The Twidiots

So....I'm playing around with my blog the other day--checking my stats to see if anyone other than my family is reading.  Not so much, but that's okay.....

I found a 'referring source' that lead to a Twitter Account.....hummm....I don't tweet and know virtually nothing about it.  Lord, if I started 'tweeting', too....my family would only ever see the back of my head.  But, I follow the link and end up at 'someone's' twitter account.  That someone had tweeted a link to my blog.  (cool)

But who is the culprit? 
Again...hummmm.   Being the smart girl that I am, I start putting together the puzzle.  The 'tweeter's' ID included some initials that were familiar to me, the same as my father's.  And a link to my blog?   It's got to be my father.  My Dad is Tweeting?  For real?

Being a 'twidiot' (a twitter idiot, and I want credit when that catches on!), I begin exploring the site.  Off to one side I see the word "Following" and think to myself, "Who is following my father?"  OMG....Barrack Obama??   Britney Spears???  What?  Barrack following Dad I could reason out.  My father has been writing his own blog--He's none to happy with the social security system.  Maybe Barrack is interested in my father's opinions?  Ok--that's possible.  But why would Britney Spears follow my father?

I give the brain a little spin.  Uh....duh....my father is following them!  (Okay, I am blonde...the new smart).  I totally get Dad following Barrack Obama.  Makes sense.  But my father following Britney Spears?  Really?  OMG!  That just kinda weirds me out.  I mean he's my father!  She's a Pop Tart Princess!


(I wonder, does Barrack Obama really tweet?  The President of the United States has has time to tweet?~~I understand Twitter is a form of short, quick communication, but really--no way!  I guess he fulfilled one promise--he created a job--Tweeter for the President.  I bet he has a staff of "Tweeters".  Definitely a job I'm not qualified for--remember--Twidiot.)


Well....I decide to give my Dad a hard time; cuz that's just how I am. 
Out goes the e-mail:
So you're a tweeter now, huh?  And following Britney Spears....interesting.....  ;-)

He replies:

Well sota...

I got on this Twitter thing, but have no clue how it works. Guess I am getting too old for all this new networking technology. I did a couple "Tweets" but have no idea where they went or how I review them, etc, etc,

BTY.. how did you find out that I "Tweet"? Probably I punched in something by accident?

To which I reply:

I'm a very resourceful girl..I can find out all kinds of things...bwahahaha  >;-)

Dad has yet to answer why he is following Britney Spears.  I think it's one of those things I'm going to have to put out of my mind; like the thought of your parents having sex....GROSS!

Why I Like Dogs Better than People--Reason 225

So I'm driving along to pick up my daughter from school.  As I pull into the school complex, I am behind a woman, talking on her cell phone, weaving between the lanes.  At least she was going slow, slow enough that I had to reduce my speed to about 2 miles an hour.  But I didn't give it a thought.  I was just driving along, enjoying the day, looking forward to hearing all about my daughters day.

We pull up beside each other in the parent pickup line, waiting for our children.  She gets out of her car, comes to my window and tells ME, "You really shouldn't tailgate so close in this parking lot."

Well, if she thinks I was tailgating, she obviously doesn't know the meaning of the word.  I tried to keep a car's length between us, which was difficult given she was going 1.5 miles per hour in a 10 mile zone.  But whatever....

Now normally, I am a non-confrontational girl.  Normally I would say nothing, then come home to bitch to my husband.  But her telling me how to drive...well...that just flew all over me. 

I smiled very sweetly and told her that maybe she shouldn't talk on her cell phone while she was driving.  I could see that I had hit a nerve.  Hypocrite was written all over her face.  "Uh...well...at least I was using hands free," she muttered, getting back into her car.

"No you weren't, " I retorted, "I could see the phone in your hand and you weaving all over the road."

This shut her up.  She had nothing more to say to me, but I obviously pissed her off.  As the school Guidance Counselor loaded my daugher into the car, that......uh...I'll be nice....woman flipped me the bird before she drove away.  OMG!  In the school parking lot? With the guidance counselor standing right there??   Are you kidding me?  WTH?  Great example there.....What a Mom!!!
Just one more reason--the more I know people, the more I like dogs!

Zero to Psycho

I just wasn't feeling dinner tonight.  I would have loved to have ordered out, but the 4 shoulder steaks sat staring at me.  Cook us, cook us, they cried.  I tried talking the husband into cooking, but ended up sending him out for dog food instead.  Not for us--the dogs!!!  I should have just gone ahead with what I knew...Swiss Steak....Mom's way, of course.  But there was a recipe on the meat package, so I thought, what the heck--Sweet and Spicy Steak with Onions.

It smelled great cooking, but somewhere in the back of my mind, something felt off.  I'm plating it up and discover that a few of the potatoes I had baked were not fully cooked.  But I went ahead and threw them out there along with the questionable steak dish.  I am not happy with this dish.  The love wasn't in it, and I knew it.

"Sit down to the table and have a look, the first complainer is the next meals cook."  That sign, passed on from my mother, hangs near our table, as it did at my childhood dining table.  And yes,  my children have had to cook the next meal, which is why they now never complain about the food put before them. 

Sitting at the table, passing food around, my oldest made the horrible mistake of telling me he needed money for his lunch account.   My family watched in horror as Mommy Dearest went from 0 to psycho in 2.5 seconds.  It was a frightening sight indeed, my hair standing on end, lightening bolts shooting from my eyes.  At one point I swear my daughter ducked under the table.

Then begins my tirade---"You want, want, want, but you never give, give, give."

Okay, now before put me up for Worst Mother of the Year, let me explain the background as to why asking for lunch money would turn me into the psycho princess.

--At the beginning of October, I sent in enough money to cover his lunch account for the entire month ($2/day).  He is out of money (and owes), yet there is still an entire week left in October.  Oh...he's been buying all the extras, ala carte, Gatorade. 

--Last week I spent $180 for yearbooks, half of which the boys promised to pay, but when the time came to pony up the dough, they had already spent their money on video games....as if they need more.

--Friday afternoon, my son reads me the list of supplies he needs for an upcoming event, to include cases of water and Gatorade, power bars, and 'healthy' snacks for the team, in addition to his own food,.  He also 'needs' $50 for spending money.   He want $10 for a hoodie. (he has 5 hoodies at home) .  He also 'needs' $35 for a monogrammed duffel bag he 'wants'.  My mother does that kind of thing, but no...that's not good enough.

But I want to be a good mom.  I tell my son, of course, we will get the necessary items, but that he's going to have to step up his game at home, do some extra chores if he wants all the extras. 

So...Sunday, I am working in the yard blowing and mowing leaves.  I spend 4 hours at this task.  (lots of leaves and lots of land)  Did my son offer to come help me?  Nope.  .

So, as you can see, I had been inundated with requests for money for days.  I was tired from working all day--alone, with no offer of help.  I didn't really want to cook dinner; which showed.  There was no love in that food.  I hate cooking a bad meal.  My mood was hanging in the balance.

Asking for lunch money tipped the scales.  Poor kid.

Bullies on Parade

I don't like mean people, especially mean little girls who say mean things to my daughter.  Makes me want to claw some eyes out.  But I can't do that.  I am an adult.  I must behave like an adult.  Hummm...maybe I need to make friends with the school bully? 

That's a joke, people. I do not tolerate bullying.  Being on the receiving end of bullying myself, I know exactly how it feels and what it can create.  It's a lonely feeling.  It creates confusion and self  doubt.  You wonder what it is about you that is so flawed.  Speaking for myself, I only wanted people to like me.  I'm sure I was mean from time to time, but I was taught the Golden Rule early on.  Knowing how I felt when I was being bullied, I never wanted to cause that pain in another.  Maybe I'm just weird that way.

My first experience with bullying came in the 2nd grade.  Tom Woods.  When he wasn't hitting me, he would steal my book bag and drop it down the sewer grate.  The school janitor would fish out my murky bag as I stood crying.  I think Tom liked to make me cry.  I had to deal with him for only 2 years, until we moved when I was in 4th grade. 

New Catholic school, new girl trying to fit in with the already established  girl cliques.  I was at an awkward stage in my development.  Coming from fine German stock, add in some prepubescent hormones, one could feasibly say I was 'pleasingly plump'. 

Yeah, my Mom told me that when I was 11.  Thanks Mom!  ;-)

I was kinda quiet and unsure of myself, being the new girl and all.  The girls were mean to me--wouldn't include me their games, called me names.  I felt very left out and alone.  The boys paid me no attention either, being that I was 'awkward'.  I felt very misplaced.  At the end of the school year, I begged to be allowed to go to public school.  I just knew things would be different.

Different....no.....worse.

It started on the school bus and carried on into school.  There was one particular girl, Tina What's Her Name, that just had it out for me.  No particular reason.  I'd never said 'boo' to her.  She lived in my subdivision, so we rode the same bus.   I constantly heard how fat and ugly I was, how nobody liked me.  Now if I could be described as pleasingly plump......Tina could most certainly be described as the plumpest of the plump.  She was twice my size!   Even then I had a 'figure', she was just round!

Tina would often take things from me as we rode the bus.  Candy, pencils, books--whatever.  The candy she would later pass around the to our classmates, a gift from her.  Anger welled in me, but I knew better than to unleash.  Mom and Dad said I could never start a fight, but I could finish one--meaning I couldn't hit first, but I was allowed to hit back.   Since Tina never 'hit me', I felt there was nothing to be done.  My anger and frustration often turned to tears.  This gave her power.


In addition to Tina What's Her Name, Michelle So and So was an additional thorn in my side.  One particular instance that is forever burned in my brain, is of Michelle, along with the entire 5th grade class (or so it seemed at the time) backing me around the playground, threatening to 'beat me up'.  It was a very traumatic event for me.   I probably still need some therapy.  ;-)

One of Michelle's 'friends' took her comb out of her back pocket.  That was 'the thing' back then in the 70's--carrying a big comb in your back pocket.  It made you very cool!  Her friends then began playing "Keep Away" from Michelle, tossing the comb across the Merry-Go-Round, back and forth.  Then.... the comb came my way......I caught it..........hesitated.

Ummm...I was there to make friends, certainly not enemies.  (Remember that whole "I just want everyone to like me" bit?)  I am not mean by nature, unless provoked, and then I can unleash like a Spider Monkey.  But... I wanted friends.   So....I tossed the comb in Michelle's direction.

Now I ask...is it my fault that she didn't catch the comb before it fell into the muddy little puddle?   Uh, I think not!  Unfortunately, Michelle and I did not see eye to eye on this issue.  I still say it was a pretty good toss!!

She came at me, fists balled up, urging her friends to join her.  I felt certain that I could 'take' Michelle.  I wasn't a 'little' girl, actually quite strong; I wasn't about to let anyone beat me up.  But taking on the whole 5th grade class?  I just knew I couldn't handle that.  They would kill me!!  And then my Mom would kill me--for fighting!  I was more afraid of my mother, I think.  I just kept backing up, keeping a safe enough distance between myself and the gaggle of kids.  It seemed as if hours had passed (though I'm sure it was only minutes), when finally the bell rang.  Recess was over!  Saved by the bell.

Afterward, in addition to taunts of being fat and ugly, now I was a scaredy cat, too.  Okay..yeah, it scared me, all those kids coming at me with those menacing looks on their faces.  It was a cornerstone on which I've built my self doubt. 

There are more instances of me being bullied, until I finally stood up for myself.  That's another story for another time. 

I've taught my children tolerance, respect, and acceptance of others.  They have been on the receiving end of a bullies.  I've given them the tools to handle the nasty little beasts.  I follow my parents tenant--You can't start a fight, but you can finish one."  If words don't work....well......  The only way to stop a bully is to stand up for yourself.    If you let them know you're not going to put of with their crap, usually the bully will leave you alone.  Sadly, he will search out another victim until he finds someone who will take his crap.  Bullish behavior must be dealt with in the home.  The bully's parents must take some responsibility for their child's behavior.  Likely there are deeper issues..

I don't understand how cutting another person down or beating on them can make anyone feel better about themselves, but that's the case with bullies.  They have low self-esteem ?  Guess they want someone to feel worse than they do?  Or maybe they're trying to be 'cool' in the eyes of their peers?  I don't know, but I just don't get it.  I never have.

Maybe I'm a little naive--quaint--but I would so much rather raise some one up than to cut them down.  It takes just as much energy to say a kind word as an unkind one.  And really, in the end, you feel pretty good about yourself, too.  Now there's a win/win!