State of the State in the Whatchamacallit Household

I have had some otherwordly virus this week that morphed into a sinus infection that caused me to be actively teaching about something in class and the running dialogue in my head was …

I feel like shit. Like shit.  Oh I don’t feel good. I feel like shiiiiiit.

So I was present, but I’m not confident that a lot of good quality education went on this week.  I thought about taking a sick day but I never seemed quite sick enough for that.  Instead, on Thursday I dug out an old unused anitibiotic and started taking it in massive quantities.  Thank God for pharmaceuticals.

Today is the first day I am beginning to feel like myself which is good because Nephew is back from his three day sojourn at camp with his class and I’m Referee in Chief between him and Wunderkind.

I get it.  Wunderkind can be supremely annoying.  Especially if you are the beloved.  The object of his attention and affection.  And if you are new in this house, congratulations, you are the beloved.  He will be on you like a tick and you will have no respite from his three year old shenanigans.

But, the African way seems to be to beat the living crap out of the younger thus firmly establishing the pecking order of oldest to youngest and I’m not too into that.  When my husband’s family visited this summer they brought three cousins with them ages 4 – 8.  Wunderkind lost his ever loving mind during their 9 day visit and literally beat the shit out of the four year old girl every chance he got.  I spent the visit scooping him up, running for time out, and secluding him in our bedroom.  His auntie came and thought she solved the problem by telling Wunderkind, “You all are cousins.  You will learn to love each other.  It is not my concern if you hit each other from sun up to sun down, I don’t want to hear about it.”

Fix the problem?  I call that adding fuel to the fire because to Wunderkind, that sure sounded like PERMISSION, AUNTIE.

Now to say the tables are turned on Wunderkind would be an understatement.  Cousin is 11 years older, twice as tall, and twice as heavy.  I’ve had to explain to Nephew the proper way to get Wunderkind off his back and the consequences of not obeying to Wunderkind.  I have been setting guidelines for behavior – chores for Nephew, NO DAMN BITING, new rules for Wunderkind (If Nephew’s door is shut, stay OUT.), and for God’s sake Nephew do not feed the allergic Wunderkind ANYTHING unless you ask me first.

As for Daddy W., he finally got the hint that I was SICK GODDAMMIT and handled dinner for the kids last night by ordering pizza.  He could have ordered strippers for all I cared, I just wanted to sleep in peace.  Today, he rewarded himself by taking off and going to the libary to “study.”

I’ll bet he’s napping.  I know I would be.


The Exhaustion Chronicles, Part 1 of 39284902481

Well, I did it.

I gave birth to a full grown, 14 year old African boy this afternoon at 4 PM when Daddy W picked his nephew up from the airport.  I will be mummy and chauffeur and homework helper and God only knows what else every moment from now until May starting with getting him ready to leave for camp with his new class in the morning.

I’m fucking exhausted, people.

Turns out I wasn’t as ready for a visitor, especially a year long one, as I had hoped.  “Here’s your room! Now let’s get in the car and spend your grandmother’s money on necessities like clean, non drooled up pillows and pillow cases, socks, and clothes for you to wear to camp. And bright and early tomorrow morning?  We will put you on a bus and send you away for three days.  Tis the American Way!  Cheers!”  Nothing in the world makes you come out of your shell faster than having to explain to your new auntie in the middle of the Wal Marts that yes, you did bring enough underwear for camp because it’s tell me now while we are right here or forever keep your chafing to yourself.

Daddy W. has claimed that Nephew will be with us for one year as he goes to our international school to better his English.  I saw that the immigration paperwork is good for five years which would carry him through high school. I think Daddy W. is pulling a fast one on me.

Wunderkind is smitten even though Nephew is ten years older.  Wunderkind has not left Nephew’s side for one moment and lobbied hard for sleeping in the same bed with him.  “But mommy!  He has two pillows! Someone has to sleep on the other one.”  Nice try, little one.  Get your ass in bed.

Which reminds me, as we were taking Nephew to his first American out to eat dinner at ….McDonald’s (yucko) Wunderkind pulled out all of his nice words to welcome Nephew, including fart, poop and the perennial favorite “Get. your. ass. in. bed.”  which is used shockingly sparingly around here given his nightly bedtime antics.  Clearly, we do not use it sparingly ENOUGH.

So.  to recap.  14 year old nephew, here for 1-5 years like he is doing time with us.  Wunderkind is in love… hope that holds out.  And in other news, I have started round the clock Dayquil / Nyquil combos in order to combat the cold that took control of my face today while I attempted to teach 6th grade and caused my eyes and nose to simultaneously weep clear fluid. I swear the kids thought I was suddenly crying.  Nothing says I’m a professional like a weeping teacher.

Have I mentioned that I’m fucking exhausted?



Republicans? I just don’t get you.

What’s the trio of subjects you do not bring up in polite company?  Religion, politics, sex?  Well, I mentioned religion yesterday.  Time for politics next.  Sex?  Probably never to be talked about on here.  Girl has to have some limits you know.

Okay, so I know some will find this offensive and I’m sorry, but Republicans?  I don’t get you.

I’m surrounded by them in my community and my family.  My mother.  My brother in law.  Half the people I work with and most of the families I teach.  When I find a Democrat amongst them I want to tongue kiss them like there’s no tomorrow.  It’s a rare occurence.

This came to mind because a former student pasted on Facebook yesterday about being out on the lake.  This student comes from a very wealthy family who has accomplished great things.  He had the privelege of an elite private school.  His college education?  Totally paid for. No student loans for him.  And at the age of 25 he’s out on his parent’s boat on the lake enjoying his Labor Day Weekend.  I’m happy for him.

Except he’s also begun posting lots of Republican drivel and I’m sure he espouses the “I built that” mentality.  He hasn’t built anything.  He’s enjoying the privelege he has due to his parents’ hard work managing others who make significantly less money who actually did the work. Do you know who “built” him?  I did.  HIs parents did.  His teachers, friends, and community did.  The people who work for his parents did. No matter the product produced, you had help.

I also do not understand those who will vote against their own interest this fall. My mother had a heart attack this summer and spent significant time in rehab.  She hated it.   Even though she was in a short term rehabilitation wing, she was housed with people 20 years older than her who were on the fast track to dementia.  Women wandering the hallways at 2 am looking for their purses.  It waas hard.  She also loves her Medicare and is quite vocal about that.

Yet, because she is so blindingly pro-life (as am I), she will vote Republican this fall (as I will not), even though neither party will do one thing about abortion and her party would like to give vouchers for elder care.  A voucher?  If you don’t know where your purse is, I’m not sure you are equipped to choose a health care plan or have the extra funds available to bridge the gaps in your care.

Another friend who doesn’t even fucking vote has plenty to say. She is opposed to the President and his health care reform.  Her family owes THOUSANDS…probably upwards of $100,000 in medical bills due to a crappy employer provided plan that has a $20,000 out of pocket per year per family member.  She has not been well for several years and I know that she has maxed out her insurance.  She stands to benefit directly from any change in health care…. and yet…and still….

As for others that I come across who think that “regulation is killing small businesses…”  are you kidding me?  Regulation is the only thing that keeps behemouths from reaching directly in your pocket and taking your money while they stick their other hand up your ass, just because they can.  For every single regulation?  There is a company who made that rule necessary.  You can no longer trust corporations to do what is best for the customer in order to survive.  They have become too big, too wealthy, and too powerful in order for that to happen…bank bailout, anyone?  I’m not anti-corporation, but let’s stop pretending that businesses, big or small, have any kind of internal, moral compass, shall we?  Business only real goal is profit, one way or another, and its morality is only as good as that of the owner or the board who stand to gain financially by their decisions.  How much are their morals worth?  For some, the price is far too low.

Republicans. I do not get you.

Sunday Confessional

When I began my previous blog, I envisioned using it as a place to explore issues and how they affected or were affected by spirituality.

What I quickly figured out is that religious people are a judgy-judgy people. I didn’t want to post anything that could be misconstrued and later used against me in my community.  So, of course, I never posted anything but the most bland of feel goodie kind of stuff.   I didn’t need my most personal of business spread around my workplace.

Like all people, I have real struggles: spiritual, emotional, physical, etc.  You do too.  It’s part of the human condition.  We can only discuss these in spaces that we consider safe, private (even if the only privacy is based on our total anonymity), and secure.  We can discuss with utter strangers that which we dare not utter to our own closest friends.  We face judgement from our friends which stings; but judgement of strangers can sometimes be enlightening if we look at it as an impartial view point.

So here is my Sunday Confessional.

My marriage is struggling and I don’t think my husband even realizes it.

We have been married six years this month.  We married only six months after we met and I spent a lot of that six months in prayer.  I was convinced that this was the man I was meant to marry and I still believe that with my whole heart.

Our marriage has faced a lot of obstacles.  Our child, though a source of joy, has chronic medical conditions (allergies, seizure disorder) which keep us constantly in a heightened state of anxiety.  My husband was in a terrible car accident when he was 15 years old and was in a coma for a month afterward.  I do not know the extent of his brain injury but I can guess that the medical care he recieved in Africa in 1991 wasn’t top level.  He is quiet and secretive.  After all this time he still thinks that the details of day to day life are his to know alone. I have to resort to CIA Waterboarding techniques to extract the most simple information from him and sometimes I just shout “I give up,” because the energy required to find out when his doctor’s appointment is just isn’t worth it.  He is reserved and stingy with affection.

I’m not gonna lie.  It’s hard when I look down the long lens of what my future holds and imagine 30, 40 years of my current day to day life.  But I wonder where Daddy W would be without me?  I love him and I want him to be the best human he can be, and I think our marriage does that for him.

This flawed man, my husband, may already be operating at his optimum capacity.  I can’t ask more of him than he can possibly deliver.  Can I continue to accept him where he is and love him to the best of my own flawed ability?

This tweet came across my stream this morning:

I continue to pray for my husband…that God continue to help him be the best he can be and that I can accept his best with love… that the gap between reality and my expectation can continue to narrow.

What do you need to get off your chest?  Use the comments as your own confessional….

Food is complicated here

In the future, I intend to do one food post a week, on Fridays, BUT like everything else in my life I’m totally off schedule this week.

Food should be easy.  You’re hungry? You eat.  Period.

Food is complicated in my house.  Daddy W is Muslim; Goodbye pork, I miss you the most. Wunderkind is allergic to eggs, soy, fish, coconut oil, peanuts, and tree nuts.  The allergist told me that most children are allergic to only one food, a small percentage are allergic to two, and it’s very rare to have one like mine allergic to so many.  Well Dr. Allergy, we just rock the shit out of allergic living, don’t we?

I would like us to eat only real, whole healthy foods with no additives and chemicals.
I am intrigued by some elements of the Paleo Diet, particularly giving up wheat, but because of allergies the recipes that use coconut, almond, or soy are totally off limits here.  I like the recipes I read in the nourishing traditions type of diet, but also cannot use coconut oil and cannot fathom lacto-fermenting anything on my own.  I think local organic food is necessary as much as possible to avoid harmful chemicals and genetically modified organisms.  I think that buying locally grass fed / pastured meat, chicken, and eggs is socially responsible and healthier due to a better ratio of Omega 3/6/9 fats.  I worry that my son doesn’t get enough good fats since he can never eat fish.

No wonder that most nights by the time dinner comes around I am paralyzed with indecision.  I avoid meal planning right now like it’s a pox on my head.  I hate grocery shopping these days because not only what do I buy, but where should I buy it?  There are no local grocery stores.  I pretty much avoid the mega-marts and shop the regional groceries, but as we moved to a new town last month, the particular products and brands I had searched out in our last grocery are not availble in this one and I’m starting all over.

I hope on Fridays to explain WHY eating real food is beneficial and how we are doing along that path.  I’m a terrible photographer, so it won’t be pretty, but let’s be honest, dinner with a three year old is rarely pretty.


Things that piss me off Thursdays

  • Not getting to post on a Thursday because I was too tired at 4 PM and too insomniac at 10 PM which led to an actual bedtime of 8:30 PM and sleep time of 11:30 PM.  That is one fucked up evening.
  • Friends who promote their shady business ventures on Facebook.  I love Facebook. I am alllll about the oversharing on Facebook.  If you are a blogger, go right ahead and post your newest link.  If you are a small business owner and you want me to know about your specials or your hours, great.  If you sell weight loss shakes, brag endlessly about the BMW your “company” “gave” you, and boast about your gym workouts, you will totally piss me off.  And if you post this:

I will restrain myself, barely, from writing “An asshole.” in your comments.

  • Fast food estabishments that switch up their products without telling you that your egg allergic son has been served an “egg” bun for his Jr. Hamburger.  Got that “Bendy’s,” you bitch?   I have enough on my plate, with or without your Chili, I don’t need his vomit on it too.
  • If you are a local Baptist church that chooses to put incendiary comments on your very public sign, then please, for the love of Christ, learn to use “You’re” properly.  Posting “Your’e” isn’t even close to an acceptable misuse.  It’s just plain ignorant and speaks volumes for the rest of the crap you put up there.
  • Hey local business with your cute red and white Tea Party “I built this,” yard sign… I assume you mean the building?  No?  Oh then the road that brings your patrons to you?  No?  Ohhh…then the sewer system that your sign is posted over?  Oh…no, not that either?  You didn’t even build the sign?   Yeah.  I didn’t think so.  I’m not sure what it is that you built without help then.
  • If you have a job, could you please just do your job?  Just do your job.  Don’t pawn pieces of your job off on someone else.  Don’t pretend that it isn’t your job to do some task, when I know that it is.  Don’t act like it’s my fault that something isn’t done properly when it was your job to do so in the first place.  Know your job.  Do your job.  I’m talking to you insurance company, doctor’s office, fast food workers, apartment complex, etc. etc. etc.

Look forward to next Thursday where I will piss and moan about a new variety of things.



Significant, unforeseen, upcoming household changes

Somehow my husband’s ex-girlfriend found my previous blog.  About every 8 months she would look me up, read through my posts and then blow up my email with nasty grams.  Unfortunately she is also the mother of his daughter, so we will always be connected.  I have a lot I could say about her, but because I am such a lady, I will keep it to myself.


Ahhh…. feel the air clear already?

Some changes are getting ready to take place in the Whatchamacallit Household.  I’m giving birth to a 14 year old African Boy next week.  Oh yes. I am.  He’s going to get off a Southwest Airlines plane next week and I already feel like I’m in labor.  My husband has been working behind the scenes to bring his nephew here for some time to attend an  American school and improve his English.  School arrangements, Visa applications, passports, etc.

I can’t even get him to do the fucking dishes around here.  Something is clearly misplaced.

And in his usual fashion, he didn’t tell me too much about it until I asked.  “Is HE coming here?  If so, WHEN?” and Hubby waved his hands around as if to distract me as he said “the third? the fourth?”

Hold up, jack.  Of SEPTEMBER?  Because that is next week.

Oh yes.  Of September.  As of Tuesday, September 4, at 4:05 PM I will become Tanti (auntie) and my work and responsibility around this casa will increase a hundred fold.  Seriously. I know how much a 14 year old can eat.  It’s significant.

Then after our conversation this morning, Hubby tried to get out of dressing our own son for preschool.  It went exactly like this:

My foot hurts.

The fuck it does.

He dressed our son and “the fuck…” has become my new standard reply for every single thing he ever tries to get out of again as long as a teenage alien is living in my home.

Ain’t marriage grand?