family – Page 5 – They call me Betty

A letter from the past…

February 15, 2013February 15, 2013 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

1,486 days until 50 years of age.

Recently while rummaging through some old keepsakes I came across a letter. Now while most of us at some time or another have kept letters from old boyfriends or girlfriends, or from our parents while we were away at camp, even notes from friends, this letter was a little different.

Wrapped in a dingy standard, business envelope it was thin, wrinkled and worn. The writing on its face was faded and simple, addressed to me from me. You see it was dated 1984. Mailed from the office of my old high school, a project straight from the bowels of a creative writing class. Premise;write a letter to yourself to be opened when you reach 25. Address it to your parents home to ensure you receive it and be “creative”.

Well being the pretentious Teaching Assistant that I had become, the whole thing seemed stupid and as such the writing was poignant to say the least. The letter was all of a 1/2 page written on wrinkled binder paper and said: Well asshole if you are reading this then good job! You made it to 25, now give yourself a pat on the back for still being alive. Never thought you would make it past 21! You are still a loser. Hope you still have some friends to pester. Loser!

So what does this all have to do with the price of tea in China and most of all my count down towards turning 50?

The letter drew a sad emotional response. Sad that I wasted a perfectly good opportunity to write something pertinent, honest, heartfelt, whimsical or even just plain factual. Yet I threw away that time being a punk to myself. Shorting myself with an alloof flippant attitude towards something that could have captured the feelings of being a teenager in the 80’s. A paragraph, a page, a note, a quotation, anything to show myself and the world development, growth and the ability to change, adapt and overcome life’s challenges and obstacles. To be able to map a path taken between the age of 17 and 25, from 25 to 46 and into the future.

Then I read it again and you know what, strangely that may be exactly what I accomplished. Not eloquently mind you but looking beyond that moronic statement to who I was at 25 its there, you just need to read between the lines. When I was young, I was a know it all, selfish, moody little bitch. To be quite honest if my 46-year-old persona met my 17-year-old moronic self, I do not think we would like each other very much. I would probably kick my own ass! You see back then if we were friends, I was a loud joke cracking fool, if we didn’t know each other I hung back in the corners like a wall flower scared of his own shadow. I was a contradiction of introvert and extrovert all rolled into one. Some days you just never knew who you where going to get. In some ways I am still that way today, with the exception that as an adult hanging back in the corner of the room allows me a few moments to figure out who all the “players” are and how to approach people.

Getting closer to 50 has given me the chance to reflect on my life, where it has been and where it is headed. I see a lot of the same attributes in my oldest teenage son and I am worried for him. He is at a stage where emotions, testosterone and the inability to become outwardly friendly towards new people have paralyzed his ability to cope with strange situations. He is moody and if you are his friend he is the dry witted life of the party, but if he doesn’t know you he clams up and can’t even muster the strength to say a word while he stares at the ground.

Part of me wishes my 17-year-old self could come back to life so he sees there is hope. As his father I want to protect him, but I know he needs to fall on his face to learn how to handle the rough edge of life. Learning from every encounter, mistake, misfortune and success are the building blocks to a foundation that forms our adult existence. I don’t know how to bring out the best in him, I don’t know how to tell him I went through all the same feelings as a kid without him tuning me out as his father telling the tale of walking both ways uphill in the snow barefoot to school.

But most of all I don’t want him someday to become mired in the fact he is closing in on 50 years of age while reading a letter from some 17-year-old asshole known as himself….

My friend Cooper

January 28, 2013 theycallmebetty6 Comments

We met on a warm spring day in 2001, you had just finished running and were full of energy and enthusiasm. The type of excitement held solely for those coming down from a runners high! After introductions it appeared immediately as though we would become friends. I couldn’t help but admire your self-confidence, exuberance and ability to charm those you encountered!

Over time we became closer, long walks in the evening, daily runs, outings with the family. When our eldest son was little and sad, you never balked at an opportunity to cheer him up. Good friends will do that and indeed a good friend you had become. A look, a smile, some funny movement or action and our son would laugh, all at your expense. You never minded, when your work was done you always left with that sly smile upon your face. A look that showed you always knew something we didn’t.

And knew something you certainly did, for you have been alongside our children for the last 12 years. Watching them grow, helping with their life changes, attitudes and emotions. I really don’t know what I would have done without your friendship! Like a rock, steadfast and solid your loyalty never wavered. There are times in life when no matter what you do as a father you just cant seem to get through, but you always could. With a calm demeanor, a listening ear, and a warm embrace it was always you bringing things into perspective for their little minds.

So what am I to do now? How do I fill this void you left behind? You have gone and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. You left us all with broken hearts and endless tears. Not for the way you left, or even the fact you had to go, but for our own selfishness. Our own emotional fulfilment. The need to feel your love and to give that love in return. Did I show you enough affection, did I tell you I loved you enough times? I will have to assume yes, as I will never know the true answer.

Yesterday at 7:30pm you took your last breath, heaved your very last sigh, relieving yourself of all the pain you had been carrying inside. You body could no longer handle an enlarged liver, your kidneys ached under the strain and your legs had finally given to the pressure. We couldn’t bear watching you suffer anymore as one step meant seeing you buckle under the strain. You were my wifes dear friend and companion, you were a wonderful friend to our children, and you were my friend. You stood proudly by my side through thick and thin, in the sun and even the rain. Camping trips, fishing, daily outings, hikes, bike rides, you participated in them all. Always a smile on your face! You were amazing!

The day we met, my then girlfriend (future wife) had been running with you, you were her young, handsome little pup. Over the years you became one of the most important parts of our growing family, no longer the sole dog, loved by one, but the much-loved, valued member of 4, then 5, and eventually 6 of us. You have slept upon beds of the frieghtened, laid on feet of the cold, awakened us when something just didn’t seem right outside, and even chased off a coyote looking to enter our backyard. Every Sunday we just knew you were going to catch one of the many Balloons filled with wine country tourists traveling over our house. If you couldn’t catch a balloon, you dang sure were going to chase it away! You took credit for every one that passed over head and out of view. There was a time when your speed matched that of the Jack rabbit, catching one only to let it go! Their wasnt a tire on our property that didn’t bear a marking from your superb aim. When we moved to the ranch you took other dogs under your wing and showed them the way. Blitz misses you now, proof as he laid in your spot last night and would not get up for me this morning.

There are those that say “he was just a dog” but not to us, you were family. It started the day my wife took you in, trained you and made you her very own. Smothering you in the very same love so easily given back to those you accepted into your life. As her family grew, your family grew and it never ended as day after day we always found a way to love you more.

We all miss you Cooper. You are a symbol of our family. I wish I could bring you back for one last hug but I can’t, it was hard seeing you go, it was even harder burying you under the old tree by the pond last night. I wrapped you neatly in one of your favorite comforters and placed you gently upon your pillow. A prayer was said and I cried laying the first bucket of dirt upon you. I hope you like the place we picked, it has a full view of the valley, all the jack rabbits and coyotes but most of all those damn balloons as they pass by every Sunday morning.

May you rest in peace, you were a GREAT dog, the fields of heaven are open just for you. Your work here is done, and for that we love you and thank you….

Cooper

1999-2013

What horses taught me..

December 23, 2012December 23, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

What horses taught me about myself and raising children?

Horses have always at one time or another been a part of my life. During a very long period I did my best to refuse any knowledge of their existence. Carefully placing walls up around my feelings, hoping to keep them hidden for eternity. When people would broach the subject, my lips were sealed, if someone in the room asked: have you ever owned horses? My moral character would never allow me to lie in regards to the subject, but my explanation was usually short and sweet;

My parents owned horses; I was raised on a working horse ranch complete with 15 stall barn, paddocks, hot walker, roping arena and cattle chutes. We had a trainer for a while and the business always seemed to be the root of my parents quarreling. Dad was the president of a local horseman’s association and although at the time horses were not my favorite animals, some of my fondest memories were hanging out at horse shows, eating hamburgers and playing under the grandstands. The monthly meetings were also on my fond memories list. The people my parents associated with were all wonderful and cared about everyone’s kids! We sat at the bar, drank 7-up with cherries in them and overlooked the valley below. Can I ride a horse? Yes. Do I want horses? No! End of discussion.

What I never realized until just recently was raising horses as a child set me up for success as an adult. Learning to care for these creatures on a daily basis was actually the first step in learning to care for myself and others. I know it sounds crazy but it also allowed me the opportunity to fail miserably without actually harming anyone, as my parents were right there to chastise, redirect and place me back on the proper course with each and every animal regardless of how much I bucked the system. Horses are very forgiving animals, if you are late feeding them they won’t complain, missed cleaning their stall that afternoon, not a word said, didn’t get to riding them, they will let you know the first couple of minutes in the arena but it’s nothing a little re-direction won’t fix and after a pet or two on the head all is right with the world.

So how did horses re-enter my life and what does it have to do with raising children?

Married with children; horses re-entered my life under the guise of being for the children. I was pulled back into the equine world kicking and screaming by a wife wise beyond her years when it came to dealing with my absolute stubbornness. As I ranted and raved about reliving my parents quarreling over money and animals, as I clenched my fists and retorted with barbs about horses being the devil and all who possess them are crazy! My wife calmly reminded me it wasn’t about me, it wasn’t about the anger I harbored towards an existence that was a lifetime ago brought about by a mind not fully developed but mired in the process of youth. I regaled the horror of taking care of animals and how I didn’t want my children hurt, trampled, kicked, bit or thrown from these four legged beasts. My wife would remind me our children were already taking care of animal projects for 4-H and this was just an extension of those duties. Before long my grip on the past loosened, the mental walls were knocked down and we became horse owners. My children began riding, my wife began riding, I returned to the saddle and our future in the horse world was set on a collision course with my past.

Today; all of my children ride horses, one not as much as the other three but he enjoys cleaning stalls and helping out when he can. Our children are not left to sit on the sidelines as we were all those years ago.

They ride and they ride fairly well; they make mistakes, learn from those mistakes and look forward to every chance they get to “show” their horses. Do I expect them to win? No! Am I proud of them whether they do well or not? Yes! It will be some of the very best memories ever retained and upon my death bed, as my eyes begin to close and darkness overtakes me I hope to picture these children of mine smiling having fun, still small able to fit in my arms, full of love for their animals and their father.

I ride a cutting horse; as my parents rode in shows, I too am in the ring doing my best. We belong to an association and I became a board member. Cutting is always on my mind! How to become better, how to make my horse better, how to just relax and get the hell out of my horses way because she actually knows what she’s doing and on several occasions really just doesn’t need my help. Either way I am obsessed and cannot wait until the show season starts again.

My wife rides any horse she can get her hands on. The challenge of a new horse along with the exhilaration that comes from an unknown is always on her mind. Her personal horse is a gigantic Belgian draft who is sweet and believes to be a puppy dog. She follows you around everywhere, wanting to do everything to make you proud of her. She loves being pet, brushed and ridden, we couldn’t have asked for a better animal for our family. We have made friends with some very wonderful people through this process, friends I believe we will have for life. These fantastic people are of the very same character surrounding me as a child. My children are reaping the benefits.

We have many horses; we board a few horses, and have built up a very nice place for our children to be raised and their friends to come play. Nothing brings a greater joy to my wife and I then introducing a child to the joys of riding horses!

With time/age comes wisdom and with that wisdom comes the uncontrollable urge to share. So here are ten things horses have taught me about myself and raising children.

Frustration manifests into anger and there is no place for either when training a horse or raising a child.
Forgiveness is felt and received by both children and horses. If you show forgiveness, you teach forgiveness. Then forgiveness is shown in return.
Trust is earned. You may not think you need to earn trust with your children but you would be dead wrong. The same goes for a horse. If a horse doesn’t trust you, your relationship is dead in the water.
Having the ability to express love is one of the most important attributes human beings hold. Show that love in every aspect of what you do.
Discipline must be fair, just and repeated the same each and every time. Then it should be followed by number 4, thus reaffirming your commitment.
Talking will always calm their nerves. A nervous animal can be dangerous, so can quite a few children I have known over the years. Talking with them, showing interest and care usually will bring nervousness to an end allowing them both to build a confidence that will expand with age.
What you put in their bodies will equate to what you receive in performance. If you expect your horses to perform, feed them well. If you expect your children to perform well, both educationally and athletically, make sure they have nutritious food at their disposal.
Give them a warm safe place to call home. Everyone, even animals need a safe place to call home. It builds security and confidence, and grounds both animals and humans alike.
When children or horses make a mistake. Forgive them, correct them and allow them the opportunity to get it right. We all make mistakes; treating either one as though you are perfect all the time will eventually lead you down a path of failure.
Keep them clean and groomed. It sounds silly but as your child feels good about a new outfit for school, so does your horse feel about being clean, brushed and prepared for a day of being worked or ridden on the trail. It’s in our make up to always want to look good. You always notice that gorgeous stallion with the long flowing mane and tail, so does a mare. You also always notice the kid you took the time and effort to dress appropriately. Make that your kid and your horse.

As you can see my life has come full circle. My children take care of animals, feeding, watering, riding, and showing them love. It’s not always done right, but they try, we redirect and success is always on the horizon. The lessons of my childhood, expanded upon and being re-taught to my unsuspecting little sponges! Hopefully when they are grown adults our children will continue to expand upon these lessons and not place them in a closet of emotion wasting years on anger that could have been used to further enjoy a platform we have provided them for life.

A snowball effect….

December 23, 2012December 23, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

The other night after a long day of he said, she said, don’t touch me, and leave me alone along with all the other phrases (both appropriate and inappropriate) reverberating through an active family household. I found myself stressed beyond belief. My chest hurt, the lungs yearned for air, a mildly cold sweat lay across my brow and my stomach hurt. The only thing I could ponder was how much longer until they all were grown.

Of course I have no room to complain because there are the 48 hours straight I am at work, holed up in my firehouse the last bastion of supposed sanity from the trials and tribulations of being a full-time parent! My poor wife does not enjoy such luxury. But then again aren’t all us firefighters really just kids with badges and super cool toys we use to help the public? Anyways that night had taken quite the toll on both my wife and I. All we could think about was the peace and quiet that came with bedtime. Then something wonderful happened that brought me back to reality.

We baked cookies…

Yep that’s right its Christmas time and nothing says “I care about you” more than fresh-baked cookies! It really is the best Christmas present ever! I would personally take 20 tins of delicious cookies from loved ones over someone spending money on something they hope I will like! Cookies, chocolate, brownies, mince pies they all say “hey buddy its Christmas and I was baked just for you” enjoy! But these cookies, oh these cookies are super special! Every year we bake these little doughy droplets of gold and place them in specially purchased Christmas tins then set out across town “ to snowball”.

Definition: To Snowball; During Christmas time only, place a tin of cookies with an anonymous uplifting note on the front porch of an unsuspecting family. Ring doorbell, knock loudly on door and run!!!

Snowball has become a very special part of our Christmas traditions! The children look forward to it every year almost as much as Christmas morning itself! Snowball is treated like a covert mission, complete with blacked out car, dark clothing and squealing tires. Giggling is inevitable as mishaps are also a part of the fun. Falling over hedges, tripping before reaching the car, only to be grabbed by an older brother and pulled in as the car rips away from the scene! No man left behind is our motto! On one occasion one of the boys had to hide under a hedge just feet from the front door as it was opened by the homeowner before a full retreat was completed! It’s just plain, good old-fashioned Christmas fun! We hand out yummy goodies; hopefully make someone’s night with no expectation of reciprocation. Then hope it leaves a snowball effect on its recipients, passing good cheer forward for the holidays. This is the way we enjoy observing Christmas, it truly feels better to give than receive!!

As we are preparing for our night of Christmas ninja stealth, the children all do something unheard of lately. They begin to get along, working together as one to complete this monumental task. My wife and I step back out of the kitchen and even though the urge to take over and correct small mistakes is astronomical we don’t. She moves into the family room to watch TV, and I hover around the front room tending the fire and staring in awe. My oldest works like a baker, carefully tossing out flour, and rolling the dough out to perfection while the others take turns cutting out cookies made of angels, snowmen, stars and mistletoe. The middle boy handles placing them carefully on cookie sheets and transfers them back and forth from the oven only asking that I place them inside while removing the cooked ones. It was seriously the happiest, stress less, most magical moment I’ve had around our children in a while. It truly made our night. My wife iced them with green and white frosting then placed them carefully into round Christmas covered containers. She wrote another fantastic letter and we all called it a night with smiles upon our egg-nog covered faces.

One simple act of doing for others as a family can erase hours of selfish bickering. I am often reminded of a very simple saying; you only have one childhood with your children. Enjoy it!

When things get stressful, bake some cookies together and let them be children. All will look better in the end and your stress will subside. I promise…..

Merry Christmas!

Santa Claus or am I really baby Jesus?

December 17, 2012December 17, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

Ah the tinsel, the lights, Christmas music flowing from every car, coffee shop and grocery store around; People buzzing about trying to find the perfect gift for that special someone. The season is here, like it or not, we are enveloped in the Christmas season, may joy and laughter fill the air.

Sooooo on the topic of gifts let’s just take a moment to recognize the main man by saying thank you baby Jesus, cute little baby Jesus all cuddly and snuggly in his precious little wool wrap, perfect in his Jesus like way. For if wasn’t for your birth on that magical manger morning sire, three wise men/kings wouldn’t have traveled from afar (really afar?) to bestow three (Super Lotto of the period) wonderful gifts of Gold, Muir and Frankincense! Whew, HELLLLOOOOO; can you say JACKPOT!!!! Cha-Ching!!

What’s that my little snow angels? Santa is the sole reason we receive gifts on Christmas you say? Not the baby Jesus you say! Well my misguided little peppermint elves how wrong you are! The jolly red man wasn’t always jolly and he certainly wasn’t always fat! He was a man like any other, only he did what any good christian would do, stole the concept from religions much cherished three wise men! Seeing a definite need (oh yes his heart was in the right place) he practiced giving (gifts, shoes, dowry’s, food etc..) for a while selling the image of nobility to the masses. Eventually he was sainted and became forever known as St. Nicholas! Flash forward 1,669 years, St. Nicholas’ image has passed from generation to generation evolving into the much celebrated fat man in a red costume, driving a sleigh pulled by eight tiny reindeer! No really they are tiny! You would think they were huge with all those gifts and all but really they are tiny!

Upon seeing positive results within multiple test markets (Poland, Turkey, the Netherlands) the idea of a St. Nick or Santa Claus was marketed to the right folks, obtaining copy writes to his likeness and catchphrases then sold, sold, sold and sold again slowly evolving into the much celebrated fat man in a red costume, atop a shiny red sleigh! Happy picture huh?

Wrong sleigh… or not?

There we go that’s better….

Not being the greatest of mathematicians, I took it upon myself using the internet, ABC NEWS, and a few simple formulas to help me determine the sleigh was obviously developed by aliens or possibly held in captivity at Area 51 until our government could extract the compounds used to make this bitch fly! You see, Santa’s sleigh needs to travel 175 million miles in just under 31 hours (time/Dateline, staying under the cover of darkness and all), Santa himself needs to visit 1,178 homes per second-every second of those 31 hours. That means when the “big” man arrives he has just 8/100,000ths of a second to park the sleigh, shimmy down the chimney, stuff the stockings, eat (what is hopefully delicious) cookies, drink milk, shimmy back up the chimney, get his parking slip validated, tip the valet and go! Husain Bolt I think you have a second career waiting for you when this whole world’s fastest Olympian runner thing doesn’t quite pan out anymore!

How about the gross weight of the sleigh? I mean a rig like that needs to be agile and light! Made from the finest carbon fiber money can buy right? Someone must know the overall gross weight of this vehicle at the very least possibly California does since knowing means billing for registration and new registration leads to another source of revenue. Well don’t let the snowflakes melt from your cap just yet! Yes there is a calculation for this as well! Let’s say every child receives one two-pound toy,(hahahahahahaha one toy, that’s a joke) multiply that by 330 million children under the ripe old age of 18. That’s 660 million pounds of toys! No wonder Rudolph’s nose is red! The lad needs to drink like a union dock worker after moving that much weight in one night! Wonder if Rudolph receives kickbacks to pad his stable when bags of toys mysteriously fall off the sleigh while flying over New Jersey? Aye yo Vinnie that damn reindeer dropped us another load! Youz better have is cut ready or your kids won’t be seeing any evidence of the Fatman on Christmas morning!

So there, the baby Jesus is the reason we have Christmas! The Santa story is absolutely charming and I truly don’t mind playing the big guy every Christmas morning! The straight up fact is it brings endless joy to all the little boys and girls across this wondrous globe of ours. With or without the help of Macy’s, Target and Wal-Mart. But doesn’t someone think maybe lying to our children about a fictitious person, from a make-believe place, who brings toys and gifts to all the “good” little boys and girls after making a list (segregation) and checking it twice might really be sending a bad message? Plus how do you explain the whole “he sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake” bit? Sound like someone needs to be registered on the Meagan’s law web-site! Creeper!

I have decided since I receive gifts on Christmas morning I need to work on tricking my children into believing I am the baby Jesus instead! Pretty sure I can pull of the three wise men part with a little help from my friends. Someone know where I can get some Frankincense? Maybe three camels????

is Santa a Lady?

December 7, 2012December 7, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

is Santa a Lady?.

via is Santa a Lady?.

Is Santa a lady??? I have often pondered this very question! I mean the organizational skills alone are mind numbing! There is not a man alive that can hold a candle to Santa when it comes to logistics. Yet there are several ladies I know who could handle it quite well, all while still holding a second career, writing a thesis for their Masters degree and schooling their children on homework! Could it possibly be the woman in red is standing behind the man running everything quietly, out of the spotlight, using the “its a mans world” theory to sell the notion of masculinity when it comes to delivering toys to all the good little girls and boys??? HHHMMMMM???

Anyways that is my question but please check out this blog (click on “is Santa a lady?”link above) as I found it to be quite humorous. Then ask yourself, could the man in red, really be the woman in red? Or is it a front?

DR. FRO-YO is in….

December 6, 2012December 6, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

As a parent my world revolves around our children. They bring to our lives purpose and a fulfillment that just can’t be achieved by denying their existence. No really you can deny they’re yours all you want but try leaving Chucky Cheese unnoticed when one of them yells; Hey dad where ya going? That damn family hand stamp you received when you arrived ties you right back to the little darlings! Anyways I only tried it once, no harm no foul right?

Yep those little ones fill our days with delight! From the moment their sweet little angelic eyes open in the morning, birds begin to sing! They’ll float down to breakfast as if Miss Mary Poppins herself was their nanny! Poise, confidence, smarts they are perfect and all yours. Every day is greeted with excitement because you’re able to cherish hundreds of precious moments with these wondrous gifts from god!

Often times in the morning I am heard across the neighborhood hollering out our back door as they skip off to school, backpacks in hand, looking sharp dressed in their finest knickers; Have a great day children and remember daddy loves yoouuuu!! They always stop, hold hands and in unison shout: We love you to daddy!!!! Sweet visualization huh?

Parenting is a calling, you don’t realize how important it is until it happens to you! Becoming a parent brings together all the unknowns about your existence, solidifying them in one complete, mind altering, unrelenting realization.

At some point you are going to need a drink!

Because after that Disney fantasy world of morning departure, as the door closes and you’re left all alone with nothing but your thoughts, life becomes very clear. You may need a drink! It starts out harmless enough; the house is yours so you figure knocking out a few chores such as laundry sounds like a good idea. I mean you are the maid right? So you grab a cup of coffee, haul a few hampers, wash a few loads it all sounds so easy? But oh no my friend how wrong you are because it’s then and only then you see the light! For example, apparently all four of my children were performing on America’s got talent last night! How do I know? Because every single one of them went through at least three wardrobe changes yesterday leaving two of them scattered across the bathroom, bedroom and hallway floors! Only someone who performs on stage needs that many wardrobe changes to get through the day right? The laundry basket is filled with an equal amount of clothing exchanges from the previous three days as well and by the time it has been transferred to the basement it appears the bottom of the basket is filled with clothes I washed and folded on Friday of last week! Those clothes now smell awful because apparently the littlest one peed the bed and has thrown the urine soaked clothing on top of the aforementioned clean clothes! Feeling the need yet?

Did I mention the bathroom? Between cleaning up piss scattered about the base of the toilet and poop that has made its way miraculously down the side of the bowl. (Serious skill or a disturbing problem) There is an endless river of shampoo and body gel making its way around every part of our bathroom except (judging by quantity only) onto the filthy bodies of my pristine little gems! Thirsty for a snort?

As I feel happiness slowly draining from my body like the last remaining droplets of coffee from the pot downstairs, I decide grabbing some chocolate will harden my resolve and strengthen my nerves. One problem, it’s all gone! I don’t know when or where but it’s gone all gone! Hands shaking, teeth grinding, creating new curse words, the laundry is dragged to the basement and tossed into the machine, our bathrooms are cleaned to perfection, the floor is swept, mopped and left to dry while I burn time folding clothes. I call it “burning” time because it’s not what I want to do it’s what I have to do so I prefer to burn it with my hatred!! After an hour I start missing my children again (I know freaking crazy huh?). The bottle on the counter doesn’t seem quite as tempting anymore, yet Jack is always a gentlemen and he remains smooth as silk in his delivery.

The day trots’ on with more highs and lows; high when I find a bedroom closet cleaned, low when I find all my missing chocolate wrappers under a bed, high when finding a note left behind by one of them saying how much they love me, low when realizing all the words are spelled backwards, leaving me worrying about his education! High while realizing they are all taking fairly good care of their animals a very big responsibility, low when reaching into a box of Hot Pockets to find it has been placed back into the freezer empty! AARRRGGGHHHHH! Getting thirsty again…

By the time our children are let out of school my emotions have traveled a gambit of expressions and yet even though exhaustion is ruling my body, and sleep would be a welcome sight even for just a few minutes, I pull my boot straps up, put on a smile and rush off to gather them for the return ride home. A trip into town takes but 15 minutes, just enough time to sing a few songs on the radio, down a beer and let the Percocet take hold! Just kidding!!! Don’t get uptight now my belligerent story has almost concluded!

While waiting in the hallways I take note of many other children, some are sweet as pie, others in need of a good old-fashioned ————-! (You fill in the blank! Really anything you want! Time out, walk in the park, smack on the tush, trophy for being the most obnoxious, whatever works for you! This is the kinder gentler, stranger society we occupy so live it up!)

My conclusion is this; our children will always be sweet little angels, the stuff Disney movies are made of, no matter what anyone else says! They could do whatever they wanted and dad would stand behind them all the way! Ok except for getting arrested and maybe starting a fight, yeah that’s never good, also selling drugs would be a hard one to back all the way unless junior is gonna hook a father up with some sweet green!

I digress…. So my children walk up, hugs are given and no longer do I feel the stress of a long day! Life is ok; all is right with the world. We climb into the truck and before we leave the parking lot three of them are fighting in the back seat, one is crying two are punching each other all while words such as butthead and fart face are thrown about as frequently as a bug hitting the windshield! So with the calmness of a school librarian (they still have those don’t they?) the truck is turned north, our home is no longer an approved destination for I have determined they (our children)are feeling the very same stresses I feel day after day. Their stress revolves around working hard, strengthening the farthest reaches of their little brains during a long day of school! So it would make sense for them to release stress exactly the same way dad does, through spastic, angered verbal retaliation. Of course mine is directed at no one because I am usually home alone. A feeling of daily stress that just can’t be contained from sitting in ones room for being grumpy. Since children can’t drink (not legally anyways) it’s on to the next best thing! Pulling into the Frozen yogurt shop a hearty FRO-YO chant bellows comes from the back seat, sharing the very same exuberance a dock worker feels when his ride home at the end of a long day stops at the local pub for a pint… or two….

Everyone pours out of the truck, piles into the store, flavors are picked, toppings are served and we take our little pint-sized treasures out to the tables in the shade. Not a word is spoken, peace and harmony exists, the only sounds to be heard are that of; thanks dad and mmmmmmmmmm! Ok except for my littlest who between spoonfuls is conducting an imaginary orchestra with his spoon! Holy cow people are staring at him….. Cooollll…… Climbing back into the truck all is right with the world. They have de-stressed, genuine conversation is at the forefront of our ride home. We are a communicating caring family once again! All because of a little sweet FRO-YO.

At home they are playing joyfully in the backyard. Chores completed with smiles and homework finished. I pray they have the ability to stay in Disney/Happiest place in the world mode a little while longer; I’d like their mother to enjoy some of this FRO-YO high as well?

Now where did I put my old friend Jack?

(this story is sarcasm based, no alcohol, children, parents or animals were harmed in the telling of this story)

My Words of Wisdom for the Day

December 6, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

On a daily basis life’s constraints have an ability to get in the way when you least expect it, but when it comes to being there for your children do your best to never miss an opportunity.
Just saying..
Carry on that is all….

Somewhere in the Halls of Justice…..

November 30, 2012November 30, 2012 theycallmebetty1 Comment

A tub of chocolate chip cookie dough has been discovered open. Now this is no giant revelation in the grand scheme of things around Betty’s house, but this time is a bit different. You see lately there has been a sudden rash of midnight food thefts. Of course one might wonder if it’s the result of us starving our children to the point of emaciation? After all they are always screaming about how they are starving, there is nothing to eat, they are dying! Hypochondriacs! Maybe it’s because our food stamps ran out this month after I traded them for cash to a local street entrepreneur so I could score some vodka and cigarettes? Don’t judge me a guys got to do what a guys got to do right?

But sadly no, Betty and spouse have stocked the home quite well with food for all. Three squares a day and all the snacks one could handle. Not even the prison commissary has more crap than Betty’s Basement for snacking and munching. But what makes this crime of chocolate chip passion so incredulous is the fact we have been mired in a swamp of lying lately. Several attempts have been made through modern-day practices to arrive at the truth, trick questioning, good parent bad parent role play, single chair in the room hot spot light grilling, even a little military action has been used, but alas the waterboarding failed miserably. Thank God for AFLAC! Yet no matter what we tried the famed culprit “Mr. I don’t know” is usually to blame! What to do, what to do??

On this particular occasion while staring at the evidence a moment of brilliance overcame me! Sheer genius really as too many nights of late night crime TV took over, guiding me through a fair and just investigation.

Calmly calling the main accused subject to the front of the room I leaned down and gave the suspect every opportunity to answer me truthfully the first time. Each time I asked, the suspect stood their ground claiming no knowledge of a crime committed. Finally I held the subjects hand, slowly pulling the forefinger out straight.

Once the hand was firmly in my grasp over the bucket of sugary goodness with the forefinger pointed out straight I said; (Law and Order moment here) My dear, this bucket of chocolate chip cookie dough has been picked out by a single solitary finger. The great thing about fingers is no two are the same. Therefore if I place this finger inside this bucket will it match the marks made by the thief? She calmly stated no, stood her ground while beginning to look very confused.

Slowly lowering her hand I said; this is your last chance. Her brow furrowed, her resolve was set. Down went the hand and behold the finger mark was a perfect fit!

Now one could point the opposed bony finger of justice at the accused and scream GUILTY! But that’s not how Betty rolls. In a smooth almost sweet voice I asked the accused to step back, explained it was a perfect fit but in the interest of justice we would call in the other accused suspect to appear before our Kangaroo court. The call was made and suspect number two was brought downstairs and placed in front of suspect number one. Now suspect number two doesn’t have quite the moxy suspect number one carries. So there was an instant look of guilt upon his reddening cheeks. He tried his best poker face with a loud; whats up dad? (insert nervous laughter here)

The same investigative speech was provided for suspect number two and when he recognized the significance of important scientific data such as “no two fingers leaving the same mark in cookie dough” the confession spewed forth like that of man carrying heavy guilt for some time! No splayed out finger, no hand-held over the tub, no look of shame needed! Just the fear of scientific data, fact, serious CSI shit, to break his silence and expose a true culprit. The crime had been solved or so it seemed, but as with any criminal facing significant prison time this young lad was no different from any other! He started singing and he sang like a freaking canary, throwing suspect number one under the bus in the process. Hearing the overwhelming load of evidence thrown her way she lowered her shoulders and confessed to it all. The facts of the case had been revealed, two culprits one definitive finger match and all with a little knowledge learned from watching to many Law and Order episodes late at night.

The investigating officers report read as such:

On the night of 25 November 2012, One 8-year-old female suspect made her way into the family’s basement, avoiding detection from the parental units through stealth measures developed over an unspecified period of time. The female suspect finding the Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough tub in the main downstairs refrigerator carefull removed a tool from the adjoining refrigerator intentionally piercing the cellophane cover, exposing the dough goodness held inside. Using her fingers many samples were had/stolen until the sounds of people moving her direction stopped her from enjoying more of the holiday treat. She retreated through the shadows into her room retiring for the night. Sometime later in the evening suspect number two seeing the lid had in fact been opened and fully knowing who the main culprit may have been felt as though the perfect crime would be committed by helping himself to the same sugary goodness then leave suspect number one taking the fall for the crime. A thorough investigation was held, both suspects were apprehended and suitable punishments were doled out through the use of plea bargaining.

Case closed.

Now if only I can use this late night psychological shit to figure out who is stealing my underwear and socks….

My Words of Wisdom for the Day.

November 13, 2012November 13, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

When opening ones mouth to insert ones foot. Shoe size in no way changes the outcome, or the taste. Just saying..
Carry on that is all…

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: