or ever – who reminded me that my kid’s clothes were from two seasons ago.  My goodness, she’d flip if she knew the other half of her collection was from  *gasp* a consignment sale.  Oh, how her head would spin if she knew that O’s stroller is a Peg Pereg0 from the – hold on to your hats – 2004 line. *shell shocked*

I couldn’t believe it.  The comments about O being from China I can handle, maybe because I prepared for it.  Never in a bajillion years would I have guessed my toddler’s outfit would have been used to make me feel like a bad mother.  Maybe it wasn’t her intention but she was quite rude.

Who cares what season it’s from.  Wait until you see her in Fall ’07 wearing the super cute turtle overall outfit that I bought in Feb. ’06 from the fall ’05 collection because she’s too short to wear it now. 

I know, I’m shameless….making my child wear collections from seasons past.  She’s got to learn humility from somewhere.

Give me a break.  She looked cute.  She is cute.  My kid always looks her best (unless her daddy dresses her – and even then she looks good, she’s just mismatched).   I’m a good mom  and keeping up with the tot trends isn’t what defines that.  I’m also a budget shopper who loves a good end of season sale.  Heck, who doesn’t?

It’s What Day?!?

July 2017
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A Little Dusty, But Still A Good Read

How My Words Are Filed