Decisions, Decisions. I'm Not Good At Them.

The Supernanny is holding auditions at the Mall Of America tomorrow and let me tell you: if we weren't going to the DL to see the great grandparents (who have yet to see Peanut in person) I would be down there right now to secure a spot at the front of the line. Then again, I wouldn't subject my inlaws to potential nation wide broadcast of the horrors that happen in their house with my son. Not fair to them. Plus side to living so close to the Twin Cities: if the boy is still like this when we get our own place, we know the show will be back. It's a huge market. TV shows like the Cities. We like them too. Seriously though, if I can't get the boy to buck up and be good, I'll find Jo Frost and pay her whatever she needs to help me, uh I mean him, out.

And....I was instructed this morning to turn the channel from the Wiggles back to Holly Hobbie. IMMEDIATELY!! I'll never figure this kid out.

Comments

This Has To Be Said

I haven't blogged in 8 months. We bought a house, still unpacking, school started. You know, life. I felt the need, the urgent need to blog about the Adrian Peterson situation today. I am full of all sorts of feelings and had to write about it. I would love to hear your thoughts on this whole thing. No really, I would. I don't feel I was a douchebag in my writing so all I ask is you not be a douchebag in your response. Thanks. My thoughts on the Adrian Peterson situation (but first, some backstory): I was spanked as a child. I'm pretty sure most of us that grew up in the 80s were. Until the summer between 5th and 6th grade I lived in Charelston, SC and from 6th to 11th grade, North Chicaco, IL. I have seen every form of discipline doled out on a child. I've seen spankings, beatings, hairbrushes smacked into heads, spoons hitting the tops of heads, whips, belts and even switches. I've seen it all. Most of you know that my son is named after a little boy who

This, That and The Other

I can already tell that Thanksgiving and Christmas are going to suck ass even more than it normally would at my job. Last night, a guy was telling me how much he gave me, how much he was supposed to get back and THEN told me what order to give it back to him in. Um? Sir? I'm not a twit, ok, I am a twit, but I'm not an idiot. Ok, sometimes I can be. Like that time I moved up to Wisconsin in the middle of a blizzard from nice, warm Tucson, AZ for a dumb boy and we broke up less than two months later. Yeah that sucked but my point is: I've been in retail, just about every job one could have except store manager, for about oh, 19 years. I think I know what I'm doing when it comes to giving change back. Don't talk to me like I'm a 16 yr old kid who's working his first job and doesn't give a shit what kind of work ethic he has. I care about you as a customer but when you're a dick to me and pissing off everyone in my line so they are dicks to me ? Well,

Get Your Motor Running

Something fabulous happened this week. Glorious even. Spectacular. Heaven Sent. (ok that one may be stretching it a bit). I am no longer a stay at home mom with the potential to go crazy because I can't get out of the house with the kids until the husband comes home from work and that could be 1pm or 6pm, it's a crapshoot. My husband has to drive all over the Twin Cities and the surrounding areas to see his customers for work. We have a gas guzzling Explorer that I love (minus the whole gas guzzling part of course). He's put a couple thousand (maybe three or four) on that thing since starting his job in Nov. I was griping to my therapist about how I feel trapped at home. I'm not me anymore. I don't know what I like anymore if it doesn't involve one of the kids. I hated that this was happening. Wow, I sure do go on tangents. (My ex once told me that he has to run mentally to keep up with me conversationally. So true) Last week, we up and got ourselves this bad b

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