You Just Got Served

People in the service industry are probably on the fast track to sainthood. Especially waiters and waitresses. These people put up with unbelievable amounts of crap and ignorance from the general public without the ability to tell them off. It should be mandatory that people who frequent restaurants have to wait on a table at least once, just to see how not to treat their servers. Since the birth of the phrase "the customer is always right" people with jerk-like tendencies have had the ability to bloom into full blown assholes.

We don't go out to eat much. When we do it's to places that have crayons for the elaborate mazes and puzzles on the place mats, and that include ice cream with the kid's meals so I can bribe them reward them for eating. If I do go out with just my husband, I find myself fighting the urge to order for him, cut his steak into tiny pieces, and applauding when he finishes all his food. Whenever we are out I always hear people being so rude to their waiter or waitress. I heard one woman tell her waitress "Every time we come here the food is terrible". Really? I wanted her to reply with something like "Oh, so you didn't feel like cooking tonight and decided to come to a place that has food you don't like? Don't let the door hit you on your lazy ass on the way out". Instead she had to apologize to this miserable bitch for no reason. Then there are those people who don't like the way the food is cooked and flip out on their servers for it. They don't cook the food jerk off, they just bring it to you.

I think it should be a requirement that these people watch the movie "Waiting". I guarantee that they will change their tune when they see why one line in that movie is good to take note of; "Don't fuck with the people that handle your food". Maybe the visual of their steak being repeatedly dropped on the floor, or someone having inappropriate relations with their garlic bread, will aide them in not being a total tool to their server.

I actually caused a waiter to inadvertently suffer the whining and moaning of a patron due to the behavior of my four year old son. I brought him out for lunch, and the hostess sat us right near an elderly couple. He was actually pretty well behaved. Sure, he was a little antsy while we were waiting for our food. He bounced around in his seat a little. He talked rather loudly. He went under the table a couple of times (once he emerged chewing gum; guess where he got it and insert dry heave here). Occasionally he would peek behind him over at the couple in the next both. Apparently this was completely inappropriate for an establishment that has menus that resemble PlayStation controllers. I'm not ageist or anything but this old bird was clearly of the grumpier variety. The woman started snickering and staring at me. She was saying things like "People don't know how to control their kids" and "Our kids never acted that way". Yeah, maybe because you were allowed to beat them with belts and wooden paddles. She's lucky I respect my elders because I was seconds away from getting up...hand and head waving yelling "You got somethin to say to me?"
When her waiter came she started demanding that he move them, and their food, to another table. She didn't want to say why, and the manager got involved thinking it had to do with their server. Luckily for me, they didn't move very far...and... my son has no filter. He must have sensed that I was having some ill feeling toward the couple because almost as if on cue he said (well practically yelled) "Wow mom, that lady is REALLY FAT!", while pointing at the woman. It took everything I had not to laugh. I usually reprimand him for such an act, but instead I whipped out the ice cream menu and let him have his pick; he deserved it.

I need a place to dine that caters to families, but it isn't just about the kids. It would be a cross between Chuck E Cheese and Hooters (minus only hot female severs; the mommies like a little eye candy too). The menu would cover everything from shrimp, and filet to a hot dog shaped like an octopus. Each table would have a waiter and a waitress; the waitresses will "cater" to the daddies, acting as if, had they been single, they would have a chance; and the waiters would come to collect the dishes and say things like "let me take those for you...I love to wash dishes. I also enjoy doing the laundry and vacuuming". A girl can dream, right? If he asked me if I needed anything else I would say "Yeah, why don't you come home with us, get the kids ready for bed, and read them a book. Oh, and don't let them near our room...I'm going to play a game with their daddy" What?...That's not out of line...the customer is always right!

The MOTHER of Invention

"Necessity is the mother of invention". I hear that all the time. But I can't help but think that the word "mother" in this is no coincidence.  As a mom I find many inventions to be definite necessities. If they hadn't been invented I'm sure I would have thought of them myself, and would now be a millionaire (Well, I would have thought of them, and then watched someone else with the mental capacity make them). I have no doubt that a mom invented many of the things I take for granted today. Had they not been around, I would have numerous contributions to the website Shit My Kids Ruined.com. The Facebook group has 16,000 members, all of which have most likely had submissions. When the kids are quiet, they are probably doing something you would rather have them not doing. It really sucks because it's nice to have some quiet time. The down side is your "break" doesn't last long before you are snapping out of it like you were having a dream that you're falling and immediately start shouting "Freeze! Whatever you are doing... stop right now!" as you run to find the disaster.

I received a phone call from my husband once that went a little like this:

Hubby: "Guess what your son did?" (quick note: I also refer to them as your sons when they misbehave)
Me: "Oh, no...."
Hubby: "He found a permanent marker"
Me: "Oh, no...."
Hubby: "He drew a line around the whole perimeter of his brother's room"
Me: "Oh, no...."
Hubby: "AND he drew on his crib, and the hardwood floor"
Me: "OH, NO!...."
Hubby: "and on his brother"
Me: "Son of a bitch!"

(Imagine how the conversation sounded to my co-workers that only heard my side of this conversation)

I headed to the store on my home from work. I'm not sure what I was looking for to clean "permanent" marker, but I was sure that a mom out there had this happen, and created something that would do the job. Perhaps it was called "Cleaner For Shit Your Kid Ruined". While looking, I found something called the "Magic Eraser". Why not? I'll try this little magical gadget. Let me add; whoever came up with this, I would love to find them, and kiss them. I'm aware that I think it's another mother, but...go ahead guys, have a visual.

When I got home I gave my new find to my husband and told him to get to work. Besides, it happened on his watch. To our surprise it worked! I wondered how I had gotten along to this point without owning stock in this thing. I'll admit I briefly entertained the idea of using it to clean the son that had been "decorated" with the marker. I was a little leery so I "googled it" (I figured a mom out there had tried it, and wrote about). Turns out, it's a bad idea. It will take off the marker, but it also takes a layer of skin with it. A bath did the trick. As I scrubbed him in the tub and washed his hair using "tear free" shampoo (also undoubtedly invented by a mother) I thought Thank goodness for the internet! I wonder if a mom invented that too...

I found myself in awe of all the "mothers" of invention. They must have come up with so many of the concepts for things I needed everyday...stain resistant carpet, non-toxic crayons, dishwashers, coffee, alcohol (wine, in particular)...I could go on and on.

Cloning may have been the idea of a mom, I mean who wouldn't want a replica of themselves? I was thinking the other day that if you add the amount of weight I gained while pregnant and subtract the weight I am now, I've lost a whole person while dieting (Dieting was NOT invented by a mom). That's really unfortunate in a way because I could really use that bitch around here from time to time to help me keep an eye on these kids!

You May Have a Degree, But I Have Blog Awards!

I'll admit, I'm new to this whole blogging thing. However, I am so excited that in the last two weeks I have been given two awards by some kick-ass fellow bloggers! I've decided to accept and pass them on in this one post, killing two birds with one stone if you will. Jeez, isn't that such a violent way to say I can do two things at once? Anywho...here goes:

The first award was given to me by Mom of The Perpetually Grounded. Her blog is funny, touching, and most of all, completely honest. I am honored to accept the award for Honest Scrap!

To accept this award you must list 10 honest things about yourself:

1. I love my two boys beyond description and never feel as if I'm "missing out" by not having girls. Besides, no one would guarantee I would have a girl so I stopped trying.

2. I am a lot like my mother...I tend to say things to my kids then think "Mom? Is that you?"

3. I live in New England and I seriously believe that I ended up here by mistake...I'm sure my ancestors are from a tropical place and somehow things went horribly wrong.

4. I wear sweatpants in public...not cute matchy track suits; elastic bottom sweatpants. My favorite pair has a huge hole in the upper inner thigh. Feel free to judge me, but I won't stop doing it!

5. I am deathly afraid of flying, and the fact that people on the "no fly list" are still able to board a plane isn't helping.

6. I've never had a nickname (that anyone has called me to my face anyway).

7. I've been on a diet for the past seven years...My youngest son is almost five and I still say the extra weight is because "I just had a baby".

8. I worry about my children to the point that it makes me physically ill sometimes (you would think that would help with #7, but not so much).

9. I love to watch sports and drink a nice cold beer (this may be why I'm OK with #1).

10. If I had the chance to live my life all over again I wouldn't change a thing!

Now, enough about me. Here are the two fellow bloggers I would like to nominate for this award:

Jen over at The Accidental Housewife. Warning: Don't try to drink your coffee while reading; it may come out your nose!

AND

Dalia at Generation X Mom. She always has great topics and really gets her readers involved!

The next award was given to me by Katie at Desperate For Coffee. Again, this is a great honor because I love her posts. They are fun to read and she's very honest! Thank you for the Sunshine Award!

For this award I must pass it on to 12 bloggers I enjoy. And the nominees are:

Donna @ The Obnoxious S.A.H.M.
Jeff @ Men Are Dumb, and I Should Know
Gina @ The Ish Blog
Mombshell @ The Mombshelter
Nikki @ The Lunatic Cafe
Camryn @ Mean Mommy University
Dumb Mom @ Parenting BY Dummies
Crystal @ We Aren't Perfect
Motherbumper @ Motherbumper
Truthful Mommy @ The TRUTH About Motherhood
Katherine @ This Or The Housework
Natalee @ Raising Normal Kids

Some of you may already have these awards. No strings attached, do with them what you will and just think of this as free advertising for your awesome blogs. Also, feel free to spend the day telling everyone that you won a major award...I give you my permission!

These Wagons Should Have Seat Belts

I hear people say all the time that they "fell off the wagon". Apparently, these wagons exist for a variety of reasons from quitting smoking, to dieting, or to stop drinking. My favorite wagon to mount, and then be thrown from, is of the dieting variety. I strap on my helmet, elbow, and knee pads, pick a date that I will board, and ride it as if it were a mechanical bull; desperately trying to buck me off. It starts out well enough, the road is smooth and I have a positive outlook on the whole thing..."I think I can, I think I can". Then the path begins to twist and turn and the ride becomes turbulent. My wagon starts taking me to places like birthday parties, or my kids beg for McDonald’s. It becomes time to grab hold of the "oh shit" handles. My outlook starts to change as I have to now repeat things like "cake is a sometimes food, cake is a sometimes food"...

I’ve struggled with weight issues my whole life. The size of my "skinny jeans" is probably double that of most women. I try not to obsess over it, but it’s tough when it’s thrown in your face every day on television. I find it amusing that commercials for Jenny Craig and Weight Watchers are sandwiched (pun intended) between those for Burger King and Pizza Hut. It’s also no fun to come across women in the supermarket that have 3 kids (all of which are probably younger than mine) as they strut along in their size 2 jeans. If this is a perfect description of yourself, and you swore you heard someone mutter "whore" as they were walking by in the store; you’re not crazy, I definitely said it.

I was probably at my thinnest when I got married. I find this unfair for my husband because technically it could be viewed as false advertising. Six months later I found out I was pregnant. In a way, I used this fact as a way to excuse my participation in a free for all with food. "This damn baby is always hungry". I ate whatever I could get my hands on while blatantly blaming my fetus that needed only a third of it to grow. The end result was my gaining a whopping 70 pounds! To be honest, I didn’t really give a crap at the time. I bore a beautiful, healthy, baby boy. Nothing else was all that important.

The constant distraction of motherhood helped me keep the binge eating in check. I remember days when I would put the baby to bed for the night and think "Did I eat anything today?" It took a year for me to lose most of the weight. I can clearly recall the day I went to my drawer and pulled out all of my clothes until I finally reached my "skinny jeans" which hadn’t seen the light of day in quite some time. Hello old friend. I put them on without much of a struggle and could actually button them. YES! Look out, mama’s back in business! One week to the day of this exhilarating moment, I was sitting in my bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test..."Are you fricken kidding me?!?"

My husband plays a huge role when it comes to my weight issues. He’s never once, even at my biggest, ever made me feel anything other than beautiful. Unfortunately, most of the time I didn’t pay much attention because I was so wrapped up in the kids and trying to grasp what had just happened to my life. I found myself thinking about all the times I complained about my pre-pregnancy body. I would walk through flaming embers to get that body back. I give him a lot of credit for hanging in there during all my pity parties (catered by Taco Bell of course).

For all I know, when I ask my husband how I look he isn’t even seeing me. He replaces my image with that of Carmen Electra or something. Frankly, I don’t care. As long as he’s believable he can visualize whoever he wants. This, of course, is the only time lying in a relationship is OK. The end result will be that I feel great and that will most likely translate to him feeling great later (wink, wink). Take note fellas, it leads to a win/win situation.

I’ve decided to trick out my new "diet wagon". It will be equipped with seat belts, a GPS and air bags to help me navigate through the bumpy roads. When temptation seems like it will take over maybe I’ll try having a glass of wine to help me relax. Besides, I have no use for a wagon that will help me stop drinking...that’s crazy talk.

The Perils of Date Night

My husband and I will be married for eight years this summer. Those of you with children know that they make it difficult to have quality time with your spouse. I’m very fortunate that my mom takes my kids overnight, affording us the ability to have "date night". However, it seems the opportunity sometimes brings disaster. For example; two of my last date nights started with my four year old falling into a frozen pond (it was only three inches deep where he went through...but still) and my having to perform the Heimlich maneuver on my six year old. These are not the ideal conditions for me to try and focus on my husband. I spent the evenings re- living the events the whole time and thinking of the worst case scenario for each. All I could see was my six year gasping for air while I practically broke his ribs desperately trying to remove the lodged food item. What if I hadn’t been in the room when it happened? Then there was the vision of my other son falling in a pond that was over his head and being carried away under the ice by the current..."I'm sorry, what honey?...Were you saying something?"...

In order to establish why date night has become so important to us, I have to start with a really embarrassing story...

A few months back my husband and I were caught "in the act" by our six year son. Let me apologize in advance because this may trigger a painful memory for most of you. I will never forget the time that I walked in on my parents doing "the deed". Granted, at the time I wasn’t sure what I had just witnessed. I believe the same applies to my son. He has never asked about the birds and the bees, and I have adopted my own version of the policy "Don’t ask, Don’t tell". I feel really horrible about this though because I know there will come a time when he does learn the facts and this image will enter his mind again- and haunt him for the rest of his life. I can picture him coming home from school the first day of Sex Ed; wide eyed and despondent. Oh crap...he knows. "What’s up Buddy?"..."How was school today?" Unable to even look at me he’ll say "Umm, I think I’m going to go to my room". There he will stay, curled in the fetal position, trying like hell to make the image go away. Sorry pal, speaking from experience I know it will never go away. Poor kid.

Well, needless to say this "event" has made me very uncomfortable. It’s difficult to be intimate when I carry around the constant fear that I will be busted by my own kid. I’m also trying to save my youngest from a lifelong crippling image of his own.

Date nights that begin without potentially life threatening drama tend to have a common sequence of events. As with girl’s night out, I tend to go through hours of preparation. I’ll ask my husband his opinion on outfit and shoe selection usually to get an answer like "I don’t care, whatever you think". Alrighty then. "How should I wear my hair...up or down?" "Umm, whichever one takes less time to do" Super, thanks babe. At least we will be meeting other couples when we go out and the women there will tell me how great I look.

We usually meet our friends that have also had the good fortune of obtaining a babysitter out for some drinks and to see a band. After drinking and dancing all night we get in the car, I turn to my husband and say "I’m hungry". Let me add that the act of eating after a night of drinking always has the same result for me- instant coma. He doesn’t have to ask what I want because the answer is always the same; Taco Bell, of course!

My husband has a love/hate relationship with Taco Bell. Loves the food...hates my taco induced coma. Nevertheless, we find ourselves at the drive thru at 1am ordering "the usual". This consists of three items for me and sixteen for him. As we approach the window I notice the totals for the cars in front of us; $2.35, $4.65...then we get up there and the total is $34.50. WTF? How is that possible at an establishment where the average cost of a menu item is 89 cents? Oh well, I’d pay $50 for that beefy, crunchy deliciousness.

As soon as we get home we start digging in. My eyes grow heavier with each bite I take. As the darkness starts to take hold of me I hear my husband say something like "You look beautiful tonight", but it’s too late...I’m out.

I usually wake up around 4am, a half eaten taco on my lap, still sitting up on the couch. I brush the cheese that has spilled out of my taco off my lap and do the walk of shame up to my bedroom where my husband is asleep..."Curse you Taco Bell!!"

I have promised to make a conscience effort not to fall into the hands of my nemesis (Taco Bell) on our next date night. I will heed the words of my friends as they grab my face and look in my eyes on the way out of the bar saying "NO Taco Bell!...Taco Bell BAD!". I will go straight home with my hubby and show him how much I love him without any fear of being caught by our kids. When we are done I will jump up, get dressed and run for the Border!!

Do AS I say, Don't say WHAT I Say

The new hot button issue in my house has been the use of vulgar language. I’ll be the first to admit that I do not help much in the promoting of "clean" language. It’s not like every other word that comes out of my mouth is a swear, but sometimes I will let one slip. My favorite tends to be "Son of a bitch!" I don’t say this at my kids, but I do find it funny that if I did then I would be said "bitch". I often think of the scene from the movie "Old School" when the guy says "ear muffs" to his son. The boy covers his ears and the father spews out some choice words. My problem is I tend to swear and then scream "ear muffs!" I’m having trouble figuring out what to do now that the damage is done. Most advice I get on the subject suggests that I should simply ignore it if my child swears. Oh, OK. So when my child is in a group of other children (some of which have parents that have given me this advice) and he says “shit”, you want me to ignore him, right? No problem...but don’t call me complaining when your kid starts saying it. Then there is the problem of addressing it and now the word has some power. Anyone with kids knows that the more you tell a child to stop something, the more determined they are to keep doing it...

Parent: "Stop touching that!"
Child: "What...this? (as they are touching the object) You don’t want me to touch this?"

Well, it's the same thing with swearing...

Parent: "I don’t want you to use that word"
Child: "What word? Ass? You don’t want me to say ass? Why can’t I say ass?"

An incident that happened the other day really got my attention. My son had my IPod and was wearing the headphones so I didn’t know what he was listening to. I was laughing to myself because he didn’t notice me watching and starting dancing all around and screaming the lyrics to the song. Then it happened...he dropped the F bomb. The sound effect that would be most appropriate for this scene would be that of tires on a car as it comes to a screeching halt. WHOA!! What did he just say?!? OK, the first thing I actually thought of was how he was probably doing a perfect imitation of me when I hear that song in a bar. But then I snapped out of it and wondered how I was going to handle this. I calmly gestured to him to give me the IPod. When he took off the headphones he asked why he couldn’t listen anymore. I told him there were words in that song that children shouldn’t say. "What words" he asked. Oh no, I’m not going to play that game! "There are just some words that are for adults only" I explained. Since he wouldn’t understand what "vulgar" is, I’ve decided to refer to swears as "adult words". Besides, he seems to understand the concept of "adult beverages". I know some people call them "bad words", but I was afraid to call them that since a lot of adults that he is around use these words on a regular basis. I don’t want him to assume that bad words are said by bad people.

Let me point out that I am not the only guilty party here either. They repeat all kinds of words that I wish they wouldn’t. They hear them on television, the radio, and from other children. I’ve always appreciated Disney movies because they always seem to add content that may go over a child’s head, but makes adults laugh. But the Disney Channel has a lot of cartoons now that have my kids saying things like "idiot", "stupid", or my favorite; "dill weed". Granted it’s not the F bomb but I’m still not fond of my kids calling other people these things. Especially me. Regardless of whether or not I let them watch these shows, there will be other kids that watch them and say what they hear. I guess I could just have them watch the old cartoons that I grew up watching like Tom & Jerry. They don’t even talk; they do however chase each other around all day and kick the crap out of each other. I just can’t win.

Last week my doorbell rang and it was my neighbor’s daughter. I opened the door and she said "What is a dick?" Hold up, what?!? (There was the sound effect of a that car trying desperately to stop again) "Umm, honey, huh? Who said that?" Thankfully it was not one of my children. My mind was spinning while I tried to figure out what to tell her. Let’s see; a Dick is what people sometimes call a private investigator. Or...Dick is often used as a nickname for someone named Richard. Think...think. Finally she must have sensed my duress and broke the silence with "Is it a slang word?" I said "Well, yes, I guess so". "Does it mean I Love You?" Umm, well I guess technically it could be used to show love...good grief. "Go ask your mom what that is dear". I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall over there. I was just praying she didn’t go home and say "Mom, Mrs. Farrell wants me to ask you what a dick is".

Honestly, I think some people may be a little too uptight about the whole thing. One woman was telling me that her son brought home a letter from his teacher saying he had to be disciplined because he used the word “penis” at school. Mind you, he didn’t call someone that. He was actually talking about...get this...HIS PENIS! Really, would she prefer that he call it his "junk", or his "package" or his "twig and giggle berries"? I suggested to the mother that she have him ask if he could call it his dick. Let her try to explain that word to him. Actually, I really want to hear what she would say...you know, just in case someone rings my doorbell and asks ME...

Girls Night Out

Girls night out hardly happens for me and my friends anymore. There was a time when we would go out for any reason; a birthday, a new job; because someone found out they weren’t pregnant or maybe just because it was Saturday. Now we never can go out because of; birthdays (our own children’s), a new job, or because someone is pregnant. We all seem to have reproduced at an alarming rate. It’s not like we don’t want to go out anymore. We usually try, and by that I mean we go back and forth trying to pin down a date that will work for all of us to no avail. I’m tempted to try and befriend someone that is getting married, just so I can attend a Bachelorette party.

When the girls get together I tend to plan for it as if I am attending a wedding. I feel the need to buy a new outfit, sometimes with matching jewelry. I make my yearly appointment with my hairdresser to have everything cut and waxed. My husband gets suspicious about my intentions when I prep for hours on the big night. Don’t worry honey...I’m not going out to impress other men. It’s a well known fact that women dress up for other women. It may have something to do with all the compliments that women get from each other after all their hard work. The great thing about complimenting women is that you can find out not only where they got the item you are complimenting them on, but also how much they paid for it. "I love your shoes" is followed by "Thanks, I got them on sale at Macy’s for $15".

I used to be able to go out for girls night with not much more than lipstick, my license, and a few bucks that I would just stick in my pocket. Now when I go out I practically need a suitcase. I have to travel with all of my makeup. Basically it’s because if I dance, even to one song, I sweat like a whore in church (my apologies if I’ve offended any religious prostitutes that may have stumbled upon this post). I frequently have to reapply all of my makeup and fix the eyeliner that has melted down my face. Also, for that reason I now have to travel with deodorant. I still bring my license, but not out of necessity. It’s just in case a sweet bartender may be looking for additional tips by carding me. I definitely have to bring more money now. Gone are the days of drinking for free just by wearing a low cut shirt. Occasionally someone will ask me now if they can buy me a drink, but they usually come on with a line that sounds like Joey from Friends…"How you doin?". My immediate thought is..."I would love for you to buy me a drink, but what are the odds that once you do you will just walk away as if you hadn’t?" Probably not likely, so no thanks. In addition to all these new items I also have to bring; gum, perfume, hair spray, a brush, lotion, Pepto Bismal, aspirin, and Band-Aids. Being a mom makes me prepared for any situation.

Going out with my friends is like going to see a therapist. We talk about everything from current events, to our kids and husbands. We laugh until we cry, and there is usually one of us that just ends up crying. The one that cries is usually to one that begins the night by saying "Wow, I think I have a buzz already...I haven’t drank in a while", after their first drink. You know the crying is coming when they say..."You know, I love you guys". My friends are pretty entertaining too. One in particular tends to find any type of pole in the establishment we go to and use it as her dance partner for the evening. It really never gets old, and it tends to be the highlight of the night.

Throughout the years, girls night out has definitely changed. Although we can still party like rock stars, the recovery time needed after such an event isn’t really worth it. Sleeping away the entire next day isn’t an option anymore. It sucks to have a hangover, but even more so when you open your eyes with that hangover and the first thing you hear is "Mommy, I’m hungry...I need a drink...Why do you have all that black stuff under your eyes?".

Oh well, so when are we going out ladies?!?

Will Work For Sanity

Being unemployed has really begun to take its toll on me. I’ve been without a job before, but it was always with the constant distraction of a newborn. After months of searching, interviewing, and semi-stalking employers the result is always the same. I am either "overqualified" or "under educated". My kids are in school most of the day and the time I spend alone seems to be causing the re-emergence of a condition I had prior to having children. Most people’s exposure to Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is through television shows which highlight extreme cases. Even at its peak my OCD was mild at best. I never viewed it as a problem because it didn’t affect anyone but me. My isolation has made me go back to my old ways...

For me OCD manifests itself in strange ways. I have an obsession for counting things, i.e the steps I take, the number of times I chew while eating, and the result must always be an even number. I’m not sure if it’s because I like even numbers or I hate odd ones. I think it may be the later since I actually hoped at one point during labor that it would last longer so that my first child would have at least one even number in his birth date. This is probably when I decided I may have a problem. I also have heightened anxiety when things are not where they "belong", and by that I mean where I want them to be. I’m sure many people feel that way but it was a little extreme for me. Things didn’t belong in a certain "area", they had a very specific location as in; 4 inches from the wall, or the exact center of the mantle. I spent my days walking around my house slightly moving things to their "correct" positions. Someone watching might think I didn’t move it at all because it was so slight, but for me it was where it "belonged".

Once my kids became mobile, I really needed to work on my "problem". It would make me insane that this little person would go around and move my stuff all day long. Not only that, they now had their own stuff that I had to find a specific place to keep and they refused to leave it where it "belonged". I followed them around all day putting things back in their place. It was consuming me that they had a blatant disregard for my condition. I always felt on the verge of screaming "stop touching my shit!" Finally (with the help of prescription meds) I waived the white flag. I was able to discipline myself and allow them free reign during the day, and once they were in bed for the night, I could go around and fix everything. Besides, this was my problem, right? Why make everyone else suffer?

Up until now, it was working. Now I find myself going around the house while they are at school, putting everything (including all their stuff) in the place I have designated as its home. Then it happens...they come home. All of the obsessing I did during the day is completely undone in minutes. As I watch everything being ripped from its "home" I start to shake and sweat. The urge is back... "stop touching my shit!". I've also noticed the development of a facial tick whenever I write my son's date of birth. I fear that the longer I am out of work, the worse it will become.

I’ve been plotting a new strategy for my next interview to ensure that I will get a job. I picture the interview to go something like this:

Interviewer: Tell us about your accomplishments, any awards or certificates achieved, and the skills you have acquired at your current job…

Me: Well, my first accomplishment at my current job was that I made a person. I did actually receive a certificate for this feat. It’s called a Birth Certificate. I then proceeded to figure out everything this person would need in order to survive. The skills I acquired resemble those of a nurse, teacher, police officer, lawyer, psychiatrist, and on one occasion, a firefighter. In addition I was able to retain a client throughout the duration of my employment...he’s known as my husband. I would like to add that I performed all of these tasks without any formal training, or prior education in the field, and for the first few years with minimal sleep. I have never used a sick day or taken a vacation...any questions??

As I walk out of the room and close the door behind me I envision the interviewers turning to each other. One will say to the other..."Clearly she is overqualified"

You Can't Get There From Here

Whenever I am going to travel to a place that I haven’t been to before, I get very anxious. As much as I try not to fall into the typical stereotypes of women, when it comes to lacking a sense of direction, I could be the poster child. I have no problem asking for directions, however, when the person giving them to me starts with something like “You’re going to go south on Route 117…” their words quickly transform into that of Charlie Brown’s teacher “Wah, wah, wah…” I would find it difficult to tell you which way is south even if I had a compass in my hand. Whenever someone asks me for directions (which I don’t recommend to anyone) I tend to point while trying to act as if I have any idea which direction I plan to send them. I say things like “Hmm, I’m trying to think of the quickest way to get you there” in order to buy myself some additional time to think of what the hell I’m going to tell them. It’s especially embarrassing when my husband is around. He tends to cough to get my attention, and when I look at him he is pointing in the complete opposite direction from which I am pointing with a smug little smirk on his face. Oh, whatever, you tell them then…

I would guess that a GPS unit would be a great solution for me, however being out of work at the moment I can’t justify making that purchase. Plus, given the fact that all I read about in the paper is that these devices are constantly being stolen out of cars, it would be just my luck that this would happen as soon as I bought it. So, my major source for directions has been MapQuest. I’m grateful that these directions are pretty straight forward as far as take a left here, or a right there, but telling me to travel .4 miles really tends to throw me for a loop. I end up traveling at a top speed of 5 mph while trying to read every street sign that I pass and occasionally glancing up at my rear view mirror to chuckle at the person flipping out behind me. In addition, I tend to need to double the “estimated arrival time” to account for the number of times I will drive past the street I need and have to back track.

What I lack in sense of direction, I make up for in ideas for products that I do not have the mental capacity to create. The solution I have come up with here is something I would like to call “Landmark Directions”. This application would have the ability to give directionally challenged people, like myself, directions that contain landmark clues embedded in them. Examples would be… “take a left on Main Street (there will be a blue house on the corner with white shutters)” or “take a right on River Street (it is two streets after the Plaza that has Stop and Shop in it)” Whenever I receive these types of clues in the directions (usually from another woman) I have the greatest success rate of arriving at my destination. It may also be helpful for this application to contain clues for when you have passed the street you need. It could be called the "you've gone too far" function as in “If you come to an intersection with a light, you’ve gone too far”. This would stop me from traveling 6 miles down the road after my street (.4 miles/6 miles- it’s all the same to me).

I bet if the above is possible, than you could also create “Landmark Directions” based exclusively on using Dunkin Donuts as your landmark. “You will pass 2 Dunkin Donuts… take a left 4 streets after the second one…if you come to a third Dunkin Donuts you have gone too far…”

Side Effects May Include....

This phrase immediately catches my attention during a commercial. No matter what drug it is, there is an obligation from the maker to disclose any possible side effects from taking their product. For the most part anyone needing to drive, or operate heavy machinery is most likely screwed. In the hopes that they may get some of the information to slip by you, they hire people to announce the disclaimer that would be better suited as an auctioneer. As I try to absorb the numerous conditions that may occur I find myself wondering if it’s even worth taking these products since many of the side effects seem to be worse than the actual ailment. Here are a few of my favorites….

ALLI- This is a weight loss medication which prevents the body from absorbing the fat consumed by its user. Basically, it takes the fats you consume and prevents your body from digesting them. But it’s got to come out somehow, right? Yep and, according to their website, the way it exits is through “gas with oily spotting”, “loose stools” and “frequent stools which may be hard to control”. This is a polite way of informing their consumers that they should never be more than 3 feet from a bathroom while taking this product or they may crap their pants. Also, DO NOT attempt to fart as you will have the same result. Wow, maybe lugging around a few extra pounds isn’t that bad after all, considering the alternative. In order to try and ease their customer’s fears they offer the insight that users should try to wear dark colored pants, or have a change of clothes handy. Gee thanks. They also suggest that having their users know these facts tends to adjust their eating habits and help them avoid eating fatty foods. Guess what geniuses? If they adjusted their eating habits to exclude fats, they wouldn’t need to take your explosive crap inducing product. I wonder if they have any insightful tidbits for those who have experienced these side effects. Any suggestions on how to retain your dignity after you’ve done the penguin waddle to the bathroom in the office and emerged in a new pair of pants and a soiled pair in a plastic bag??

PROPECIA- This product is for men and it claims to help them hold on to their remaining hair. I understand why some men would want to try it, bald isn’t always beautiful. However, one side effect that may make them reconsider is “gynecomastia”. In laymen’s terms this translates to “man boobs”. But these aren’t your everyday, packed on a few extra pounds, man boobs. These things can actual produce milk! Now, there may be some breast feeding mom’s out there who may consider this a blessing, but I would think most men would rather go bald. These pills are also so potent that women who are pregnant are advised not to even touch the pills as it may cause harm to the fetus. As if having both a mother AND a father that can breast feed them isn’t harm enough.

LATISSE- This medication will supposedly grow longer, fuller eyelashes. First of all ladies, let me start by saying I’ve never met a man that would turn down a woman based on the fact that they have short, or thin lashes. I’m pretty sure that they never even notice that we HAVE eyelashes. Can you imagine a man talking to his buddies and saying “She’s really attractive, but DID YOU SEE HER EYELASHES? Definitely a deal breaker” On the flip side, I’m sure you wouldn’t hear this either; “She’s really not that great, but DID YOU SEE HER EYELASHES? I have to have her” Anyway, the side effects of using this product include; conjunctivitis (good ole pink eye), hair growth on other areas that the product comes in contact with, and even BLINDNESS! So, you will have beautiful full lashes, but your eyes will be leaking puss, you could have hair sprouting from your upper eyelid, and after all that you can’t even SEE your new lovely lashes. I’m sure that will have the guys lining up….

Last but not least; my favorite…

VIAGRA- I probably don’t need to tell anyone what this product is for, but just in case there are those who haven’t heard of it; this little blue pill helps those men that suffer from erectile dysfunction. Every time I see these commercials, one line always stands out to me “In the rare event of an erection lasting more than 4 hours, seek immediate medical help”. I’ve always wondered how often this has happened, and how many men have actually called a doctor about it. I’d imagine that some men would enjoy having this stamina believing they could satisfy their partners for hours. Just a little tip for those men; it’s really not necessary. Halfway through your “marathon of pleasuring”, I guarantee your mate’s mind will start wondering to things like “I wonder if I turned the iron off”; “who is on Oprah tomorrow” or “OK, wrap it up…I have laundry to do”. Another great side effect is blurred vision. I’m guessing this would save the user some cash. No need to booze it up before trying to bring home that “special someone”. You won't need to put on the “beer goggles” when Viagra will blur your vision for you.

Obviously, people need to take medication. Many people use drugs to treat high blood pressure, high cholesterol, or diabetes. Just be sure to read the label carefully if the things you take are not a necessity. Not only could you end up needing additional products to cure the side effects, you may also end up needing therapy…..

"When I Was Your Age..."

I try not to say that very often, but I find myself doing so on a regular basis lately. I’m not sure why I bother because even my oldest son Devin, who is 6, can’t fathom the thought that I was EVER his age, or anything other than “old”. As he’s learning about history he asks me for first hand accounts on each event. Having him insist that I had some hand in the discovery of America can be frustrating. My children also have trouble understanding that I wasn’t always a Mommy. I heard Devin explain to his younger brother once that they were both in my belly when I was little. When I was “ready” I told Devin to come out, and then called Connor out two years later. I’m not prepared to explain the actual process to either of them yet, nor suggest that their father had a hand in “calling them out”. The fact of the matter is I WAS once a child. Watching them grow up often makes me think back to my own childhood. They are growing up in such a different time than I did. This is the reason behind the constant repeating of the phrase “When I was your age”…..

The access to information for my children’s generation is instantaneous. Gone are the days of wondering things like “what is the name of that song?”…Let’s face it; there was a time when a simple question like that could haunt you. It could fester in your mind for days, or even weeks, before you mentioned it to someone that could remember the name and relieve you from the agony. Now, you can “Google it” and find the name, artist, and the year it was recorded. Even the way they listen to music is different. They have Ipods and CD players. Back in my day it was the good old cassette player. Our “portable” devices where “boom boxes” that weighed 30 lbs. To be fair, we did also have smaller hand held cassette players, but they were not very discreet considering the head phones looked like ear muffs. If I wanted to listen to a particular song I could pop in my cassette and pray that I had listened to that song recently. Otherwise, I got to play an hour long game of rewind, stop, play… rewind, stop, play… oops I passed it…fast forward, stop, play…is this the song I wanted? Oh forget it! Not my kids. Find the song on your handy little touch screen, click on it, hear it. These devices hold thousands of songs by various artists. A cassette held a maximum of twelve songs by one artist, unless of course someone had performed the tedious task of making a “mix tape” for you. My favorites were the ones that had a DJ talking over the first few seconds of the songs because they were recorded directly from the radio. We were such rebels. The music has changed drastically also. I don’t remember hearing songs that contained language that I needed to be sheltered from. I am all for freedom of speech, and tend to resist censorship, however as a parent it has become very difficult. Having my kids listen to my Ipod and scream the lyrics of “Crazy Bitch” may have something to do with that….

There was also a time when television shows had to be viewed when they were actually airing (crazy, I know). My kids have the ability to watch any show they want, whenever they want. They can also rewind and pause live TV. They drive me crazy when they pause commercials to come and get me (usually from the bathroom) so I will know which toy to put on their list for Santa. When I was a child I could not wait for Saturday mornings because I could watch cartoons. My kids watch cartoons whenever they feel like it. If it isn’t something they have recorded with the DVR, they can use features such as “On Demand” to locate the show and watch it. I’ve come to dislike that feature; don’t get me wrong it is very convenient, it may just be in the name. I hate feeling like my kids are “demanding” anything.

I’m not exactly sure at what point in my life the internet became mainstream, but I do recall that when it did, it was certainly not accessed as quickly as it is today. “High Speed Internet” deserves its title since dial up connection was painfully slow. While trying to research something online with dial up I could have started logging on, gone to the library, found the information that I needed, came back, had a snack, and would still be waiting for the connection to be completed. Now I wouldn’t even need my computer to access that same information. I could get it through my cell phone. Cell phones were once the size of a small shoe box, and I didn’t know many people that owned one growing up. EVERYONE has a cell phone now, including many children. I’m not sure when I will be ready to get them for my children. Right now it’s due to the fact that anything costing more than $20 tends to end up being destroyed in a very short period of time. It’s very frustrating because I bet I could find toys that they got in a kids meal from Burger King a year ago that are in pristine condition. I’m also leery to create additional people in the world that use cell phones as their only form of communication. Texting has become the new form of “talking”. I often find myself stuck in the back and forth of a text conversation thinking “why don’t I just call them?” Then there are the people who go through life, coming face to face with others throughout the day, yet they can’t hang up the phone and stop their conversation with someone else. I find myself listening to one sided conversations everywhere. If your going to talk on the phone in the middle of a doctor’s office while everyone is sitting their listening, at least put the other person on speaker phone so we can hear both sides….

In this new technologically advanced generation I will be faced with the daunting task of raising children that will be capable of healthy human interactions outside of all this newfangled equipment. I will have to teach them basic things like eye contact when speaking to someone, or at least the courtesy of turning off all the other distractions when someone addresses them. It is important that they know about the “reply all” button on email and the need to double check the recipients of emails prior to sending them (this is something I’ve had to learn the hard way). I hope to help them understand that they shouldn’t “say” something in a text or email message that they wouldn’t say to someone’s face. When they are older I may also have to teach them the dangers of “drunk texting”. In addition, it is going to be very difficult to get them to grasp the concept of having patience. They have never had to wait for anything in their lives. I have always wondered who has the ability to name generations. I’m not even sure which generation I would be considered from. I would strongly suggest to whatever entity has this ability that they name my children’s the “Instant Gratification Generation”.

The Woman Among Boys

As the lone female in a house of boys, one of which is my husband, I get to see the difference between the sexes on a daily basis. Let me preface this with the fact that I have always been considered a Tomboy. My main staple on television is sports, I only own a few pairs of shoes (most of which are sneakers), and I love to drive my husband’s pick-up truck. I am guilty of frequently leaving the house without make-up and wearing an oversized sweatshirt (which is most likely my husbands). It’s not that I don’t care about the way that I look; it’s just that I don’t have time. Occasionally I will pass a mirror and notice that it may be time for a trip to the salon, just so I can have two eyebrows instead of one. Despite all this, I love everything about being a woman and a mother. I often remember almost feeling bad for my husband that he couldn’t experience pregnancy, although given the opportunity I’m sure he would have said “Nah, I’m good”. My feelings of sympathy quickly turned to resentment when I couldn’t sneeze or laugh without peeing my pants, or sleep because our little bundle of joy was attempting gymnastic moves all night. I would frequently press my belly against his back when we were in bed just so we could “share” these moments. He didn’t even wake up…..

Being the mother of boys is certainly very interesting. They are silly, rambunctious, and can occasionally be really gross. They are also extremely LOUD in everything they do. I will often be on the phone and have people ask me if I have birds because they have a high pitched screech when they get excited. I can deal with all of these things, except the gross part. The amusement that they have with their bodily functions has really become ridiculous. The word “poop” can lead to hours of giddiness. Let me add that their father is no exception. Whenever one farts, the other two will laugh. This tends to lead to farting contests. I do not participate in them, but I do need to pay attention just to make sure one of them is not trying too hard to participate. I’ve always wondered if the difficulty in potty training boys stems from the fact that being dirty doesn’t bother them. They would wait for the last possible second to warn me that they needed to use the bathroom. The words “I have to go potty” were immediately followed by “oops, I just did”. Most times I didn’t even get a warning; I would just notice that the front of their pants were completely soaked. I’ve heard stories about little girls that are training that would cry if they peed or would actually ask for a diaper because they needed to poop. I wish that my boys would have done me that courtesy. Instead I had to result to sniffing butts to find the guilty culprit, and even when I found him he would claim that he didn’t do it.

The lack of shame that they seem to have also stands out to me. I have tried, on numerous occasions, to explain the purpose of the hole in the front of their underwear to no avail. It should eliminate the need to drop their pants in order for them to relieve themselves. I can’t tell you how many times I have looked out the window into the backyard and found one of them, bare butt hanging out, peeing on the lawn. I am guilty of shrugging it off, simply because the act did not create additional laundry for me. As a matter of fact, while I was writing this, I noticed that my four year went into the garage. When I opened the door to see what he was doing I noticed a big wet spot on the floor. “Did you just pee in here??” “Yeah, I couldn’t make it into the bathroom” Funny, you made it into the garage though…the bathroom was closer. It is a different story when they are across the street, facing the road, pants around their ankles, peeing. Again, if there aren’t any witnesses I tend to be OK with it. Once, while we were on an outing with my son’s Kindergarten class, my younger son brought me over to a pond that had fish in it. While pointing out the fish to me he said “See the really big fish over there…when I peed in here he came right to the top!” WHAT??? You peed in there?? I was mortified, yet not so much so when I realized there wasn’t anyone near the pond that could have seen him do it. Considering the fact that I did not have a change of clothes for him I thought, no harm no foul.

I have always felt pressure with my boys to raise a “man” and not a “wuss”. When they fall my husband feels the need to say things like “shake it off” or “rub some dirt on it” (never understood that one). But I still feel the need to hold them and kiss it better. When they cry, they are told not to be a baby. They are taught that they shouldn’t cry, or be sensitive. It’s ironic that the things I feel pressured to teach them, are the things that adult women hate about adult men. I don’t want to raise “men” who don’t have feelings. My oldest son told me one day “Mommy, I like you so much that it hurts my belly sometimes”. How could I ever discourage something like that?? I’m sure one day, my Daughter-in-laws will be grateful that I felt this way.

I am often asked if I wish I'd had a girl. Given the fact that my Doctor refused to sign a contract stating my next child would be a female, I have decided not to try. A family of four works for me...we fit comfortably in a booth, and can easily travel in my compact car. I do sometimes think of the bond that I have formed with my own mother now that I have children and long for the opportunity to share that with a daughter. I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason though, and I will take what was given to me- two beautiful boys that make me laugh everyday. Plus given the choice between going to see Monster Trucks, or Princesses on Ice, I'd take Monster Trucks all day long....

New Olympic Event...Pole Dancing??

Recently I heard something on the news that really got me thinking. There has been some interest in adding a new event to the Olympics. That in itself didn’t seem surprising, just this year at the Winter Olympics there was the addition of Ski cross. Fan’s loved it. I’m all about trying to keep people’s interest with new events. The event or “sport” being discussed as a new addition did come as a bit of a shock. Pole Dancing. That’s right...the “sport” made famous by naked women in seedy bars could become part of the world stage of the Olympics. I would prefer to refer to Pole Dancing as more of an art than a sport. Don’t get me wrong, there is certainly an athletic aspect to it. One could even compare it to those Olympic athletes that perform on the parallel bars. The only difference really is that the poles of one are vertical and the others are horizontal. I found myself really thinking about the possibilities... What could the structure for this type of event be? Would there be divisions similar to that of Ice Dancing- women’s, men’s and couples? What types of moves would qualify for a higher score? Trust me, I can easily take something like this and run with it mentally for days...

Now, let me start by saying I am far from a prude. My view of Pole Dancing does not coincide with those who feel it is degrading to women. In fact, I can see some women using it as a way to build strength and stay in shape. I personally have never attempted it, not because of any opposition to it, but possibly because of intimidation. I see commercials on television all the time for workout videos that teach things such as Lap Dancing and Pole Dancing. There are a number of women who have there own poles at home that can be removed very easily, just in time for their fellow PTA members to drop by, and I say good for them...and their spouses. Not only can it keep you fit, it can keep the hubby from spending all the grocery money on watching someone else perform the “art”. Those who doubt that there is athletic ability needed to pole dance, check out the link to the video for the National Pole Dancing Championship that I have attached below. These are certainly the elite in the art. I would have to think that if I entered any local “establishment” I would not encounter women whose skills were even remotely close to those in this video, or needed in order to compete in the Olympics.

I found myself wondering how the event would be judged. There are currently events in both the Winter and Summer Olympics that are required to be judged by a person’s interpretation. Pole Dancing would have to be judged in a way similar to Ice Dancing or Gymnastics. Unlike events that have competitors who are trying to beat the clock, to determine the winner a judge would have to be more cerebral. These types of events seem to become hot topic issues when a country feels their representative has been robbed of a medal because a judge did not interpret the routine the way they had hoped. I wonder if a judge could remove the erotica that is usually part of a pole dancing routine and actually rate it on the technical difficulty of the routine. What is technically difficult on a pole? I would assume there are different names for the tricks that are used, similar to say, Snowboarding. Shaun White just unveiled a new trick in Snowboarding this year called the Double McTwist 1260. For all I know this is also a Pole Dancing move. The judges would have to be educated in these types of things in order to do a good job. Imagine the number of applications for the judging of this event. My husband thinks the judging panel should be all male since they are, after all, the general spectators of this “sport”. I believe a woman could be a bit more biased, and not have the score be in direct proportion to the competitor’s chest.

Another question I have is- would men participate? In order for a sport to be allowed in the Olympics it could not discriminate against men and refuse their right to compete. This in and of itself could put the kibosh on the whole idea. I’ve never seen, nor heard of a man who participates in Pole Dancing. I’m sure there are some out there but can only imagine the stigma attached to it. Just as male Figure Skaters are assumed to be feminine or gay, male Pole Dancers would face much of the same. To be honest I’m not really sure I would even want to see a male Pole Dancer, but that’s just me.

Overall, I’m not opposed to the addition of Pole Dancing to the Olympics. I just don’t think it would be able to overcome the obstacles it faces to do so. It would certainly draw spectators, many of which have never even watched the Olympics because they considered them to be boring. If it does get in, they may want to schedule a Curling match between Pole Dancing sets just to help that event’s ratings. I can just see it, years down the road, my sons coming over to visit and watch the Olympics with their dear old dad. As they gather around the television my husband turns to them and says “Boys, when I was your age, they didn’t have Pole Dancing in the Olympics....now pass your old man a beer and don’t talk until this is over!”

Click Here to see video

Poor Tiger

The reason for the following rant is the constant discussion I've been hearing about Tiger Woods, mostly from the male perspective. Since I live in a house of all males- two of which my conversations are limited to "please stop that" and "are you sure you don't have to pee?"- I decided that I need an outlet to other adults in order to share my thoughts on the subject. I should probably add a disclaimer here, as my thoughts may offend some,but here goes....

Tiger's story of infidelity in inescapable. The constant commentary on whether he is truly sorry, and sincere is sickening. I must admit, it is refreshing that most people find his actions deplorable. However, there are those out there who feel the need to defend him. Some explain that his actions are justified because he is in a position of power that made him feel that the rules didn't apply to him (his own words, actually). My question here would be, why get married then? Doesn’t marriage in itself create these rules which wouldn’t apply? Had Tiger been a single guy that participated in numerous romps with various women, I would say, good for him. The fact that he did this while married creates an entirely different sentiment.

There is also the view that "men are just wired differently" and they simply can't resist temptation the way women do. I am not naive to the fact that women and men are different. I also don't believe women have special powers of resistance. Just ask a woman who has a chocolate bar within close proximity. Temptation can cause weakness in anyone, but when giving in to that temptation would cause harm to those around them, I am of the biased opinion that a women would use that fact as a tool to help them restrain themselves. Using the excuse that men are "wired differently" could only imply that their brains are wired directly to their penis, and while one is functioning, the other cannot.

As far as the defense that he is a sex addict, I'm not really buying it in this case. I understand that there are people who suffer from addiction to various things. Most commonly you hear of chemical addiction, such as those to drugs and alcohol. I am not out to disprove that sex addiction is a real condition for some, but it seems more likely that it is used as a scapegoat by those who are not truly "sufferers" of the affliction. From what I know of most true addictions, the dependency completely overrides the person's ability to go without it. I would have to think that the need for sex or at least the inability to have sex whenever desired, wouldn't generally end in the sufferer hitting rock bottom- i.e. losing jobs, families, homes as is so often seen with other types of addictions. The exception would be those who are married and get caught in situations of infidelity. The effects can be detrimental to a family. The danger in having the option of being a sex addict is the addiction aspect only comes into play when someone wants something they can blame their actions on. They are suddenly sick and stricken with the effects of a disease. Sex addiction seems to overwhelmingly affect those who feel entitled to pleasure. I would suggest that the condition be downgraded to something more like “The Me Syndrome”.

Another interesting aspect of Tiger’s story, are the women with which he had his affairs. These women should be considered enablers. It’s not as if Tiger Woods is a man one could meet and not know who he was. These women were not “duped” into carrying on an affair with a married man. One woman actually sought out the legal representation of attorney Gloria Allred; notoriously know for hunting down and suing rich men. She claims to have been devastated by the affair, and even lost her career over it. Allred claimed that Tiger Woods owed her client an apology, and should have mentioned her by name in his public statement last week. Given the sheer number of women he had affairs with, had he mentioned them all by name it may have doubled the time that he spoke. In fact, it is quite possible that he didn’t even know her name. What was this woman’s profession you may ask? She was an actress in adult films…which is a toned down way of saying she’s a porn star. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that if she returned to her “place of employment” and bent over something, she would be back in business….

The bottom line is, I don’t feel that I needed an apology from Tiger Woods. He is not my husband, nor an idol for my children, so his actions do not affect me in any way. I do reserve the right, however, to view him as a dirty dog and I will do just that……