Rely on Potty Humor for a Laugh

Because I am in a bad place and I have nothing but bad things to say, I will share a funny kid story. On Sunday, I was sitting out on the porch and the girls were with me along with a friend from down the street. This friend just so happens to share the same name as Spice, so we’ll call her Spicier.

It went down something like this:

Me: So it was nice that Maddy came back around on Friday.

Sugar: Yeah, she was better than the last time she was here. She threw that toilet paper right in the toilet!

Me: Well it could have been worse, I could have made you use the wet toilet paper.

Sugar: That’s gross!! You know what goes in a toilet? I crapped in there this morning!

Spicier: Oh, not me. I only crap on Fridays.

I laugh every time I think about this exchange. I laughed as I typed it and I laughed again as I reread it. Nothing like stupid potty humor to pull me out of the family melodrama I’m wallowing in.

I’ll be back soon… I’ve worked hard to reach TWELVE WHOLE FOLLOWERS. I’ll try to bring back the hot mess y’all are used to in the near future.

xoxo

Ice Princess

A.K.A Julie McCoy

Birthday Extravaganza is over for another year. It’s exhausting having two birthdays in one week. Who am I kidding, my birthday is all but forgotten since Sugar came along. It’s our fault that it’s this way. When she was about two, we took her to the Olive Garden on MY birthday (hers was still two days away!) and she had a screaming fit that they sang Happy Birthday to me and not her. What did we do about it? We asked them to come and sing to her. Yeah, we did. Our own fault. Totally.

Now’s she’s the ripe old age of eleven and still expects parades and roses and hamsters on every birthday. Spice is the same way, so obviously I’m doing something wrong in the way I am raising them. Or I could take a glance over at some behaviors I see on the OTHER SIDE of the family tree and blame them. But, then I'm scared because said individuals are in their 60's and 40's and MY KIDS WON'T BE LIKE THAT FOREVER, WILL THEY??

On Saturday morning, the girls finally started back up with their ice skating lessons. We hadn’t brought them since last year because we were busy with the move and kitchen remodel. There’s one eight-week session left before summer, so we signed them up. We are too late for taking part in the recital, so it’s just lessons for now. I paid for the lessons and settled down to read my book while they skated. I never even picked it up. I was surprised and in awe of how much they retained. Spice didn’t even do her “lay down and play dead on the ice" trick this time. Sugar is learning new jumps. I feel a little twinkly inside when I watch them.

I should state here that Sugar and I had long-standing plans for a shopping trip Saturday afternoon, just her and me. As we were about 45 minutes from home at the rink and Spice was with us, I figured it would be obvious that we were going home to leave Spice with her dad and hang out for a while. But no, we get in the car and Sugar says, “What are we doing next?” Really? “We are going home. You said this shopping trip was to be you and I, what would I do with Spice, leave her in the car??” So we went home and I took a nap, then got ready for the mall.

I’ll be honest, I was dreading it. I’ve been feeling like anything I do for Sugar just is not enough. I feel like I never EVER meet her expectations. I don’t buy her enough things, I don’t spend enough time with her, I don’t do enough for her… I just don’t understand where I’ve gone so terribly wrong. I knew that this year she wanted a dog/rabbit/guinea pig/gerbil/hamster for her birthday and EN and I agreed that we have enough pets so we told her no… and kept telling her no, despite posters, cards, texts and emails sent in an attempt to convince us that a new pet was a good idea. I figured that the final round of “No pet for your birthday” would be fought at the mall and we’d leave angry.

However, I was surprised beyond belief at what a nice time we had. She never even mentioned the hamster. We shopped in her favorite stores. We sat side by side and she got her first pedicure ever. She used the money I gave her in lieu of a party to buy a new iPod. We left happy and our feet looked fabulous.

Man with tattoos like that should be rubbing on Mama's
feet, not Sugar's... Just sayin'.

Next on the agenda was dinner with Fly Girl and Bella, and EN and Spice. We went to a Japanese grill where the food is cooked right in front of you. I’m embarrassed to say that was the first time I went to a place like that. We loved it! Spice asked on Sunday if we could have that for dinner again. They never eat that well and both nearly cleared their plates-and Sugar was using chopsticks! Why is it that my kid can use them (I taught her!!) but I can’t?

On Sunday Sugar was off to an indoor water park with her Girl Scout troop. When I picked her up in the afternoon, I was asked to drive another girl home. As soon as the friend got out of the car, Sugar says, “What’s next?” What’s next is that I am going to go home and nap because I’m exhausted thinking about spending the day at a water park.

Just call me Julie Fucking McCoy. Remember her? The Cruise Director on The Love Boat? I don’t know if it’s the way I’ve raised my kids or if it’s society in general today, but I feel like they expect to have one activity stacked on top of another all weekend long. What’s wrong with taking the damn dog for a walk? Or playing with friends? What’s wrong with just hanging out?

I don’t think my kids are overly spoiled. In fact, I’ve seen them behave very graciously when they receive praise, cards, phone calls, gifts… In fact, I posted on my Facebook that it was Sugar’s party and she was near tears when she read the 20 comments, “These people took time out of their day to wish ME a happy birthday?” Then she asked if she could use my account (because I am Mean Mama and won’t let her have Facebook yet) to say thank you to everyone.

Given that they show other adults their best sides most of the time, I should probably shut up and put up, but I find myself to be so frustrated. I just can’t figure out why I’m so exhausted from trying to do it all, yet I’m made to feel like I’ll never do enough. At least this weekend, for a brief instant, all was right in the world and we had a wonderful time together. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Laters, Baby...

If you knew where the title of this post came from, I know what you’ve been reading. If you don’t know what the title refers to, I have to ask… DO YOU LIVE UNDER A ROCK? HOW CAN YOU NOT HAVE HEARD OF THIS SERIES OF BOOKS?

I’m referring of course to the book 50 Shades of Gray. It’s been the hot topic on talk shows, the Internet, magazines, and playgrounds everywhere. Women are reading porn these days and they are all too happy to tell their friends all about it.

Back in the olden days (like last year), women may have read smut, but they didn’t talk about it. If they did, they owned up to reading something written by that bad girl Jackie Collins if they felt the need to read something racy. The popularity and main stream discussions of this book seem to have made the reading of down and dirty raunch acceptable.

I’m ok with this. In fact, I embrace it. If men can walk into a store and buy a Playboy without shame, why can’t a woman read a novel that causes her nether regions to smoke like a Grateful Dead concert?

Ultra and I discussed this book, but she read it before me. She recommended that I DROP EVERYTHING and read it. Then she was completely annoyed with my commentary about the book when I started it. Who can blame her? I’m a picky pain in the ass. I even annoy myself sometimes.

I liked the characters in the book, but the “good parts” didn’t make my loins ache as I was under the impression they would. I found the speed that Ana went from being a virgin to letting Christian tie her up a little unrealistic. I also found myself to be uncomfortable with the dominant/submissive angle of the story. Not my gig.

But as uncomfortable as I found that to be, nothing prepared me for an email from my mother. She had been at her hair salon and her stylist asked her if she had read the books. She recommended these books to my mother, so my mom felt the need to ask me if I had heard of the series. Y’all… I’m not discussing this shit with my mother. I just can’t. Despite some very vivid memories of walking in on my parents, I’ve convinced myself at this point that my birth was as a direct result of an immaculate conception. I don’t care what you have to say, that’s how it happened. My parents do not DO IT and my mother should have ZERO interest in smut. I won’t have it!

I told my mom that I had read the first book and it wasn’t really something I thought she would like. I didn’t say out loud, but if it is something she’d like, I don’t want to discuss it. My virgin ears would bleed.

Back to the books… I’ve read the first and plan on reading the rest of the series. However, I can’t read multiple books by the same author back to back because I end up annoyed by similar story lines, word usage, etc. I TOLD YOU, I am a total pain in the ass.

I’d also like to take a moment to enlighten the girlfriends about an unsung hero in the smut genre, if there is such a thing. I believe it’s properly referred to as erotic fiction. If you are in the mood, or NEED to get IN THE MOOD, check out Megan Hart. You can go right onto amazon.com and read an excerpt from her novel, Tempted. If that shit doesn’t set your panties on fire, I can’t help you.

And if this post about erotic fiction offends you, know that I am offended too. I would never read shit like that. Ever.

xoxo

Ice Princess 

The Sadness of Suicide

I sit here feeling a little sad at the end of a week that should have been filled with rainbows, butterflies and unicorns because it was Birthday Week. My birthday was Tuesday, Sugar’s was yesterday. A celebration in Sugar’s honor MUST last more than one day. There needs to be dinners with immediate family and one with grandparents, shopping trips to spend birthday money, cookies for school, cake for home. Everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday, so I indulge her. I draw the line at parades and hamsters.

A boy that went to Sugar’s school killed himself this week. He was young, only in 7^th grade. Rumors say he ran away from home and shot himself because his girlfriend broke up with him. He did not die immediately and his family was able to donate his organs. This beautiful young boy will live on in the lives of seven people who were recipients of his life-saving gifts. If there was ever a ray of sunshine in a devastating situation, this would be it. The family has responded to friends asking “How can I help” with a request that everyone donate blood and sign up to be organ donors. Truly amazing requests.

This suicide brought back memories of my own 5th grade year. A girl in my class took a bunch of Tylenol in an attempt to take her own life. Fortunately, she survived. I’m not sure to this day why she attempted to take her own life. I imagine it had something to do with the fact that she was probably teased for being the first girl to develop. She was an 11 year old stuck in the body of a gorgeous 16 year old. I remember that she had boobs and curves where we all remained flat chested and stick straight. I remember that she was one of the lucky girls with clear skin, light blue eyes and jet black hair. As I moved from that area a few years later, I only guess that she grew up to be a beautiful woman. I do hope the sadness and pain she felt in elementary school no longer plagues her.

Until Wednesday, I was completely unaware of a similar happening in my little town. I became aware of the situation when Skinny Bitch texted me to ask if I had received an email alert from the school. She saw some chatter about it on Facebook and was unable to check her email at the moment. When I checked, I found an ambiguous letter that talked about a 7^th grader being in critical condition in a hospital about an hour away. They went on to say that crisis counselors, guidance counselors and staff would be on hand to talk with the students.

Once again, parents are left in the dark. A letter from the superintendent and principal can only mean that we should have serious discussions with our children. But what topic exactly are we to discuss? A fellow student is in critical condition as a result of…???  Do we discuss the dangers of drugs? Do we discuss the dangers of wearing helmets while skateboarding and bicycling?

So we’re left to put our ears to the Mommy Mafia Underground. Some quick digging got me answers, but now I’m faced with having a discussion with my daughter based on rumor and innuendo. There was nothing in the media, there were no facts. I am unable to lead a discussion about what I know to be true.

I let Sugar guide the conversation. I asked her if anything had happened at school and she said no. I could have lectured her about the dangers of drugs, strangers and making smart choices, but I like to have a general idea of what the lesson should be.

I’m not suggesting that the school should have sent a detailed note about this student and what had occurred. I’m simply asking that they offer better information so parents know what is going on. They easily could have added a few words like, “A 7^th grade student is in critical condition after attempting to take his own life.” Or, they could have said that counselors were on hand to discuss suicide prevention.

On Thursday, the middle schoolers went to school and each class was visited by the counselors… who led discussions about suicide.  I appreciate that the well-being of every student is a concern to the district and the administration. I appreciate that they “mobilized a team of professionals.” However, I do not appreciate that parents weren’t notified of these impending discussions before sending our kids off to school Thursday morning.

The principal and superintendent did in fact send another letter home Thursday to inform parents that discussions had occurred within classrooms throughout the day. I’m dumbfounded that they couldn’t be bothered to inform parents of this so that we could prep our kids before their school day began on Thursday.

I realize that many parents today put the burden on the schools and would like them to handle the “tough stuff.” As my girl is very sensitive, I’d prefer to give a heads up so she’s not taken aback when news such as this is thrown at her. Before this week, I’m pretty certain that she had no idea what the word suicide even meant.

But that’s all beside the point… the point really is that devastating losses like this occur far too often. We can’t blame society or bullying or even weapons. I think it’s more important to remember how hard it is to be a teenager and how much it fucking sucked when you developed before your friends… or when you had painful acne that blew up all over your face… or when just being in your own skin made you want to curl up in a ball and cry. The raging hormones and self-doubt were crippling. It takes my breath away when I recall certain instances in middle school.

The only thing I can think of to keep my girls safe is to keep them close and to surround them with a village of people that they can trust and rely on. I understand that it’s often hard to talk to your parents when you are going through these things. I strive to keep my girls involved in activities and have them around their extended families and my friends. I want them to see that there are people that love them and think they are special and beautiful and important, even when they think they are small and insignificant. I want them to feel comfortable around adults whose friendships I cherish just so they know that someday, if they need a grown up to talk to and Mama just isn’t the right one, they have choices.

I go a step further and try to earn the trust of Sugar and Spice’s friends. I try to remember to ask them about things that are important to them. I try to compliment them to help build self-confidence. If there is one message I could pass on to every kid I know, every single day, it would be a line from The Help by Kathryn Stockett, “You is kind. You is smart. You is important.”

There is no one to blame when a suicide occurs. I only wish that the victim could be given the gift of seeing into the future and how much their action will affect their love ones. Not in the sense of “look how much you hurt your family,” but in the sense of, “look at the outpouring of love and kindness there is for you.”

May you rest in peace, BP. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Hard Lesson Learned

For the past two days I have worked at home and been victim to hosted several other children for day-long playdate/babysitting extravaganzas. I have served microwave popcorn, freeze-pops, English muffin pizzas, peanut butter sandwiches, cosmic brownies, leftover Easter candy, pitchers upon pitcher of pink lemonade and fruit punch and even whipped up a batch of Toll House cookies.

The kids played barbies, dolls, build-a-bears, Draw Something. They colored, painted and made jewelry. They’ve scootered outside, played whiffle ball, hula hooped and played on the swings. They pulled clothes out of closets and drawers to have fashion shows.

They dropped toilet paper into the toilet and dumped the unpopped popcorn kernels on the futon and down the stairs. Uncapped markers and errant beads littered the floor of the playroom like confetti after a grand celebration.

They screamed and laughed and carried on. And they fought. Oh, how they fought. I referreed, dried tears, yelled, screamed and begged for just one blessed moment of silence. In fact, EN went upstairs today and found one guest sitting inside Sugar’s closet rocking back and forth. Therefore, he deemed her a “weird kid.” I beg to differ. Had I been given the choice between getting involved in the melee, I would have sat in that closet right beside the weird kid. I’m fine with him calling me the Weird Mother so long as he deals with the drama that played out around me.

But one thing they did not do… They did not, over a period of two days, bother to clean up. They moved from one activity to the next leaving behind a trail of toys and clothes. I went upstairs periodically and suggested that they all work together to tame the beast and clean the mess.

They all heard me. Each one of those five little monsters heard every suggestion I made. Yet instead of working together and putting the various rooms back together, they bickered. Each one claimed that they were not responsible for the mess. I felt like I was blasted back in time to a Family Circus comic strip featuring Not Me and Ida Know. How did those little monsters find my house? Who gave them directions?

My final plea finally got a little bit of action. The two guests that were left attempted to help straighten up, but mostly just walked around looking in awe at the aftermath that was their hurricane. Soon enough, the mothers came and collected their kids and left Sugar and Spice in the devastation formerly known as their bedrooms and playroom.

I served them up a helping of tough love Ice Princess style. I told them that for the remainder of their spring break there would be no play dates, visitors, fun trip to malls or movies or restaurants until the mess was cleaned up. My orders were met with gasps of shock and horror and more tears.

I reminded them that I had made multiple trips upstairs and suggested, in the presence of their friends, that they get working on the mess. A team of five who wrecks a joint like that can certainly set it to rights a whole lot faster than two.

Instead of screaming and fighting like I thought they would, they worked together. The girls worked for an hour tonight and now have one immaculate bedroom and a playroom that is a “work in progress.” The second bedroom still resembles a crime scene.

They were united in their quest to continue the fun they had so far this week.

I have two little girls that learned a hard lesson tonight. The lesson wasn’t new to them, it’s been repeated frequently since I found them in the cabbage patch. The lesson is… LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER. When the mama says, “work together to clean up,” it’s probably a pretty good suggestion. At almost-eleven and six, they couldn’t see past the moment. They didn’t want to stop having fun to straighten up the games that had already been discarded. Had they taken a few minutes here and there (like every time I fucking told them to), they would have been left with rooms in slight disarray rather than tornado alley.

My girls have always been taught to clean up messes they make at their friends’ houses. When I pick them up from play dates and sleepovers, I always ask, in the presence of their friends and parents, “Did you clean up your mess?” I wonder if other parents follow this same guideline? I don’t want my kids to be known as some sort of wrecking crew. I want them to be well mannered and respectful of their friends and their things. Given that I felt like I was speaking a foreign language when I asked children that I didn’t spawn to assist in the clean-up effort, I’m of the opinion that not many follow this rule.

We’ll see how future play dates at the Ice Princess Castle go down.

xoxo

Ice Princess 

I'd Rather Discuss Frogs

Call me “Blogger of the Year” with the amount of posts I’ve been putting up lately. I’ll admit to being in a really shitty mood. Things have exploded with my parents and sister and I can’t seem to concentrate on much else. I thank God that I live in a house with wacky pets and even crazier people. They give me something else to focus on.

I’m thrilled to announce that Sugar’s 5^th grade science discussions currently revolve around sexual and asexual reproduction. Teachers: can y’all send a note home before such topics are brought up? Us pansy, embarrassed mamas need time to prepare for the onslaught of questions.

Last night at dinner, Sugar waited until EN left the table and then we had the following conversation:

Sugar: Humans are mammals and have to have a mate. How does that work?

Me: What do you mean? {Admit it, my stalling techniques are brilliant!}

Sugar: We are talking about sexual and asexual reproduction in Science.

Me: Then it sounds like humans are in the sexual reproduction category.

Sugar: yes, but how does that work exactly?

Thankfully, I don’t have to reply here because Spice felt the need to pipe up…

Spice: That’s easy. A boy and a girl see each other and they think each other is cute and they get married and have kids. DUH.

At this point, I think Sugar was taken aback by her sister having an answer, whether it was the answer she was looking for or not, but she needed to “one up” her on the DUH scale.

Sugar: Did you know that frogs can change themselves if there are too many of one sex? Like if there are too many girls, they can change into being boys.

This is a fact that I am unaware of, folks. For all I know, her description of the process may not even be accurate, but I definitely am NOT smarter than a fifth grader. However, I used the change in topic to my advantage.

Me: so. We have too many girls in this house. Which one of you wants to turn into a boy frog?

Crisis diverted.

Interesting conversations ahead. Can’t I just buy her a freakin’ book?

xoxo

Ice Princess

Cooking with Spice

Since I’m still loving the new kitchen, cooking hasn’t yet gotten old. We’ve been baking and making and cooking up a storm. The girls are so excited about the kitchen being all shiny and new that they’re anxious to help me cook. I’d say I’m sure it will wear off soon, but both of them really seem to like being in the kitchen helping me.  I will say that Sugar’s dash to load the dishwasher will probably end before I choose a paint color, but I digress.

Last week I dusted off one of our favorite chicken recipes (chicken breaded in Ritz crackers and baked… no way could that go wrong!) and set about cooking dinner. Sugar was parked at the breakfast bar doing homework and Spice tripped over herself to help me.

Spice joyfully filled the baggie with crackers and crushed them with all her might. I let her whip the eggs while I rinsed the chicken (always rinse your meat. If those asswipes in the meat department drop that on the floor, they put dirty meat in the package without washing. Don’t ask how I know. I just do). I’m sure I was making a face as I trimmed the nasty shit off the meat before dipping in egg and breading.

I should have realized I was in trouble when the whipping frenzy on the eggs slowed down.

Spice: Hey Mama?

Me: What up?

Spice: Does that feel like a wiener?

Me: Does what feel like a what??

Spice: That chicken. Does it feel like a wiener, you know like a wiener on a boy?

Any good mother would have been indignant at this point, yes? “HOW WOULD I KNOW WHAT A WIENER FEELS LIKE?? I’M A GIRL!” Behind me, I could hear Sugar jump down from the stool and scramble to find a utensil that she could use to hack of her innocent ears. And I answered, “Well, they’re made of skin, so I guess they probably feel like skin.”

And Spice rubbed her arm and said, “So it probably feels like this?” and I said, “I guess so.”

Dear God.

In my house, we talk about stuff as it comes up. I try to give them the answers they’re looking for without getting hideously embarrassed, but HOLY HELL does it suck sometimes. However, I don’t believe the questions they are asking at their ages are inappropriate. They go to school, they play on playgrounds. I’m SURE other kids tell them crazy stuff, just as when I was a kid we all compared what we knew and let our more knowledgeable friends fill in the blanks.

I shared the raw-chicken-wiener story with EN and he wanted to chop off his own innocent ears.

I shared the story with friends with kids and they found it to be hysterical, not at all out of the ordinary.

I shared the story with an unmarried coworker that has no kids and she thinks there’s something wrong with my kids. “Kids just don’t talk that way. They shouldn’t be that curious already.”

So yesterday when I was playing Draw Something with Spice supervising and had to draw Aquaman for the above-mentioned coworker, Spice suggested adding a wiener to be sure my coworker would know the stick figure was a boy.

I let her add the wiener. She was happy. It looked like a line squiggle in the general wiener vicinity. 

Is there really anything wrong with curious kids? 

xoxo

Ice Princess