Mom and Dad wanted to say something

A bit of dialog from the first evening with my mom and dad after they've returned from their North Carolina home:

Mom: Beth? You know how you write about things you don't like? Well I want you to write about something. I want you to write about shampoo bottles. Why don't they write it really big on the bottle? I want it to say SHAMPOO in really BIG letters!

Me: So you don't wash your hair with conditioner?

Mom: YES!

Dad: No, you know what you should write about? How hard it is to find cranberry juice. Just plain cranberry juice. I ended up getting some blend of three different juices. At least it was all juice.

I'm so glad my mom and dad are home again. I missed them so much. :)

So much more than just praying hands

When I was a little girl I spent a relatively decent amount of time at my Grandma and Granddaddy's house. My Granddaddy was one of my favorite people in the whole world. He was always happy to see me and always had time for me. Even though he had 10 other grandchildren to love, whenever I was with him I felt like I was his whole world.

Granddaddy, much like my own dad, was a big story-teller. Being Catholic, my grandparents had a little statue of praying hands sitting on a side table in their living room.

I didn't know they were praying hands. I didn't know much about them at all, actually, so one day while Granddaddy sat peeling potatoes at the dining room table I asked him what that statue was.

Granddaddy smiled and told me a story of two brothers. The two brothers came to this country, poor as could be. They came here on a boat from a country far away and their dream was to make it in America.

Those brothers struggled at first. They were poor, hungry, and looking for work. They had no place to live and were dirty and slept out in the cold. In time, they both found jobs and worked hard to make something of themselves. They helped each other and before long, they both had successful businesses and homes that were warm and clean. They each got married to beautiful girls and had children who became great people.

In the end of the story those two brothers were so proud of themselves that they gave each other a high five. And that's what that statue was, their high five.

When Granddaddy died I was barely 9 years old and he was the first person I had ever known to die. It was unbelievable to me that he was gone forever. No more trips to Cumberland Farms to pick out ice cream from the cold case, no more being thrown on the bed over and over again until poor Granddaddy was exhausted but still did it "one more time" just to make me laugh, no more sitting in his lap as he watched one football game on the television and had another on the radio, no more of his stories, smiles, or laughter.

I remember so clearly my dad telling me that Granddaddy had died. We were sitting in my mom and dad's bedroom and I stared at him blankly and said "Okay" and left the room.

I went into my sister's old bedroom, which had been turned into a guest bedroom at the time and I sat on the bed with my back to the door and stared out the window. My mom came in and said "Honey, it's okay to cry."

But I couldn't cry. I couldn't even fathom it being a reality that he was gone.

Days later, after the funeral, my Grandma sat me down and gave me those hands. "Granddaddy wanted you to have these."

It was then that I cried.

I still have those hands, over 28 years later. They went with me to multiple apartments in college, home again, to my first home, and now to our home here. And every time I look at them I smile and remember his story.

The Spaz checks the calendar a few times and freaks the hell out

Last night as I was letting the dog out for his before bed pee, I looked upon our 4 bedroom, 2 bath ranch house with the minivan parked in the driveway and thought to myself "Holy crap, I'm a grown-up."

It's true. I really can't deny the fact that by my age I should be a grown-up. The odd thing is that I don't really feel any older than I did 10 years ago. I honestly just feel dumber and more frazzled.

Because it's true what they say about the older you get, the more you realize you don't know. 10 years ago I thought I had it all figured out. But the last decade has gone by so fast I feel like I should be nauseous from the ride.

I don't have a damn thing figured out.

In just a few months I'll be turning 35. I had to count back to make sure that was right, because it doesn't seem like it should be. 35 sounds like someone who should be accomplished, know where she's going, have a plan, a retirement fund, and an expensive watch.

Not I, my friend. Not I.

I'm nervous that the last 10 years have gone by so quickly, that the next 10 years might sneak by even faster and I could quite possibly still be sitting here with no accomplishments (besides the fact that I will then have raised three children to adulthood, hopefully with at least some mild success), have no idea where I'm going, no plan, no retirement fund, and most importantly, no expensive watch.

35 years old, y'all. What the hell?

The Spaz speaks out for moms EVERYWHERE!

From: Domestic Spaz (beth@domesticspaz.com)
To: info@draftfcb.com
Subject: Windex Commercials - here's a FREE advertising pitch from a real mom

Message:

To Whomever Decided It Was A Good Idea To Show A Mom Cleaning Up After Her Entire Family:

I'm a real mom of three kids in a messy house. I buy Windex. Never once has picking up a spray bottle of Windex Multi Surface ever caused time to stop so that I could merrily go around cleaning up all of the messes my family makes before they even hit the ground. In fact, the idea that it's the mom's job to clean up all the messes in the house is so overdone and irritating that it has caused mothers from around the country to convene on facebook and discuss how irritated we are with your ridiculous commercial.

And really? A commercial where a lazy ass man sleeps in a lounge chair while his wife washes the windows? Who runs this ad agency? Mr. Cleaver?

When y'all decide to run a commercial where those irritating birds look through the window to see a 15 year old kid saying "I use Windex Multi Surface cleaner to clean up all the sticky and nasty messes my self-entitled and irresponsible ass makes in the house that my mom and dad work their tails off to pay for. I love using it so much I think I'll clean up the rest of the house and still have time to do my homework and empty the dishwasher!"... well THAT'S when I and mothers across America just like me will be flocking to the stores to buy your products.

Sincerely,
Beth Hubbard
aka Domestic Spaz






PS: Upon further research, I discovered that DraftFCB no longer holds the SCJohnson (the makers of Windex) account. Ogilvy & Mather currently holds the Windex account. Perhaps their ads will be less misogynistic. :)

Are you listening to Ego Leonard?

In this house, we tune into all things that have anything to do with LEGOs. Our house is LEGO aplenty. Goober loves his LEGOs like I love a nice chardonnay and a hot bubble bath. They're his happy place.

So when I heard that an 8 foot LEGO man washed ashore in Siesta Key, I had to check into it.

What I found was a website for Ego Leonard.  I absolutely can't wait to share him with Goober when he gets home from school today. 

I would like to introduce myself:


My name is Ego Leonard and according to you I come from the virtual world. A world that for me represents happiness, solidarity, all green and blossoming, with no rules or limitations.


Lately however, my world has been flooded with fortune-hunters and people drunk with power. And many new encounters in the virtual world have triggered my curiosity about your way of life.


I am here to discover and learn about your world and thoughts.


Show me all the beautiful things that are there to admire and experience in your world. Let’s become friends, share your story with me, take me with you on a journey through beautiful meadows, words, sounds and gestures.

And all I can think is... Ego Leonard knows what's up. Ego Leonard has the right idea. Ego Leonard is awesome.

We all have a lot to learn from Ego Leonard. As far as I can tell, thank you Google, Ego Leonard was created by artists. Possibly these artists? Or maybe these artists?

Or maybe some other ones? I'm sure the mystery will be solved by someone with more investigative ability than myself. But just as is my opinion on how the heavens and earth came to be, my opinion on how Ego Leonard came to be is that it doesn't really matter. It's more important to figure out what he's trying to tell us. And, in my opinion, Ego Leonard is trying to tell us this:

You're doing it wrong.

Fifth Grade is when the mean girls claws come out...

Today Munchkin and I ran into a local pizza place to grab a few pizzas and there was a girl about Munchkin's age sitting with her mother waiting for their order. The girl said hi to Munchkin twice and Munchkin turned her nose up and solidly ignored her. After the second time I turned to her and said "Aren't you going to say hello?"

Munchkin gave me a look that meant "Be quiet, Mom!"

When we left the restaurant I pressed her further. I was fully anticipating having to admonish her for being rude.

"What was up with that? Why wouldn't you say hi to that little girl?"

"She's MEAN to me at school, Mom. She calls me names. She's a mean girl."

Now, Munchkin is slightly younger than the rest of her class and she may be a little bit immature even for her age. Her birthday is in August so she started kindergarten when she was just barely 5 years old so most of her peers have all had at least a few months on her. When I look back on it, I always think I should have probably kept her in Montessori school for one more year before she started kindergarten, but that's just one more of those parenting decisions I can't change now.

So I think she might be a little more susceptible to bullying from more mature girls. She's in 5th grade now and, let's face it, girls are just learning to be catty and mean at her age. To top it off, Munchkin is sensitive. She doesn't let things roll off her back very well so she's probably a fabulous target for a practicing mean girl looking to get a reaction.

So how do I toughen up my little girl? How do I teach her to ignore those mean girls and understand that everything they say is only to make themselves feel better because they have their own problems with self-esteem? Bullies just really, really suck.

Children are a treasure...

There are some days when having children is a blessing. Days when you get to wake them up from their beds and they're groggy and smell like sleep and they smile at you. Days when you get to teach them something new and watch the wonder in their eyes. Days when you can just relax and watch them happily play at a park, without a care in the world. Days when you watch them accomplish something great and days when you realize you're doing a great job raising them.

Today is not one of those days.

Today is one of the days when I wonder what I was thinking when I allowed myself to get pregnant once, and twice, and thrice.

It begins with the sinus pain brought on by seasonal allergies. Today they were so bad that my teeth hurt from the pressure and I had to just lie down and close out the world. Children don't like to be closed out, though. There were nerf gun fights and Munchkin's ear piercing screams when she got shot in the eye by a nerf dart. Seriously, how do 10 year old girls even make that high pitched of a noise? There were children searching in vain for kittens that didn't want to be found and fighting over them once they were found. But eventually, some twist of fate smiled upon me (it's name was Claritin) and the pressure subsided allowing me to rise from the darkness and attempt to take on parenting again.

After a couple of hours of child neglect, I was confronted with milk filled cereal bowls and general mayhem around the house. Nothing had been done. No homework, no chores, nothing. And when I expressed my discontent, I was greeted with whining and gnashing of teeth. Being a mother is a thankless job.

Bug is overwhelmed with his homework and wants all of us to know all about it. He goes from maniacally throwing papers to the ground in an angry rage, to crying, to just plain ignoring the fact that he even has homework. If one of his siblings gets near him while he's attempting to do it, he threatens their life. I don't really know how to help him and I wonder if it's time to take him to a doctor to prescribe him something. We've cut out almost all preservatives and artificial colors, aside from what he gets at school, but it doesn't seem to have been helping him with his anger issues. The homework will always be hard, but his inability to deal with it in any sort of normal manner is the real problem.

It's always difficult to know how to make the best decisions for your children.

Operation Kitty Liberation Day

Today is Operation Kitty Liberation. Today is the day I set the kittens free. Free to roam about the house, that is.

Since we got Mordecai and Rigby, they've been contained to the Master bedroom and bathroom. They're so little that I've been worried they would get lost somewhere or caught between the cushions of the couch or fall down the crack between the bunk beds and the wall.

With good reason, too. Just last week Rigby got himself lost in the few minutes we let them roam around the house to show them off to my brother-in-law, E. After a good ten minutes of attempting to locate the source of the muffled cries we heard from the general location of our TV viewing area, we realized he had gotten himself trapped inside The Man's theater style chairs.

The Man was on his way home from work at the time and I very much wanted to rescue Rigby before he arrived home as I was sure I would hear crap from him about how the cats were running around and getting into things. E was belly down on the floor attempting to pull Rigby out of a tiny little hollow in the chair by his tiny little paw, when we heard The Man walk in.

"Everybody act natural!" E cried out as The Man walked in and saw his chairs tipped on all sides and the family room torn apart.

It's always an adventure at the Spaz house.

So I wanted to keep them safe in the bedroom where the worst they could do was climb to the top of the closet (and encourage Goober to climb to the top and retrieve them, causing the entire shelf and rod to fall out of the wall... taking bets on how long it will take for that to be repaired), but when I settled in for a nice bubble bath the other night and found tiny little flecks of kitty litter suspended in my cucumber-melon scented bubbles, I decided it was time for the kittens to explore the rest of their natural habitat.

So far they're enjoying the space to roam. They're chitter-chattering at the birds outside through the windows, taking Superman sized leaps and bounds from one flat surface to another, and enjoying the giant expanses of open space to run maniacally from one end of the house to the other.

I see broken glass and spilled liquids in my future.

Just wait til Britney's 15 years old and rebels because she never got a french fry like all the other kids...

If you're a mom, like me, and you watch any sort of television that is geared toward moms, you've probably seen this commercial for PediaSure SideKicks:

When the commercial first came out, I was immediately angry at that condescending bitch of a brunette soccer mom with her condescending arm touch at the poor blonde mom. Blonde mom was probably running herself ragged and had no time for anything other than a happy meal to feed her sweet Tyler before soccer practice. In fact, I bet there's a half eaten cheeseburger in the 3rd row of blonde mom's minivan along with a few random french fries right now.

And brunette mom thinks she's so high and mighty because she elected to feed her darling Britney this processed sugar milk drink instead.

Britney's nice soccer moves aren't because she drank Pediasure, brunette mom, they're just because she lives in constant fear of disappointing you with your unreasonable expectations.

The second ingredient in that junk is SUGAR, along with several ingredients I can't pronounce, artificial flavors, and something called FRUCTOOLIGOSACCHARIDES (wtf is that??). Something tells me the protein in a cheeseburger and fries is probably a lot more beneficial than that sugar water. So take that, brunette mom.

Ups and Downs and All Arounds

The Spaz is back!

I'm alive and well and so is the rest of the Spaz clan. Life is busy around here and when life gets busy I don't seem to have any blog worthy thoughts. I guess when I'm trying to keep up with the day to day, I don't spend a lot of time pondering the life, universe, and everything so the blog suffers.

In the past couple of months we've taken a trip to North Carolina, kicked around the idea of moving there and then decided to shelve the idea for the foreseeable future. It's beautiful up there and the idea of raising the kids in a small town environment is definitely appealing, but for right now we think it's best to stay put.

Though, when we returned home to find that we needed to drill a new well, fix our air conditioner, and replace our stove, I almost got back into the minivan, pointed it north, and refused to come back. A nice, new house in the gorgeous Great Smokey Mountains sure beats a messy, hot, and humid one with no running water in the middle of hurricane season in South Florida.

But responsibility won out and we got to work fixing the home owners nightmare we had returned home to. At this point, the biggest issue has been repaired (we dug the new well), the AC is in the process of being fixed, and the stove has been put on the back burner. Literally... that's the only burner I can use. The back one. But it's so hot I don't want to cook anyway. See how things work out?

This is the time of year I start obsessively checking weather.com and wondering when we'll get our first cold front. I do it every year, knowing full well that we'll be sweating while we trick-or-treat at the end of next month and I need to just give it up. In January I'll be complaining that my feet are cold and that my winter coat (aka ratty old hoodie) isn't warm enough.

The kids all went back to school in August and it's Bug's first year of middle school. He started making farting noises playing the clarinet with the beginning band and seems to be adjusting relatively well to the new, HUGE, middle school. Aside from his ridiculous new schedule that doesn't get him home from school until around 4:30, he seems to like school. We're having a bit of a hard time with homework since he doesn't appear to have enough time to complete it all before any reasonable hour, especially with karate three days a week, but we're working on getting it all organized. I have hope.

Munchkin is currently enjoying her "top of the school" fifth grade status and has found her passions lie with horses, skinny jeans, and this glam-goth style that would have been the height of cool when I was in high school if only we'd had the foresight to figure it out ourselves. She brought home a poster of Taylor Lautner from school today so I fear that she may have discovered boys.  Is it too early to start crushing birth control pills into her oatmeal?

Goober has started second grade and has joined the chorus. He's having a bit of a rough time because his best friend moved away last week and he's feeling a bit alone and sad at school. I'm really hoping he finds a new niche to settle into soon. His best friend has been in his class since kindergarten and to say they were tight is an understatement. He just celebrated his 8th birthday and the main focus of the day was, again, on LEGOs. He has amassed a LEGO collection worth several thousands of dollars I imagine and could probably build us a new house out of them if he put his mind to it. So we'll always have that to fall back on.

Two weeks ago we were mourned the loss of our beloved cat, Felix. His death was sudden and heartbreaking to our family and the kids were truly crushed. You might remember reading about him when our dog, Sudo, found him outside in a nest of kittens with his brothers and sisters causing him to be abandoned by his mother and then adopted by us. He will always hold a special place in our hearts as we bottle fed him and raised him from a little ball of fur with barely an eye open.

Without missing a beat, we decided to adopt two new kittens from the animal shelter to help heal our broken hearts. It's been a little over a week since we welcomed our new babies into our family and they've provided a great healing joy in our house. The kids have named them Mordecai and Rigby, but I call them Buddha and General Tso. The Man has decided to call them Sneezy and The Free One (kittens were buy one get one at the animal shelter... I kid you not).

So we're all getting back into the swing of the day to day here at the Spaz house. It's go-go-go around here with an activity every day. Between school, the barn, karate, eBay, girl scouts, and chorus, the minivan is getting a work out and so are we. I'll try to get back into a regular posting schedule soon. :)