How to Complain Properly

As a child, when I heard my parents or paternal grandparents complain about something, there were no holds barred. You said what you wanted, whether you sounded like a rude prick or not. Obviously, I saw my parents do this more than I witnessed my grandparents, but I know they did the same. I come from a long line of rude complainers.

When I moved out on my own, I practiced this same tactic. If my utility bill was wrong, I called and screamed at the poor soul that answered the phone.  If I felt wronged in any way, I’d kick up a big fuss about it, after all, that’s what I was taught. I remember when I worked at Sears and brought my car in for some work. The night manager didn’t know me and didn’t realize I worked there when he called to tell me that the initial estimate was wrong and the actual work would cost a lot more money. So, I did what any girl of Polish/German descent would do. I marched down to the garage and I cornered that little manager and yelled at him. I may have even poked him once or twice.

I’m happy to say that I won, I got my way. But as I walked back to my own department, something occurred to me. I looked and sounded like a complete asshole doing that to some poor guy. We weren’t alone in that area, so everyone watching must have thought, “What a shrew!”

Fast forward a few decades and I find myself intensely disliking confrontation of any kind. (Why I took that mediation training is beyond me… a topic for another time.) I have had the good fortune of being around my parents and sister when they complain about things. Their method of doing so makes my skin crawl. So I try not to complain. Ever. I’ve eaten many a crap meal for fear of complaining and having someone spit in my food. I’ve had multiple Lemondrop Martinis that were rimmed in salt rather than sugar. I sit there and I eat and drink and never utter a peep. I would die first.

Since I married EN, it’s been his job to do the complaining. Here is the justification I give for giving him the shit work: EN is genuinely nice and he comes across that way. When I play nice while righting a wrong, my bitch face shines right though. The genuinely nice person should speak up. Over the years, he’s finally started taking on this task without waiting too long, so the complaint doesn’t matter anyway. He scored a free printer when he called the manufacturer and complained about something. His persistence got us away from one bad propane company and got us into a fuel-buying co-op. He’s done really well.

So when I was pissed off the other night about the $1 juice boxes at Sugar's skating pary, I said that we should complain to the rink. This is married talk for, “It’s your job, call and say something.” Somehow (I know it was the beer talking) I volunteered to make the call. I conveniently forgot about that and texted EN yesterday to ask how the call went. He said I was supposed to do it. Great.  

I called the rink in the afternoon and I was beautifully behaved, if I may say so myself. I smiled the WHOLE time I was talking because they say you can hear a smile over the phone (whatevs). I also used "nice voice" the whole time. I told her the party was wonderful and everyone had a great time THEN I mentioned the ridiculous charges from their required vendor. Then I said something nice again, this is called “sandwiching” for those of you not in the know.

The lady I talked to seemed stunned by what I told her about the charges. She thanked me for calling and thanked me for not screaming. She said that she would call her vendor and do something to make things right. I didn’t want anything free, maybe a teensy refund on the solid gold juice boxes, but I really thought the management of the skating rink should be aware of their vendors charges in the event they didn’t know. She said she called me back.

24 hours later, I have heard nothing. I totally should have gone postal on her.

xoxo

Ice Princess 

Belated Skating Party

Consider yourself warned. Every time I have a party, this pisses me off. So every time you read that I’ll be having a party, know in advance that sooner or later, I will bitch about this happening. I should properly tag these posts so you can ignore them if you are so inclined.

Sugar’s birthday was back in May and she desperately wanted a party that her BFFL would be able to attend. I tried to set up several movie dates, but BFFL didn’t want to see the movie that Sugar wanted to bring her friends to. Then we tried to set up a sleepover, but BFFL’s social calendar was too full to accommodate this extra activity.

Fast forward through graduations, recitals, field trips and travels, and months passed and Sugar went without a birthday party. She brought it up fairly regularly so I finally suggested an ice skating party as a fun way to beat the summer heat.  We decided to rent the ice for an hour so there was no limit to the amount of kids she could invite. We could also include siblings and parents and make it a family night.

She came up with a list of 45 friends and I either emailed or sent an invitation to via Facebook. Still others I had to actually call because I didn’t have their email addresses. Long story short, I heard back from less than half and of those, most were unable to attend.

I hate, hate, HATE rude people and ignoring an invitation that asks for an RSVP is just plain rude. It’s apparently become standard in today’s society. I guess RSVP now means: let us know if you are coming. If you can’t attend, just ignore the invitation and the hostess will just know you aren’t coming. I guess I missed that fucking memo. It takes 30 seconds to hit reply and type “unable to attend.” I wonder when we became a society of people too busy or important to respond to an email. They all have kids themselves, they MUST know how excited kids are about parties. How the birthday girl will say, “Who else did you hear from? Can they come?” Perhaps my children are odd and that’s not how every other kid behaves when there’s a party being held in their honor. It devastated me to have to say to Sugar, “Sorry I didn’t hear back from most of the asshole parents of your friends.”

We spent Saturday morning coming up with the perfect playlist and song order. Then we picked up the cake, had a late lunch and took a nap. Despite the low turnout, the kids (and parents!) seemed to have a wonderful time. Even the teen that told her father she wouldn’t get cold skating around in a tank top never left the ice. We all laughed a lot, especially at my expense. My entire family can skate and I can barely wobble across the ice. I think it hurts others to see me try to do something athletic. EN’s friend Doug and I sounded like a couple of senior citizens… oh my back, oh my ankle, oh my feet. Skinny Bitch and Killjoy treated us all to a race. Killjoy only *thinks* he won. What guy wouldn’t let his wife win? Seriously!! Boo fell spectacularly and Spice took time out from speed skating to laugh at her. That’s my kind-hearted cherub in action.

After the skate, we enjoyed pizza and a belated birthday cake. Here’s the other thorn in my side about having these “destination” birthday parties. Many places force you to buy the food and beverages from a specific vendor. I am generally happy to do this, but yesterday’s bill for pizza, soda and juice boxes lit me up. Their vendor charged us $1.00 per juice box. The same fucking juice boxes I just saw on sale at Walmart for $1.77/10-pack. You do your own math and figure out the mark up. I don’t want to know. Next time I’m smuggling in my own Capri Suns.

Of the people that were supposed to show up, three families didn’t attend. No phone call, no apology, no nothing. I can’t decide if that’s even ruder than not responding at all. This makes my child watch the door, waiting and wondering, “Where are the rest of the friends that said they’d come?” Thank you for bringing disappointment to my kid. My sunshiny kid faltered just a bit, but bounced back quickly and enjoyed the friends who made it out for her party.

With a little push from Skinny Bitch, I did call one of the No Shows out on her behavior. This is a woman that we mutually know. A gal that tells Skinny Bitch all the time how close she and I are, even though we’ve barely spoken in a year or two. I texted her today to say, “Sugar wanted me to tell you she is sorry you weren’t able to come yesterday.” Her response? Drum roll please… “Ok, no prob.” I’m guessing she either didn’t read my text or she’s a bigger bitch than I thought.

The next time you get a party invitation for one of your kids, respond right away… Imagine, it could be your kid waiting and wondering, who’s coming to my party? 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Good Things...

Big changes, they are a-coming!

I am so very pleased to announce that I’m pregnant. HA HA, that’s a big fat lie. Did you believe me? You should know better… I’m just fluffy!

For real this time, some of you know this already, but some don’t. In June, I sent off an application for my blog to become part of the Blogher Publishing Network. I have received an “official invitation” to join and filled out all the required paperwork yesterday. I believe there may be one final step to the application process.

What does this mean? It means that you will be able to find me on blogher.com, but I’ll still be here too. It means that I’m on a list of people that can opt in to review products and books… doesn’t that sound like fun? I’ll have things to blog about when I can’t come up with ideas on my own. No more emails from y’all asking if I have a brain cramp! Ads will also appear on my blog. They will be located in the sidebar, feel free to click on them, or not.

It also means that if I post something they find interesting, my blog could be featured on their site. Imagine that! It means that my blog will be one of thousands on Blogher, rather than one of millions on the ol’ Internet. Perhaps I’ll snare a few more faithful readers, not that there’s anything wrong with the twelve that check in daily.

In the meantime, stop by blogher.com and check it out! There are some great blogs on there and they’re all even categorized by interest. It’s really quite cool and I’m honored that my blog may become part of that.

xoxo

Ice Princess 

Renaming the Sisters

Some days, the nicknames I have given my girls are bass-ackwards. Yesterday was one of those days. I picked the girls up from my parents and both seemed to be in decent moods. They had spent the afternoon decorating my mother’s backyard with ribbons and colored paper hearts. It looked quite festive.

Before leaving, I asked the girls to clean up their various messes and then we were on our way. As we pulled into the driveway, I got a text from my dad asking where Spice put the new water bottle my mother had bought her. If he was texting me such a question, I figured my mother was probably on the warpath.

As Spice is known to smuggle (ok, steal) stuff out of their house at times, I made sure she brought this beloved new bottle into the house and didn’t have it with her. She said she left it on the counter, so I told him that and suggested a few other places that he could look for it. Sugar gloated, knowing her sister was in trouble. I went back and forth with my dad and Spice started to get more and more upset about where she had left the bottle. I finally told her that if she didn’t tell me where the bottle was, she wasn’t going swimming. I’d rather deal with mad Spice than my mother. What does that tell you?

Spice offered up a few more places where the bottle might be and went upstairs to get her swimsuit on, certain that she’d be able to swim. I heard Sugar follow her up there and say, “I don’t know why you are putting your bathing suit on. Mama said you can’t swim.” Just then, my mother called. She was laughing and said that she found the water bottle in the freezer. Spice must have gotten confused and put it in the freezer rather than the fridge. Sugar was behind me and I could hear her giggling. She said, “Wasn’t that a funny trick I played? Hiding her water bottle?”

Really, you little devil. You knew your sister was in trouble and you even followed her around to remind her she was in trouble… and still you didn’t feel the need to ‘fess up? I sent them outside so I could get my thoughts in order. I called them back in and told Sugar that I thought she had been a little mean to her sister. It’s ok to play a trick on someone, but when they get in trouble, it’s time to let everyone know what you did. If you confess quickly enough, it’s funny. If you wait too long, one person is in trouble and everyone else is mad. The rest of our discussion went like this:

Me: I think I need to take something from you, to punish you for being mean.

Sugar: Ok, how about my iPod?

Me: Fine. It’s mine for a couple of days.

Spice: Well then I won’t use the iPad either, since we are being punished.

Me: You aren’t being punished. You didn’t do anything wrong. (This time, I muttered under my breath.)

Spice: Yeah, but I want to feel the same as Sugar feels.

Come again? You want to be punished along with your sister? Let’s remember the last time Spice got in trouble… The greatest way to punish her is to make her go without her evening snack. I swear, the last time this happened, Sugar happily scarfed down her own, then asked for what Spice didn’t get to have.

xoxo

Ice Princess 

Cookies and Cat Food

I started off willing my “Minute of Nothing” to continue yesterday morning, but felt a little guilty doing nothing after telling the girls there was no way in hell they were swimming until AFTER the messes they created in their bedrooms and the family room was cleaned up. I even added in the extra threat of “I’m inspecting” this time too.

I started puttering around, cleaning up other areas of the house. I didn’t do enough work in any particular space to make things appear neat, mind you, but I did rearrange some piles of crap. I even shredded a bunch of stuff so the piles are a teensy bit smaller. Really, I need to figure out what needs to be kept and what doesn’t. I don’t want all this clutter any more.

I then tackled the checkbook and was thrilled to see what my balance looked like with no daycare payment. What I should say, is that it was always my choice to work and paying for child care goes along with that decision. I don’t argue the amount I paid or the care my girls ever received, but it feels good to have that expense off the budget for the summer.

The girls finished cleaning and hit the pool. I spent several hours on the deck playing, “Mama, watch this!” as the girls performed amazing stunts in our little pool. I forced them to get out a couple of times, but waited until their lips were Smurf-blue and their teeth were chattering. Without evidence like that, they’ll scream that they ARE NOT COLD. They insisted on having lunch outside and I was amused to see that Spice put on her crown as a matter of routine, just like Sugar puts on her glasses. I guess when you are royalty, you must flaunt it. Perhaps introducing Spice to “My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding” was a bad move on my part.

Early in the morning I had a post on my Facebook that one of the packages arrived in Afghanistan. This inspired me to make the cookies that the girls wanted to bring to the firemen for driving them to school. The girls made cards and ate cookies and I had two big platefuls for them to bring today. I have yet to hear how the drop off went. I do know that Spice did not get the opportunity to lay her googly-eyes on the hottie fireman. I’m sure she’s disappointed.

Since Bella went missing back in May, I started following these ridiculous pages on Facebook. They really aren’t ridiculous, they are so very sad. I see posts from the Florida Boxer Rescue and have fallen in love with both London and Beaumont only to see them die because they weren’t saved from neglect earlier. I am on the list for a dog recovery site, and I see all the dogs in my region that are lost, then found… sometimes dead, sometimes alive. And my heart breaks every fucking time. It only made sense then that when I saw that the local animal shelter was looking for canned cat food, I asked EN to pick some up when he went to Walmart with the girls today. I’m also smart enough to know I would not have left the shelter empty handed, so I asked him to drop the donation off today.

So wow, yeah, I’ve totally tooted my own horn here and made myself sound like the giving-est person in the world, what with my cookies, junk food and cat food. Call me Mother Teresa. I think I did this stuff to assuage my own guilt. I wrote recently about wanting to fight and I duked it out with my mother last week. What shithead fights with their own mother? ME!

I guess I must still have a lot of anger about what went down with my niece and her “graduation.” I may have said a few snarky things like, “I don’t understand how she has money for a nose piercing, but can’t afford to pay her own tolls every week?” And, “Why did she bother signing up for beauty school? She’s not even going to bother attending.”

Oh yes, my behavior was delightful. I need to learn to keep my fucking mouth shut and just keep baking cookies and buying cat food.  

xoxo

Ice Princess

A Minute of Nothing

It was a dreary looking day here today and we waited all day for the rain to come. The girls had no desire to go outside, so they stayed busy in the family room building a tent and watching movies. I sat on the couch with a book that I’ve been trying to get through without much luck. The main character said, “I need a minute. Of nothing.” It struck me then, that that’s exactly what I needed for this weekend.

I’ve been going so hard for so long, working on my degree all the while working full time and being a wife and mother. I tried hard to not lose sight of my goals while making sure my husband got to continue doing what makes him happy, and my girls stayed involved in their various activities. Sometimes there were things we couldn’t do and events we couldn’t attend, but we all tried awful hard to do as much as we could. I think we all handled it well, but who knows, the girls may end up in counseling as teenagers for their shitty childhoods.

The months of May and June brought weekends packed with activities. There were graduations, rehearsals, recitals, separate trips for both EN and me, etc. At the end of last week, everyone at work talked about their plans for this long holiday weekend. I said that I had plans for Saturday night, but the rest of the weekend was wide open. Maybe it was only a few weeks ago, but it feels like a like a lifetime ago that we had a couple of days off with no obligations. We had no one to visit and no place we needed to be. All of a sudden today, I felt like I was free at last!

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve enjoyed all of our recent activities and last night’s trip into Boston for shopping, dinner and seeing West Side Story was fantastic. Every time I go to Boston, I’m reminded of how much I love that city and that I really need to share it with my girls.

Today was a completely lazy day. We spent the afternoon hanging out while watching trash TV once the girl’s movie was over. I introduced them to the crème de la crème of crazy TV… My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding. If you have not tuned in to watch this debacle, you simply must. There’s nothing else quite like it. Sugar said repeatedly, “Oh my word!” while watching the antics during the reception. Spice seethed with envy over the outfits worn by the bride, bridesmaids and mini-brides (young relatives of the bride that wear matching bridal gowns. Their dresses even come equipped with fake boobs!). We also tuned in for an episode of Say Yes to the Dress, after all, what little girl doesn’t want to look at women trying on wedding gowns?

After the excitement of those shows, I really needed an additional minute of nothing, so I napped. I woke up craving the white-trash lasagna that Spice loves so much (plain Ragu, no boil noodles, hamburger, ricotta and mozzarella). She claims it tastes like candy and I can see her point. The sauce is hardly seasoned and a little sweet. It is also completely smooth, which assures the girls that I haven’t tried to smuggle gross stuff into the meal.

After our dinner, we hunkered down for more trash TV, but the evening unexpectedly turned inspirational. We watched Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. This episode centered around a soldier from Fort Hood that had been injured in the mass shooting in November 2009. Sugar and I cried through most of it and she kept saying, “It’s so sad, but so happy at the same time.” Then, because we hadn’t cried enough, we watched Undercover Boss. The focus of this episode was Baja Fresh, which I had never heard of. After seeing this show, I would like to become a frequent customer of this chain, no matter how fat I get. The owner that went undercover had the biggest heart ever. He was so touched by the employees he met that he donated money, scholarship funds, educations and even a franchise opportunity to one young manager. It’s proof that money doesn’t change everyone.

And so… my minute of nothing is expected to continue tomorrow. The weather is supposed to be nicer and I’m sure the girls will want to spend the day in the pool. I’ll sit on the deck and supervise their pool play. Perhaps I’ll clean up a little or do some laundry, or not. Perhaps I’ll let this minute of nothing last just a little bit longer. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Farmer's Market

Last month when I was in Omaha, my friend and her husband suggested going to the local farmer’s market on Saturday morning. This isn’t something they normally do on a Saturday morning and it may well have been their first time at this farmer’s market in the Old Market section of Omaha.

I absolutely loved being there, even though the weather wasn’t that great. There were loads of customers, vendors, musicians and free samples! In some spots it was as crowded as the mall at Christmas time. But here, there’s no rushing, pushing or attitudes. Everyone smiled and waited their turn. Perhaps it was atmosphere; perhaps it was simply that I was in the Midwest… where people seem a little friendlier.

I was surprised at how much produce was already available. There were tomatoes, salad mix, kohlrabi, radishes, just loads of stuff. Other vendors had homemade soaps, bread, pies, honey, flowers, meat. A local Greek restaurant had a double-sized stall and had a crazy selection of baklava-did you know you can get this in a variety of flavors?! They also had freshly baked pita bread. Some of the samples we tried were little bits of heaven.

I don’t think I had been to a farmer’s market since I was little and went with my parents. I was disappointed at this one because I was leaving in two days and really couldn’t see buying all kinds of things. That didn’t stop me from indulging in the free samples-oh, that honey wheat bread with butter.

I’ve always *meant* to take the girls to a farmer’s market and going to this one gave me the push to take the chicks. I recently found out about one that is held every Friday about 15 minutes from our house. The girls and I checked it out today. For some reason, they felt the need to dress up for this excursion and Sugar put on a sundress and Spice donned a favorite tutu. I guess we never get to be the family that just blends in. Sigh.

This farmer’s market was much, much smaller than the one in Omaha. There were less than ten vendors and hardly any customers, even on this gorgeous evening. We aren’t lucky enough to have a lot of produce to choose from yet, but vendors were selling breads, pies, dog treats, eggs, cheese, jams, etc. They also lacked a variety of samples. Spice spotted the only offering and dug right in, then tried for seconds. Why hasn’t her mother taught her any class?

This is where I out myself. Ice Princess does really have a heart. She only plays the mean cold bitch on TV. I felt bad for these people. There were only a few other customers, and I felt so sorry for the vendors spending their time, selling their wares and no one was really buying. They are our neighbors, trying to run their own businesses and it breaks my heart when I hear of local growers closing up shop because they can’t make ends meet. So we bought stuff. We pissed through the cash I had on hand like we were drunken sailors at some exotic port of call. We bought dog treats, jam, bread, seasoned seaweed salt (from the sample lady, I was totally obligated) and some chocolate dipped marshmallows with pretzel sticks. We bought from nearly every single vendor. I congratulate myself for not going near the vendor selling sweaters and scarves made of alpaca wool. Had I approached that stall, I surely would have walked away with a pashmina wrapped around my neck. Because I need a scarf in July.

EN was disappointed that he couldn’t come along with us, so I texted him to tell him how it went. I told him of my need to buy things because I felt obligated. Wouldn’t you know, the nicest guy in the world has exactly the same issue? No wonder we live in a house full of random weird shit. No wonder he has a second motorcycle that doesn’t run, bought from a coworker in poor health. God forbid Mr. and Mrs. Kindheart ever win the lottery. We’ll just be sprinkling money all over everyone else. At least the freeloaders in our families will benefit.

xoxo

Ice Princess