WHAT THE...!!???

Work.  I have a job.  Not a career.  Big Difference.  No really, a job is just a way to pick up a pay check every Friday where as a career is something some people actually ENJOY.  My husband has a career, one that he likes, one that he's really good at.  I'm so proud of all that he's accomplished in just a little over 7 years.

But back to the point I was starting to get to... today is one of those days where I'd rather be doing almost anything else besides sitting here in the madness.  The complete chaos of incompetence. 

One of my bosses is so old that he poops on the toilet seat.  (I hope you're not eating as you're reading this :) ).  "Us girls" take turns cleaning the toilet.  SO tell me again how much YOUR job sucks??

For any new followers or those who might not already know what I do for a paycheck:  I'm an "Office Manager" (AKA adult babysitter and nurses aid assistant) for a property management company on the University of Michigan campus.  Each year, I deal with a whole new crop of students, between 400 and 500, living in our properties.  A majority of the students are nice enough, I'm sure 99% of them are book smart, but very, VERY few have the combination of common sense smart, social skills, and manners.

Shall I give you some of the latest examples?

1) Rent is due on the 1st of the month.  Every month, just like its been due on the 1st of the month for the past 6 months.  I don't care if you're on Spring Break.  Make arrangements, pay your shit on time.

"So, I received a LATE RENT notice, because I haven't paid my rent.  Does this mean that you didn't get my rent check?".... uummm, YES.

2) Mom of daughter:  "My daughter called me at 12:30 AM FROM HER CAR because the parking lot is icy.  She text messaged me some pictures.  Even in the middle of the night on my cell phone I can see that there is ice".... WHAT THE...!!???  What grad student calls her mom in the middle of the night to tell her that the parking lot is icy?  Then she has her mom call the office first thing in the morning.  This girl, by the way, is in LAW SCHOOL.  Which she reminds me of every.time.she.calls.  "Hi, My name is R.S. and I'm in law school....blah blah I think I'm more important than everyone else in the whooooolllleeee wide world."  Well, she's probably saying something else, but I never really listen to her.

Now, don't read in to this too much.  I've hired a handful of U of M girls to work part time in my office, all of which are sweet, smart, and have gone on to bigger and better things after graduation.  I've had a couple of really awesome babysitters, one which I trusted so much that she would stay at our house for an entire weekend when Titan was a baby.  I've also met a few students who have their own Amway businesses, who really have their lives together. 

But the next time one of these little freaks calls me because something in their trash can smells funny, I might just quit.

Probably not though.  I really need more blog material.

AKA: T$

My kid is so cool.

(Side note before I get started:  I REALLY don't like using the word "kid", because yes, Mrs. Haensch, I know it is a baby goat.  A lot of people might not know that.  So, cut me some slack.  This is creative writing over here).

Titan, AKA, T$.  Yep, sometimes people call Titan : T money.  (Thanks, Uncle Mike!).  When he's not throwing ferocious tantrums or giving me attitude that makes me want to rip my hair out, he's actually pretty cool.  I'm talking cool like...I let him wear his sun glasses to school in the morning.  Cool like... the other day two little girls chased him out of the classroom for hugs, he wouldn't give hugs, and one little girl cried!  Not that making little girls cry is cool... but seriously, what a freakin' heart breaker!

The way his mind works, those creative juices, kinda blow my mind sometimes.  This weekend I did my best attempt to teach him how to rap.  It was the best part of my weekend, dancing around the living room listening to some 90's hip hop classics.  Ronan on my hip... Titan doing his thang (which involves somersaults, weird bopping around motions, ninja kicks.. ya know, what it looks like when most white people try to dance). 

So I taught him this:

I wish I was little bit taller,
I wish I was a baller
I wish I had a girl who looked good
I would call her
I wish I had a rabbit in a hat with a bat
and a '64 Impala

 

I'd upload the video, but 1) I don't know how! 2) Meehhh, not sure I want my baby blowing up all over the internet? But, hey, maybe it'd get me a guest spot on Ellen?

 

FML? Really?

In a world where tragedies exist every day, where babies are born sick, where loved ones are taken too early... why is everyone so down on their own lives?  Why isn't everyone just appreciative of the blessings they have in front of them?

I despise the phrase, "FML".  For those of you who might not know what that stands for (because I seriously didn't and had to look it up!), it means "f*!* my life".  What a harsh, little 3 letter phrase!  Someone told me today that the phrase is supposed to be "funny".  Well, I don't get it.

You don't have to scroll down too far on your Facebook news feed to find someone being completely over dramatic about an irrelevant situation:

"FML!!!  I'm having a bad hair day!"
"FML!!!  It took me an extra minute to find matching socks today!"
"FML!!! Someone didn't use a turn signal!"

Yes, I am mocking you!  Yes, you!  General public!

When I start to feel sorry for myself for whatever reason, I try and remember all the positive things going on in my life.  LIFE COULD BE SO MUCH WORSE!

People have REAL issues.  The fact that my *almost* 4 year old throws tantrums?  Not a real issue... although it is nice to vent about it :)  The fact that we've been looking for a house and haven't found one yet?  Not a real issue.  I have a friend that is sick, a friend who's baby is sick, a friend who's husband is sick, and friends who are just trying to keep their heads above water.  Who am I to complain about ANYTHING?!  

You'll never be granted greatness in life without appreciating the little things first.  The more blessings you count, the more blessings you'll realize you have.

So, general public, put on your big girl panties and just deal with it.  And stop saying "FML".

End rant.

House Hunting: Phase One

Where are the Property Brothers, the Kitchen Cousins, the House Hunters?  Not here.  And I know this because I check the HGTV website ALL. THE. TIME.

Mark and I started house hunting in September 2012.  We rushed around to send in all the paperwork needed in order to be approved for a loan.  We searched the internet, scheduled showings, got approved, found houses we liked... found houses we didn't like.  Found more houses we didn't like.  And more houses.

I kinda of think that HGTV has ruined my sense of reality when it comes to finding a home.  Where's my inexpensive "steal" of a house with a spa tub in the master bath and the butler's pantry in the kitchen?  I suppose that I could probably find the "perfect" house, but like I said, I want it to be a "steal".  We've looked at some "steals"... so ask me how that went....?

Steal #1: Huge reddish, brown stain in the middle of the living room.  Seriously, what happened here?  It looked like an animal had been sacrificed!
Steal #2: Basement.was.horrifying.  "Nuff said.
Steal #3: Listing square footage was not accurate.  House was also about 2 feet from the road.  Thank you for wasting my time.

There were others that I can't even remember.

We put an offer in on a house and someone outbid us.  Seriously, who offers above asking price?  Hopefully, it was this person's dream house!

We also looked at a few model homes.  Titan was definitely the most excited about those, especially the one that had food stocked in the pantry.

"Mom!  Look!  This one comes with macaroni and cheese!".

I keep checking on HGTV in hopes that Drew and Jonathon are coming to Michigan.  They make it look so easy!  Hey, lets just knock down some walls, give you an open concept, install a little hardwood here, a little tile there, and VIOLA! Perfect house!

So, in the meantime I'll be just sittin' here, waiting for more houses to come on the market!

POOP! Even birds do it.

Being a mom to a wild toddler boy isn't really what I had ever pictured.  I'm not quite sure what I had in mind when it came to kiddos, but it certainly wasn't, "Hey mom, this is a big poop, right?".

If you or someone you know has a toddler boy, I imagine that you've experienced or heard a few of these exciting revelations from the bathroom:

1) "Hey mom, my poop stinks today".  Great, turn the fan on.
2) "Mommy, if I eat too much cheese my poop will hurt, right?"... Yes, absolutely.
3) "Oops!  I think I forgot to wipe my butt".  Disgusting.
4) "If I get poop in my underwear, will you be mad at me?".  No, only disgusted.

Completely random story to follow:

"Mommy!  Today, at school, two birds pooped on the school.  And birds aren't allowed to poop on the school because the teachers will get mad.  And its not good when teachers are mad.  Those were some bad birds, right mom?"

(I later asked Titan's teacher, WHAT THE HECK IS HE TALKING ABOUT?  She had NO clue.)

Poop.  Everyone does it but only boys (young and old) talk about it.

But MOOOOMMMMM!

It's always something, ya know?  With kids, that is.

Having an almost-four-year-old boy is what I imagine having a thirteen year old girl to be like.  A.T.T.I.T.U.D.E.

I've heard of the terrible twos, but oh wait, it's actually the "psychotic" threes... but better yet, the friggin' fours (and I am OBVIOUSLY substituting the would friggin' for... well, you can imagine!).

My sweet little miracle baby gives me a headache.  That two pound twelve ounces sweet, sweet, miracle baby is smart.  And completely irrational!

One day, he wants to brush his teeth with the lights off.  Fine.  Brush your teeth with the lights off, go for it.  I can't see a thing.  The next day, I turn the lights off in anticipation that he's going to ask anyway.  But that day, oh no, don't you dare turn the lights off!  I WANT THEM ON!  Oh, ok, no problem then.  We'll turn on.  Weeelllll, actually mom, let's leave them off.  Ok, off it is!  (example of psychotic three)

By the time I drop Ronan off at daycare and Titan at school, I really need a minute to gather myself.  It's like a war most mornings, ya know, navigating the temper tantrums, the crying baby, the whining dog.  So I sit in the parking lot and think positive thoughts.  (Like a one-way ticket to a tropical island... warm, positive thoughts!)  And then I think of all the funny shiz-nit that Titan does, and the world seems MILDLY better.

A few nights ago Titan and I were picking out his clothes for school the next day, and the conversation went a little something like this:

Me: "Titan!  Where are all your socks?  There are only three pair in here and I just did all the laundry.  Where are the rest of them?"

Titan: "Oh, they are right here!" (He takes the pillow off of his bed and shows me inside the pillow case.  Sure enough, all his socks, un-matched now, of course).

Me: "Why are your socks in your pillow case?"

Titan:  "So this way I always know where they are and I can sleep on them."

(Confused look on my face)

Titan: "I don't know mom, its just what I do.  (shoulder shrug) Its just what I do".

 
Sometimes you just have to accept the crazy and remember that "its already perfect".

Squeaky Wheel Gets the Grease!

Yesterday was my very first Parent/ Teacher conference.  Sure, it was only preschool, but talk about feeling old!

Earlier this year, I felt really uncomfortable with some things I noticed going on at Titan's school.  The main doors to the building NEVER locked and a few times I entered the building to pick him up and NO ONE WAS AT THE FRONT DESK.  NO ONE EVEN KNEW I ENTERED THE BUILDING.  Ask me how well that went over :)

So after an email exchange with Titan's teacher and also with the director of the school, they vowed to have someone at the front desk at all times.  (uummm, shouldn't that policy have already been in place??!!)

Later on, maybe it was a few days, maybe it was a few weeks, I don't even remember at this point, all the kids were playing in the "playground" during pick up time.  (And by playground, I mean a black top with woods chips.  Children are similar to hamsters, I guess?) I was greeted in the main lobby, walked through the school, and went to the playground.  BUT NO ONE EVEN ACKNOWLEDGED that I was picking Titan up and taking him home.  Not safe.  Not cool.  ANGRY mom, once again.

Emails, emails, emails.  Sometimes its so hard to be polite when all you want to do is scream.  Your child is your world, don't they know that?  Safety first!  "Why don't the front doors lock?"  "Someone must have been in the bathroom yesterday because NO ONE was at the front desk."

Results?  Well, in late September I was told that a security system would be installed.  October came and went.  As did November and as did December.  And we all know what happened in mid-December.  Connecticut.  The shootings.  Horrible.

Emails, emails, emails.  I told the director the actions of the school were no longer acceptable.  They dragged their feet far too long.  Either lock the doors and man the front desk or Titan will NOT be returning.  We will not pay his tuition.  (Which, by the way, is a FORTUNE considering his school is next to a LIQUOR store.  Yes, seriously).

Results?  The director waived our tuition for the time I pulled Titan out of school.  The security system was installed and working in time for the children to return after New Years.  Each family has a code they type in that unlocks the main entrance door and it automatically locks as soon as its shut.  Front desk is always manned.

Squeaky wheel gets the grease.

So, the moral of the story is this:

In our lives, every day, we settle.  We settle for things we know aren't right.  We settle on things because we don't think we can make a difference.  We settle because we're too tired, we're too lazy, we're too this, we're too that.  Whatever the reason is, it doesn't matter.

How far would you go to protect your child?

Squeaky wheel gets the grease.