Friend Time this Weekend

I will be spending my weekend with the girl I have known the longest... I blogged about her last year here http://bucketofice.blogspot.com/2011/05/my-best-girl.html and here http://bucketofice.blogspot.com/2011/06/on-jet-plane.html.

We have a weekend of a whole lot of nothing planned, just the way we like it. I thought maybe we could play Barbies or talk about boys or cut pictures of Rick Springfield out of Tiger Beat. Maybe we'll just shop, hang out and drink our Cokes out of glass bottles. All I know is that I'm excited about the next four days. It seems like we'll have so much time together. Then, all too soon, I'll be driving her back to the airport. I feel sad already.

It occurs to me that she and I have been friends since we were 11, exactly the same age Sugar is now. I look at Sugar and I can't fathom that Shannon and I were once that age. In many ways, Sugar reminds me of Shannon-how she was then and still is today. They don't look anything alike, but their personalities are so similar. They are both very sweet, kind and easy to be around. And they both tell me all the time how fucking hilarious I am (oh stop, of course Sugar doesn't say the F word). I don't know what I did right to be surrounded by all these nice people! Opposites attract, I guess.

I'm excited for the weekend ahead. Tonight we are going to a new local restaurant. I told Shannon to look at it online to see if it would be someplace she'd like to go and she's got her dinner choices narrowed down to two. How anyone can decide what they want for dinner a day in advance is beyond me. Then we are off to see "Rock of Ages," the MOVIE, not the Broadway production.

Fun times ahead. I only wish that Caller ID didn't exist so we could prank call people like we did in the good old days!

xoxo
Ice Princess

Believe

My friend with cancer wanted to get a tattoo before her surgery so that when she woke up and looked at it she would feel strong and courageous. She knows she’s strong, at least she tells me she is all the time. She also knows that there might come a time when she needs to be reminded that she is indeed strong.

She knew she wanted a tattoo with the word “Strength” on her wrist and ended up going with “without struggle there is no strength.” I think it came out bigger than she thought it would, but she seems to love it anyway.

I have long wanted the word “Believe” tattooed on my wrist. I imagined it in Tiffany blue, but was told by the tattooist that color not outlined in black tends to disperse under the skin after a few years. We discussed outlining in black and the rest blue, but the tattoo I wanted was too small for that. So I went with plain old black and I love it.

The tattoo shop that we went to was FULL of interesting people. The girl behind the desk had long black hair with green bangs. She had EVIL WINS tattooed in gigantic block letters on the back of her legs. She had obviously used the biggest gauges available for her ear plugs and removed them because she stretched out earlobes hung to nearly her shoulders. They wiggle, wiggle, wiggled every time she moved. I was both horrified and fascinated by this crazy looking chick. I’ve never seen ears stretched quite that far and I wondered if they ever got in the way. There was another guy with the plugs IN HIS NOSE. Random freaky people all around. I could have sat there and watched those people all damn day.

After my friend and I left, I asked her if she felt like white bread in there too. Then I said, “I’m surprised they didn’t make you move your minivan from the front of the shop. I’m sure it didn’t do much for their image.”

EN keeps asking why I wanted the word “Believe” on my wrist and it’s been so hard to put into words. It would be easy to say that I believe that good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. But if that were the case…

My friend wouldn’t have cancer and about to undergo surgery for a double mastectomy.

EN wouldn’t have crashed his motorcycle on his way to his weekend of debauchery.

The bus monitor from NY wouldn’t have been bullied by a bunch of middle school turds.

There wouldn’t be a gazillion kids starving in Africa.

So it’s not true. Sometimes bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people. You just have to have hope that we all end up with what we deserve in the end.

It took a while to put into words what “believe” means to me. I think if you believe something, it will be. Sort of like that old movie, “Field of Dreams”… “build it and they will come.” Believe it and it will happen. Believe in your success and you will achieve great things. Believe that you will fail and you probably will. That’s something I hope to instill in my girls… believe in yourself and do your best. Believe you are amazing…

That’s enough deep shit for now. Lets go back to talking about the freaks at the tattoo parlor. How about the guy that I trusted to put my tattoo on my arm… he was so stoned, offering me a wide variety of munchies to snack on. He laughed at every single thing I said and told me repeatedly how “fucking hilarious” I was. It’s a good thing I’m no precious flower that might be offended by such language.

Then again, if I was a precious flower, it’s not likely that I would have been in a tattoo parlor on a Sunday afternoon… even though my mode of transportation to the shop was riding shotgun in a minivan.

xoxo

Ice Princess 

The Miracle that is Duct Tape

On Father’s Day EN and Sugar were discussing the upcoming event at her school that I had signed up EN to take part in (you’re welcome). The class was split into groups to build small, earthquake sustainable houses. They had a budget and had to “buy” their building supplies. The groups had to give a presentation about their house and the house had to be tested. The teacher wanted parents to judge the groups on their presentation, creativity and whether or not the houses survived the earthquake.

EN and Sugar discussed the building supplies: uncooked spaghetti, marshmallows and duct tape. EN said, “You can fix anything with duct tape.” Sugar responded, “I know. That’s why my group’s house is made of mostly duct tape.” In EN’s eleven years being Daddy, I don’t think he’s ever had a prouder moment.

Duct tape has always been a very popular item at our house. It’s recently become popular for the kids to make items out of tape: jewelry, purses, wallets, crowns… It helps that they now manufacture duct tape into a wide variety of colors and patterns. It used to be that Home Depot was the only store we could go into without being harassed into buying something. That’s all over.

We have piles of duct tape jewelry all over the house. The hoard of stuffed animals is also decorated with duct tape. I’m actually pretty impressed with their creativity…

Sugar covered her accordion binder with duct tape and it came out looking like this:

You'll notice she even covered the button with tape. 

Spice has made loads of purses and wallets…

The little pink thing at the top of the bag is actually
a bow. Also note that the handles are made with
the two prints as well. 

In fact, she came down last week with one and did her “fashionista walk” to show it off. She twirled and sashayed and said, “Is this a Coach bag?” What?? Not really… my six-year-old is already talking about brands? What does this say about my mothering? What kind of kids am I raising here? I explained to her that “Coach” is a brand of purse like Sketchers are a brand of shoes and brand is NOT important.

When she’s older I’ll explain that Mama is a low-class Coach buyer… from an outlet and always, always with a coupon. 

And EN’s time with Sugar’s class? It went pretty well but EN really is too nice of a guy to judge anything. He gave all the teams 5 points in every category. Thank God there were other judges to balance his scores out. Do I even need to point out that I was NOT asked to be part of the judging committee? 

xoxo

Ice Princess 

Teabags and Vagazzles

Skinny Bitch texted me yesterday that she was going to see “Rock of Ages.” Because I am supremely cool and hip, I had no idea that she was going to see a movie, I assumed she was going to see the musical. It’s obvious that I have my finger on the pulse of pop culture. I come from a long line of cool people that claim to know what is going on in the world today. I offer this recent situation with my mother as proof.

My mom abhorred computers, email, etc. She said she would DIE before she went online, people that do that are stupid, need to get a life, etc. Then my dad accepted a position in Qatar for six months. He bought her a little laptop and set her up with an email account. She’s now a freak about checking her email multiple times per day and has gotten back in touch with some old friends. Her view on email is similar to her views about Family Dinner: the only excuse for not responding to her is being dead. Fortunately, we don’t have to respond to the dozens of jokes and funny pictures but if she sends an actual email, we better fucking answer before she even hits send.

Last week she sent out a funny email that was very political in nature. Her friend’s daughter was going through her email (I’ll keep my thoughts about snooping through someone’s email to myself) and was highly offended by the silly picture my mother sent. So this girl hit “Reply All” and lambasted my mother’s email. She didn’t sign that email and sent it to about 20 people. It was obvious that the email didn’t come from my mother’s friend because she is German and English is her second language. The email also started off with “Really?” which is a common phrase with the 40-year-old set and not the 70 year olds.

I’m annoyed on so many levels, but what bothered me the most is that she sent it to everyone. She does not know everyone that she emailed and she was rude to my mother. Inexcusable. So I did what any good daughter would do. I hit “Reply All” and said something like “Please, please, please do not Reply All when responding to an email based on humor.”  

All the German biddies were in an uproar and kvetched with my mother via email. So my mother sent the friend’s daughter a private email, to which the daughter responded with another rant and a quote from John Lennon. Not for nothing, but if I’m going to show my prowess with regard to political happenings in this world, I’m not going to quote a rock star.

My mother forwarded me the rant and I responded immediately and said, “She needs to STFU.” And my mother said, “What does that mean?” I told my mother that she could look it up herself on Urban Dictionary and she asked where she could buy one of those. Yup, the old girl was headed out to Barnes and Noble to look through an urban dictionary. My email response was short and sweet, “urbandictionary.com.”

Our online exchange got very quiet and I should have realized she was up to no good. Our next email exchanges went like this:

Mom: I looked at urbandictionary.com and now know what STFU means.

Me: Good.

Mom: I’m not a prude or anything, but some of the stuff on that site is really perverted and disgusting.

Me: It’s not my fault that you are a nosey old German. You should have just stuck with STFU and left the site.

I wrapped up my day at work and came home to the nightly “dinner and a show” with Sugar and Spice. My mother called before her usual time, so I knew I was in for something good. She danced around on the call for a bit, talking about the girls, my day at work, my dad, etc. Then she started up again about the perverts who put shit up on urbandictionary.com. And the million dollar question: “Do you know what teabagging is?”

Seriously, y’all…

I again lectured her for looking around, and told her if she’s being nosey she can’t bitch about what she finds. I told her that she and my friend Fly Girl really do have lots in common as she was the last person I told to go look something up on the ol’ Urban Dictionary. My mother, ever nosey, “Hmm, what was that all about?” I told her that Fly Girl didn’t know what “vagazzle” meant. The German actress on the phone gasped with surprise and said, “She didn’t?” like she was totally in the know.

If my hearing was better, I’m sure I could have heard pen on paper so that she could look up vagazzle as soon as we hung up.

If I really wanted to punish myself, I could have asked if she started that damn 50 Shades of Grey yet. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

BlogHer Made Me Feel Famous

In the middle of the Worst Week Ever, I checked my email on Tuesday and found that one of my posts was going to be featured on BlogHer. I think I peed a little. I’m honestly stunned as I thought I had to submit posts to them to be featured… and God knows I never think anything is good enough to submit. BlogHer also gave me this really cool little prize badge to add to my page, but I’m incompetent to make that magic happen. Stay tuned.

This could not have happened at a better time. I had separate conversations last week with both Fly Girl and Skinny Bitch about quitting the blog. I had been at it a long time and wasn’t seeing a lot of increased readership and almost NO ONE ever comments. Yes, it’s true, I blog for myself to keep a record of what’s going on, but I also blog for entertainment purposes. I like to feel like I’ve made someone laugh or think or smile… and for a long time I haven’t really done that. I felt like I was running out of ideas. I felt like there was so much drama going on in my life that I couldn’t think of anything interesting or funny. I mean really, how many times can I bitch about how much my family pisses me off or how much I’m bothered by things going on at Sugar’s school? Sooner or later, someone will say, “I wish that bitch would STFU.”

I also wanted to try to connect with people. I wanted to talk about things and have someone else say, “Sing it, sista!!! That shizz happens at our house on a regular basis!” I need to feel normal in this buffoon-filled world.

I read many, many other blogs and I’m finally bringing myself to comment here and there. I try to be nice, funny, and never attack the writer or the blog. Seriously people, it’s a free world. If I think a blog sucks or I disagree with their post, why leave a rude comment? I see it done all the time and it annoys me and makes me angry. So I beg for comments, yet want people to be nice all the time. Yeah, that’s how the world works, TOTALLY!!

Before this BlogHer feature, the greatest thing to happen to me in the blogging world was having Jen at People I Want To Punch In The Throat reply to a comment that I left on her post about 50 Shades of Gray. I felt like someone famous had patted me on the head. I felt almost as good as I did the time I paid $200 to meet Bret Michaels and he wrapped his arms around me and we… posed for a picture. I still regret not having him sign my boob. I totally would have had that tattooed.

Thank you BlogHer for bringing my teensy little blog front and center of your Family section. It thrilled me to see my words somewhere else, and it pleased Sugar to hear that her note was called “spectacularly awesome.” My normal monthly blog views hover around 450… this month I might hit 2,000. To those big deal blogs, this is nothing… that’s their daily or even hourly number. But to me, I feel all fluttery over it. I’ve also gained a few more followers… Hi people… tell me who you are… and if you are shy, introduce yourself via email… iceprincessjones@gmail.com.

And to my old faithfuls, thanks for sticking with me. Thanks for giving a shit about what I have to say. Thanks for your input (almost always via text or email) and your love.

I’m done with my speech now. A post featured on BlogHer may be not be a big deal to some, but this bitch feels like she hit some bestseller list. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Support System

This morning I rediscovered an old method I used to use when I was upset about something. I have a 40 minute commute to/from work every day and that’s my thinking time, my quiet time. If there’s something going on in my world that is upsetting me, it’s also my time to stew. I am sick of worrying, even sick of plotting my revenge. So I did what I used to do, I cranked the music. I listened to my favorite station, but found every song to be annoying today. In goes Kid Rock and the volume went up higher. On a bad day I really appreciate a motha fucka that swears like that. I’m sure that everyone I passed wondered what an old lady like me was doing listening to Kid Rock at that volume. Thank God they really didn’t get the full view of the white girl chair dancing.

Since learning about the incidents at Sugar’s school, I have not been right in the head. I am so sad for my little girl, but sadder still because it’s reminding me of rough times I had around the same age. Oddly, I am more bothered now than I was then. Maybe it’s because I tried to make sure Sugar had all the items she’d need to be considered cool. If not cool, at least accepted. But this is not about me, it’s about my girl and fixing what has been bothering her.

On Sunday night, I had a long telephone conversation with Sugar’s teacher. I described what has been happening and she said, “This is a classic case of bullying.” I did NOT throw down the B word first. I considered that in my head, but I didn’t want to say it out loud. I wanted an educator within the school system to label it as such based on what we know of the situation. Even though I heard various accounts of the incidents from several people, I do not want to be the finger-pointing mom using the buzzword of the decade.

Monday morning, Sugar was to go straight to her classroom and not be in the vicinity where the others could find her. Sugar spoke with the guidance counselor, and I got an email from the counselor saying that she had spoken to Sugar and that the other girls would be spoken to either by her or the Dean of Students.

In two separate emails, I asked if the other girls’ parents would be contacted about this situation. I was never given an answer. I mentioned this to Fly Girl and she immediately looked up the policy online and forwarded everything to me. I looked at everything quickly on Sunday, but found exactly what I was looking for after actually printing everything out and stapling the pages together. I needed something to feel “orderly,” so I could make progress.

As I am still without a response today, I sent off another email. This time I let them know that I was now fully aware of the policy on bullying and that I knew they had 48 hours to contact everyone involved, including the parents. I’ve yet to receive a response from them and I can only hope that they’re too busy working their asses off to get to the bottom of this.

I cannot focus on much of anything. There’s a buzzing rage in my head. I’m flabbergasted that school districts brag about having these policies in place, then don’t bother to follow them. What the fuck is the point?

I wrote all of that this morning. I will post it anyway because it’s interesting (to me at least!) to see how angry I was. What a difference a phone call makes. I heard back from the Dean of Students and was told that I have a choice to make as to how we would like these allegations handled. We could have it handled “informally,” meaning that the girls will be called into the office and spoken to. They will be told that their behavior is not acceptable and needs to stop immediately. Their parents will be notified of their children’s actions. Information about these incidents will be placed in their academic records. In the event that any of these girls are accused of similar behavior again, formal investigations will begin immediately.

EN and I shied away from the formal investigation process at this time because we feel (hope, actually) that these 5^th grade girls will be scared shitless just being called down to the school office. They will be spoken to by the Dean with the counselor in the room. They will find out then what the consequences will be if they ever breathe another unkind word to anyone: formal investigation, potential suspension, expulsion, police involvement. I’m way past the 5^th grade and those consequences make me want to pee a little bit.

At this time, I can’t help but be grateful to the friends in my life. I thank each of your for listening to me rant… Skinny Bitch, Boo, Ultra, Fly Girl, Stepmommy, Soldier Girl, Michelle… your emails, texts, phone calls really helped me through it all. I especially thank all of you for offering advice always laced with humor. We are the grown up version of the gang of chicks that gathered around Sugar to try to keep her safe. When it’s your turn to be “girl down,” you bet your ass I’m there for you.

xoxo

Ice Princess 

This is Not OK

They say she’s stupid and should live in a cookie jar because she’s so little and always looks so confused. They laugh about her clothes, her hair, her glasses and her big eyes.

They put their hands in her face as if to push her away and say, “Did you hear that squeak? Is it a little mouse? No, it’s the girl we used to call Sugar.”  

I was approached today by other parents who asked me if I knew what was going on with my girl during her school day. I was honestly surprised, because Sugar hasn’t mentioned any of this to me. Perhaps this explains the overall mood and storm clouds that surround Sugar these days.

I was told by these other mothers that this has been going on for months, maybe even the entire school year. Her kids finally told her about it this week when Sugar started crying twice a day at school. One woman’s kids have taken Sugar under their wings and will meet Sugar at her bus in an attempt to shield her from the mean girls. The protective coating worked for a while, but works no longer. Sugar and her protectors travel together through the playground hoping to avoid confrontation but the mean girls find them and start their commentary each and every day. Sugar is their only target. Every day Sugar and her friends say, “Please stop,” but they don’t stop. They are amused when Sugar cries yet again.

I have tried to do everything right as a mother. I buy Sugar the right clothes, the brand that “everyone” is wearing. I make sure she is neat and clean before leaving for school. She has a cute haircut and stylish glasses. However, I can’t force her to grow taller or gain weight. She was born little and remains tiny. Someday she’ll appreciate being petite, just not right now when it’s something to laugh about.

But Sugar is still at school and this is only the word of other parents. I don’t know any of this yet to be true. I had a few hours to collect myself and make a plan for discussing this with Sugar. I was mystified as to why she never told me. I was devastated that my beautiful, sweet, wonderful girl was going through hell under my watch. I should have known what was going on. I should have been aware. Sugar should have talked to me about this.

I had hours to stew and stew I did. I wanted to take those little bitches and beat the hell out of them. I wanted to make them cry as they seemed to delight in making my Sugar cry. These girls aren’t any better than my girl. In fact, my girl is BETTER than them because she would never, ever talk to others as these girls have talked to her.

Right before the school bus dropped my girls off, one of the mothers I had spoken to earlier called to see if I was ok. She knew I wasn’t ok. She got it and she got the devastation, the sadness that overwhelmed me. We talked about the difference between kids fighting about what to play during recess and the words spoken to my child for no other reason than to be mean. She said she would do anything in her power to help Sugar.

Before all this happened a friend had offered to take the girls to a fundraiser to get them out of my hair for a bit. I agreed to let her take them. Once I learned of this situation, I asked her if she would just take Spice so I could talk with Sugar about some things going on at school.

We left Spice and Sugar and I headed off for a dinner out. I purposely took her to a quiet place where we could talk without being interrupted. I asked Sugar how school was going and got the usual Pollyanna type response. Everything is good, everything is wonderful, she said.

So I told her that other parents had approached me and told me that there was something going on that was upsetting her. Her happy “I love everyone” face held for about 30 seconds, then girl done fell apart. She cried chest-heaving, nose-running, heart-breaking tears.

Everything I had heard was true… and my heart shattered into a million pieces. And I wanted to kill those little fucking bitches that hurt my girl. In fact, the bits I got from the other parents were only a fraction of what has been going on. There was nothing about my sweet girl that had not been viciously attacked. I listened and I cried on the inside. I told Sugar she had done the right thing by trying to handle things herself, but when that didn’t work, she should have come to me or another adult to help her fix this mess. No one should go it alone.

We decided together that I should contact her teacher and we decided that an email should be sent out to the Dean of Students and the head Guidance Counselor at her school. I asked multiple times, “Are these girls really looking for you on the playground? Are they really saying these mean things to you?” And she filled me in with detail after detail, and I wanted to cry as she opened up to me.

Little girls repeatedly seeking out other little girls with the intention of being mean is nothing more than bullying. Bullying is the hot topic lately and I am living that dream. I will not continue to live that dream. In fact, I will crush it.

Two little girls are going down next week. Sugar seems to think that the behavior of #3 is ok because she says things to be funny and she apologizes afterwards. As an adult, I know that someday the band aid of humor and apologies won’t cover the wound left by mean words.

I will not stop until I feel that this situation has been resolved and those mean little girls learn that their hideous actions are not ok. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

The Big C

“I had a biopsy today,” said my friend. “But it’s no big deal.”

“My doctor called me today to say they found cancer but it’s early,” she said, two days later.

“Does this mean I have breast cancer? I don’t like the way that sounds,” she said. “We need to come up with a new word because I don’t want to look at my boob and think CANCER!”

“Yes,” I said, “you have breast cancer but if you use the situation to your advantage, you could probably get a nice new set out of the deal.”

“Oh, it’s just one. They’d probably only fix one, then I would be lopsided,” she said.

“You need to work on your negotiating skills,” I said. “You could get two and they’d be real perky and you’d never have to wear a bra!”

She paused to daydream for a moment and I know she was picturing herself with a fabulous new rack. “I’m not going to die, am I?”

“No,” I said. “You are too young to die. Besides only the good die young.”

“That’s right. I have a lot of years left then,” she said.

“I’m a good chemo buddy. If you have to do that, I’ll come sit with you. I’d even hold your hair back if you got sick.”

“I won’t have to have chemo, will I?”

“Maybe not, maybe surgery and radiation. I guess it depends what your doctor says tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to lose a boob and my hair. Those are my best features.”

“No, you have really nice legs too.”

“I really do, don’t I?” she said.

This morning she said she probably misunderstood what the doctor had said on the phone and I said, “Because he really said???” and she said they had a bad connection.

Today my friend found out she will need to have surgery and radiation. She’s not sure whether it will be a lumpectomy or mastectomy type of surgery until she has an MRI next week. And she said, “It’s early. I’m fine. I got this.”

And I said, “Of course you do. And when you don’t ‘got this,’ that’s OK too.”

Cancer sure did fuck with the wrong broad this time. She’s going to kick his ass and laugh while she’s doing it. In fact, Cancer might be so scared, he’ll disappear from the earth altogether.

Sending prayers to my girl. Anyone who fights a battle wearing stilettos and lipstick is sure to win.

xoxo

Ice Princess 

Respecting Privacy

My best girl texted me recently to tell me that her husband is an asshole. She told me why he was an asshole, knowing full well that when texting the Ice Princess such information, the response could go either way. I might have sided with my girl and agreed that he was a full-blown asshole, or I could have said something like, “Maybe he’s having a rough time at work.” My response depends on the situation at hand. I generally side with the girlfriends, but occasionally need to make excuses for a man behaving badly. I do this when my male friends complain about their wives too. I’m an equal opportunity listener like that.

In this case, I agreed that said husband was an asshole. What happened shortly thereafter confirmed that fact to me. Five minutes after I texted my affirmative response, I get another text from my friend. Only this time, my friend didn’t write it. Her husband picked up her phone, read our exchange and texted me to tell me that his wife is a big whiner.

Where do I fucking start?

Oh, I know… respecting privacy. I’m a freak about this. I’ll freely admit it. I had a sister who stole stuff from me and went through my room on a regular basis. Make-up, books, jewelry, cassettes, ANYTHING would go missing at any given time. In fact, one time a friend of hers came over wearing my ‘cute butt’ jeans. I made her drop trou right then and there and took my shit back. I’m still bitter about a super cute pink jean jacket with bows (circa 1989, folks!) that went missing. Of course, no one ever owned up to taking it and it was probably my fault anyway because I didn’t lock my door.

What’s that, you ask? Yes, the way my parents solved the issue of my sister’s sneaky, thieving behavior… they installed a lock on my bedroom door. When she figured out how to pick the lock, they threw up their hands and said, “We don’t know what else to do!” Three words people: electric shock collar.

It doesn’t take years of psychotherapy to confirm that is why I am a stickler for privacy in my house. The girls should be able to keep items they treasure safely in their rooms (food and live animals excluded). They should not have to worry that their sister will come in and take their things for any reason. What is in their bedrooms should not be touched by anyone but themselves. As a parent, I reserve the right to enter their bedrooms and take inventory of the current state of their being.

I have argued with girlfriends and I have argued with EN about this: everyone deserves some level of privacy and I will NOT snoop through my children’s’ things UNLESS I HAVE REASON TO BELIEVE THEY ARE IN TROUBLE OR CAUSING TROUBLE. I am of the opinion that I am around my girls enough to have a pretty good idea of what’s going on with them. I don’t need to read their love letters or their journals. The moment I have an inking something isn’t right, I will be all over them like white on rice. Until then, privacy is to be respected.

Sugar is of the age that she’s asked for an email account and has a free texting application on her iPod. The first test of my stance on privacy. I have talked to Sugar about the need to be safe online, and I told her that I will regularly go through her email inbox and outbox, and I will look through her texts. I don’t read what she or her friends say, but I do make sure she’s not emailing/texting people she doesn’t know. At this stage, Sugar is still young enough that she will read me various emails and texts. In general, 11 year olds are not cool. Or funny. However, they think they are and I laugh along with their wacky jokes, just to keep the lines of communication open.

I have other friends that will look through their spouse’s purse, wallet, cell phone and email accounts. A friend once told me a conversation she had with her boss. Her boss had recently lost his wife and he was saying how he wished he would have told her he loved her so much he even carried their wedding vows in his wallet. My friend said, “Oh, if that’s in your wallet, you can bet she knew about it.” I was absolutely floored. Until that moment, it had never occurred to me to search through EN’s wallet. I ask permission before I even take a dollar from his wallet. And if I go into the wallet, I grab what I said I was going to get and move on. I know the passwords to his Facebook, email accounts, cell phone and have access to his bank account. I would never infringe on his space and snoop.

It’s my thought that if you go where you don’t belong, you aren’t going to like what you find. There will be something somewhere that will cause pain or sadness, and I’d rather live in a state of oblivion. Do I think EN is up to no good when I’m not around? Of course not. Do I think he tells me every blessed thing that he talks about all day long? Of course not. Do I think he’s taken the Ice Princesses name in vain a time or two? You bet your ass. Do I want to know exactly what he said? Hell no. He was obviously wrong anyway.     

That’s how we roll in my house. I also expect my kids and husband to treat my things with the same respect. Ask before you go into my purse. Yes, you can have my passwords, I have nothing to hide. Except maybe that time I called EN Assface for taking two weeks to hang up a bathroom mirror. Or the time I blogged Sugar’s runaway note.

Oops. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

She's a Runaway!!

Last week I wrote about the intense attitude and fighting that’s been going on at my house. After a peaceful Thursday, Friday night ended with a bang.

Since the girls had been good on Thursday, I took them out to dinner Friday. We just went to the cheap Mexican place in town. They were good there, so I let them have ice cream for dessert. They were so well behaved that I had no issue letting them go play with their friends when we got home. As usual, they travel between multiple houses on their bikes and scooters. Before long, I had a large crowd in my backyard on the play set. They came in to tell me they were going back to a friend’s house and off they went.

A few moments later, Sugar is racing in the house screaming that the ice cream truck was coming up the road and she needed money. I reminded her that we had ice cream an hour before and she screamed, “NO WE DID NOT” after her head started spinning. As you can imagine, this conversation went nowhere good fast. Then Spice comes pedaling down the street. I could see her screaming something but couldn’t hear her, so I went outside where she started yelling about the ice cream man from the street. I tried several times to say, “Stop screaming at me” but I didn’t get anywhere. She finally heard me when I roared, “GET IN THE HOUSE NOW.”

And there I was, stuck in a house on a Friday night with two screaming children. I sent them upstairs to let them scream in their own space and Spice raced up the stairs while Sugar stood in front of me to tell me again how wrong I was about EVERYTHING. At this point, one of their friends came biking back down the street to get the girls to come back out. She rode into our driveway, heard the commotion in the house, did a U-turn and left. I’m pretty sure the entire neighborhood now knows that the residents of our home are plumb fucking crazy.

I did what any other mother would do at this point. I was about to lose it, y’all… I calmly (I can’t believe I was holding it together!) told them to get their butts in the tub, then go to bed. Arguments ensued again… “IT’S STILL LIGHT OUT, WE CAN’T GO TO BED YET!” and “OUR FRIENDS ARE WAITING FOR US TO COME BACK.”

I won this round and both were tucked in before 8 pm on a Friday. I had an entire night of peace and quiet. I wasn’t even sure what to do with myself for that much time. It was a bit of heaven on earth.

EN did not have hockey Friday night, so he was home earlier than usual. I reminded him that he needed to play Tooth Fairy as Sugar had lost another tooth. He snuck up the stairs and was gone forever. When he finally came back down, he handed me a note that was attached to the tooth.

The original note was written in pencil, but I scanned and
traced so it was easier to read. The original will be kept for
all eternity. 

Let’s dissect the note, shall we?

1.       “Dear Family:” I like that she doesn’t specify any one of us. We are lumped into one giant pitcher of Haterade.

2.       “Hope you know how upset you have made me:” What was upsetting to her? The fact that I denied her a second dessert or the fact that I made her go to bed early?

3.       I really enjoy the specific schedule she lays out for herself for June 2, 2012. Mama runs a tight ship, looks like her girl will be the same way.

4.       “Love you all.” Again, no one specific, but she does specify that she will miss her sister.

5.       And finally, a bribe… she’ll stay if she gets a hamster. Really?

6.       “Love your leaving daughter” is by far my favorite line of the note. The poor dickens!

7.       Be sure to also note all the ANGRY punctuation in the note. Last time I had periods that big, I had just given birth!

I handled the note like any reasonable mother would. When she got up on Saturday morning, I asked her if she needed a suitcase. She told me that she changed her mind and would be staying. I said, “Oh, that’s too bad. I already have a new kid for your room.”

Meanwhile, it’s obvious that she knows who the Tooth Fairy is. Do we still have to play that game with her? Or can we just tell her the Tooth Fairy won’t come for her anymore because she thinks she’s gone to live somewhere with a nicer family? 

xoxo

Ice Princess