I’m a lucky gal. I
know quite a few people, who do quite a few nice things for me, because they
are good people, but mainly because business is business and some folks are
still smart enough to realize that what goes around comes around.
One of the many perks I get from my side job managing rental
homes is that whenever someone moves out of our neighborhood, like the most
recent departure of our Sister Wife/Husband, Soul mates, Once in a Lifetime
Besties, the neighbor who you could literally borrow their last roll of toilet
paper (or at least poop at their house if need be) – this will eventually be an
entire blog in itself, departs, is that when the carpet cleaning company comes
by to clean the vacant home, the awesome carpet cleaner dude always stops by my
place and cleans my carpets as well. Fan
freaking tastic!
As many of you know, G was lucky enough to get a new boxer
puppy for his birthday. Well, in all
honesty, G was lucky enough to have his super duper wife bring home a $500
puppy that he had no desire to have, during the 2nd week of June, so
technically for his birthday. Our
agreement had been that once everyone was out of diapers we could discuss
bringing something else that thought it was perfectly appropriate to defecate
on the floor into the house. Big baby
had just dropped her 1st deuce in the toilet instead of one of her $0.45/ea
Huggies, so I figured what better time?
Priscilla is a lovely, very calm, beautiful pup, and for the
most part great with the minions. She
isn’t much of a barker (yet), doesn’t really jump up on people, and sleeps thru
the God Damn night, which apparently in the Mongrain household is enough to
qualify you for life long amnesty. She
even holds it all night long. Daytime,
however, is a totally different story.
Miss Priss pretty much treats the main floor of the house as urine
utopia, feeling free to let it rip (and drip) whenever and wherever her pretty
little heart desires.
So, needless to say we were VERY excited for the carpet
cleaners to come by and rid us of the stench that is starting to become the
signature Mongrain Baby Farm scent.
One of the worst spots in the house is our master bedroom, which after having the luxury of being the upstairs room that hosted the diaper genie for over a year, and being Prissy's toilet of choice, is really, really due for some “fresh air”. Being the stellar mouth breather/sleeper that I am, combined with the steam from the en suite bathroom shower, and having the side of the bed located dangerously close to the master toilet, this Mama was oh so eager to have those carpets restored to their original state of only harboring mold and mites.
Even though I am pretty sure we all realize how this blog
will end, it’s important to realize the frame of mind that a 34 yr old working Mama is in on a daily basis. Nobody is
whining, or looking for sympathy. Trust
me when I tell you that NO ONE wants to hear that “You shouldn’t have had kids
if you weren’t prepared to be a mother to them” because as any Mama knows,
people who say stuff like that are just Bitches. Bitch please, do you think that when I signed
up to have kids (and really, I could argue the fact that my family dynamics are
not really what I “signed up” for, but bygones) that some lovely, experienced
mother type sat me down and had a heart to heart to prepare me on how much my
life was going to change and that my young, still somewhat firm, late twenty
something ass really had a decent grasp on what I was going to get myself
into? Seriously, the hospitals should
take their videos about the “purple cry” and shove them where the sun don’t
shine and send new moms home with a video series about What to Expect When a 20-40lb
Creature Rules Your Universe.
The intermediate series can be Bringing Home a Sibling That Your #1 Child
Could Give 2 Shits About; and the grand finale Child #3, Now That You’ve Gone
& Outnumbered Yourselves.
As a mom who works, and let me stop you, the last thing I
need to hear is a lecture about moms who choose their careers over staying at
home, my frame of mind is probably a little more skewed then most. Hell, as a total nut job, my frame of mind is
likely more skewed then most. I know
that normal kids grew up with normal parents, they were taught how to swim,
that graduating high school is important, and so on and so forth, but I
wasn’t. No time for tears & tissues,
but my point is that I am doing the best I can with a limited amount of role
modeling.
Anywoo, back to the working Mama dribble. I work. Not because I am dying to be on the cover of
the local business section one day, but because I am broke. And I like to shop. One of these probably feeds into the
other. And I have issues. I want my kids to have stuff that I never
did, and I want them to appreciate that I work my ass off for them. I pride myself on reminding them of that on a
daily basis. Joking aside, I also have 3
girls, and I want them to realize, hopefully from my stellar example, that they
have the capabilities of taking care of themselves and not being dependent on a
man/woman/partner or whatever the hell they choose to shack up with one
day.
Because of choices I have made, my career options are
limited. After years in the Casino
industry, I have worked in the construction industry for years. It works for me, I get a long with men better
then women, likely because I can’t filter the shit that comes out of my mouth
most of the time, and also because most women are snatches. Whatever.
The thing about being the only female in an office full of men &
construction workers, and the one primarily running the show, is that the frame
of mind I have to keep in the office is not necessarily the best one to have at
home. Tears will get you nowhere in the
world of framing, rough plumbing and construction to perm loans. Do not drop the ball and let someone make a
mistake on a home that will take weeks to fix when you are paying hundreds of
dollars in daily interest. Do not let
anyone call you sweetheart, unless of course he isn’t too gross, and also
happens to have a corporate expense account.
The point to this babble is that often I have trouble
transitioning from the world that I spend 7am – 5pm and sometimes more in to
the world that is waiting for me between 6pm- often 12am and on weekends and
holidays. The approximate 10 seconds I
get between the car and front door to readjust myself is usually not
adequate. I struggle daily with needing
a break from work and a break from kids, often in the same evening, and
unfortunately or fortunately depending on your perspective, it’s usually the
kids that stay with a sitter so that mommy can have some alone time or time
with Daddy.
If you are neurotic like I am, you can torture yourself over
these things. You can lay awake at
night, promising to be a better mom the next day because you were short
tempered and yelled at #1 to get back in bed after telling her to go to bed 7
times. You can play back work scenes
over and over in your head, realizing what the better, wittier thing to say
would have been. You can feel guilty for
locking yourself in the bathroom and reading 50 Shades of Grey while your 2yr
old banged on the door demanding to be let in and help you wipe.
If you are a “fixer” like I am, you will also find ways to
make yourself feel better about your shortcomings. Yes, I hate play dough, stickers and socks
totally gross me out. I can’t teach my girls to swim, but I can pay
for the lessons. I will never be able to
ride a bike with them, but I will make sure they know how to, and they will
have helmets while doing so. They might
have to sit and endure episodes of Diners, Drive Ins & Drives or Say Yes to
the Dress while Mama has a glass of wine in order to log some quality mommy
time, but it’s time, and lately that is in short supply around the Baby Farm.
Sometimes life is just a real pisser ~
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