My soul, heart, and a deck of cards set out on the table. Handle with care.

Usually my posts are filled with a giggle, a rant, an opinion or thought which brings you humor.

 This is not one of those posts.

There can't be a tornado - I have dishes in the sink.

Living in Ohio pretty much your whole life, you become accustomed to tornadoes and sirens and severe thunderstorms. Luckily in the area we are in, we are in a 'valley'- so more often than not the tornado will skirt us by and stay in the heavens as opposed to touching down to destroy our lives. They still scare the hell out of me though, as my husband and I both can recall the Xenia tornado of 1974. I may have only been about to turn 3, but it is one of the earliest memories I have - being shuttled to the basement in a frantic rush for survival and being scared to death that my dad was not at home.

Obviously we made it through, but it is because of that I have a certain level of preparedness that has escalated into pure obsession lately thanks to the news broadcasts of thousands of people who have lost everything in a matter of seconds. I do not take it lightly, and although my husband and children yesterday were astounded at my OCD taking a very paranoid form, they understood.

For the umpteenth day in a row, we were watching the news for information regarding a storm headed our way. This storm had a different angle; it was taking a dangerous turn for the worse so I started my 'mom panic' - you know, the panic that you have as a parent but have to retain some semblance of sanity and calm so that your kids do not freak the hell out. When that happens, then you have to deal with mom panic AND kid panic, and it is inevitable that someone is going to get yelled at.

I tell my kids that IF we should have to run to the bathroom to huddle in the tub, it is best to be ready now. My daughter grabs her lovey; a stuffed elephant that will probably walk her down the aisle at her wedding. My son, in full ADD mode, grabs the weather radio. Although I am partially happy at their picks, I tell them to get their shoes on.

"Mom, we can't outRUN the tornado."

"We are not going to outrun the tornado - but when we are possibly digging ourselves out of the rubble around us, do you want shoes on your feet, or do you want to walk around barefoot afterwards?"

They put shoes on.

I then explain why I am doing the things I am doing; I am putting the asthma medications and extra cell phone batteries and charger in my purse, along with a packet of papers I keep ready to go at any given moment containing birth certificates, social security cards, marriage certificate and license, copies of shot records and insurance information.

My oldest seems puzzled. I explain to her that if something is to happen, and we lose everything, all the information we need to rebuild our lives is now in my purse. You go to the bank and need money and do not have ID, they will refer you to the BMV to get ID. You can't get ID because you do not have a copy of your social security card. They refer you to the BMV to get picture ID. See the vicious cycle here? It is why I not only keep copies here, but in a safe deposit box at the bank as well in case of fire.

We are ready to go, and thankfully we only get pounded with some hail and some heavy rain and wind. The kids go out to pick up the palm size pieces of ice that just fell from the sky while I put things back in their safe place for the next round. I begin wondering if there was damage done to my car due to hail which is at the repair shop, complaining that my lawn chair cushions are all over the neighborhood, and that yet again the grass isnt going to get mowed because it is too wet.

It is then, for whatever reason, I realize the house is a mess, and dishes are in the sink, cereal is left out, there is some spilled soda on the counter and laundry left to fold on the couch. "Thank God a tornado didn't come - there are dishes in the sink - I would have been embarrassed had the roof been blown off and the news saw our house looking like this..."

I am sure it came out as a way for me to be thankful that I am not one of the thousands of people in Missouri or Alabama or Illinois or Kansas or....you get the point. I take for granted that I woke up with a roof over my head when so many woke up to search yet again for a loved one. I panicked that my wedding ring was not on my finger when someone is panicking because she cannot find her husband. I insisted my children put shoes on their feet when someone else is simply thankful their child can walk amongst the rubble that was a couple days ago a life similar to my own.

A tornado blows through my house everyday, in the form of three children and a husband I would be lost without, and I will thank every day it does.

My heart goes out to all those with and without shoes on their feet right now.

Im going to the bathroom and then taking a shower and other posts that lead to not allowing the 11 year old to have a Facebook.

My 11 year old daughter asked me for a Facebook account, because ALL of her friends have one already and she is the only lame-o that doesn't. She also reminded me they all have cell phones, their own rooms, boyfriends, trust funds, and ponies.

Okay, maybe I am exaggerating on the ponies. But they all have cell phones and Facebooks.

"No, you cannot have a Facebook page. We discussed this, and we will not discuss it until you are 12. If you get a Facebook page, you will feel obligated to make me your 'friend', and I do not know if you are ready to be my Facebook friend yet. It is a huge commitment that takes a thick skin and....."

"You said I couldnt have a CELL phone until I was 12. You never mentioned a Facebook. You said Myspace."

"Okay, as parent here, the contract specifically states that I reserve the right to change my mind at any given time for the rest of your life. Which, by the way I blessed you with. You are welcome."

I do not know if I like kids having Facebook pages. I am 'friends' with several 'kids' on my pages because they are my daughters friends who, for whatever reason, like me and also because I am heavily involved in her colorguard stuff. Whenever these 'kids' send me a friend request, I always let their parents know first before accepting it because I do not want to be that weirdo adult with 50 'kids' on her friends list.

Here are my main problems with kids on Facebook:

1. Constant status updates over nothing: You know what I mean - "eating a sandwich, then getting dressed, then watching some tv" and then 5 minutes later "I want some Taco Bell" and then 2 minutes later "eating taco bell". "Getting in the shower...." is my least favorite one I see. Really? I relate this to calling every one of my friends and saying "Okay, I am getting in the shower...". WHY do you want everyone to know you are in the shower? Do you want them to visualize you in the shower, or are you making sure they all know you bathe 10 times a day? Do they panic if you do not reply to a chat request right away so you are letting them know, or WHAT IS THE DEAL WITH THIS?? I do now want my daughter announcing to the world she is in the shower. Naked.

2. Constant teenage angst and drama: I have a teenager here. I deal with the angst and drama all the time. To log on and see more angst and drama is annoying. "so and so told so and so that I am a bitch and a slut". "I never get to do anything and my family hates me". "I hate you". "My stupid parents wont let me have this or that or blah blah blah". Have you considered for a second you cause most of the angst and drama by posting your angst and drama? Moreover, I hate the 'fishing for sympathy' posts too, which also occur by the same poster every two minutes; "Noone cares about me - FML and everyone in it, he didnt call," I thought the whole EMO thing was over with. By the way, he didnt call because he can read all your angst and drama on Facebook.

3. The hypocritical posts: I get teenagers and kids act like they know everything. What annoys me is when they make fun of other people for doing something stupid, then they turn around and post something stupid and get mad when we correct them, make fun of said post, etc etc etc. 'Think before you speak' also applies to 'Think before you type'.

4. The PICTURES. Some of the pics these kids post are ASTONISHING. Barely there outfits and 20 pics of you and your friends in the bathroom making duck faces in the damn mirror is downright stupid.

I tell my youngest this, and she proceeds to go through my Facebook page and comment on how a lot of my ADULT friends post stupid shit all the time too. Here is the difference:

WE ARE ADULTS AND AS BREADWINNERS TO YOUR EXISTANCE WE CAN POST WHATEVER THE HELL WE WANT TO.

Here are also some differences:

1. We NEVER post we are in the shower, about to shower, got out of the shower, etc etc etc unless a followup is present: "Getting a shower, then off to do the 50 billion things my minion children require of me because they think I can do it all."

2. Constant adult angst and drama: we post this to help each other through the struggle. We post our angst and drama so that we can get some sympathy from another parent or adult who shares our trauma everyday, and can possibly solve our dilemma with a pitcher of beer. You post YOUR angst and drama to whine, bitch and moan and inevitably create more angst and drama.

3. Hypocritical posts? I do not see too many adults make these. What I DO see is someone who thinks they are smarter than everyone else making a stupid comment, and like YOUR hypocritical posts, every other adult is still there to make fun of them in return for said stupid comment.

4. The pictures: I will admit to taking a pic of myself in the bathroom. I was making fun of you beforehand when I did it. And we are usually intoxicated when this occurs which explains OUR stupidity - what is your excuse?

I have never been one of these parents that feels the need to give my child something simply because everyone else has one, and never will be. I am holding true to my no Facebook rule, because I spend too much time watching too many kids post their entire lives online at too young of an age, when I grew up in a 'keep your thoughts in a private journal for noone ever to see' mindset. Even as adults we have accepted sharing everything with complete stragers online, but when our children do it so willingly it scares the hell out of me.

Even in my journal I never wrote "going to go take a shower...", but if everyone wants to know when I am bathing, I will be sure to call you and let you know.

Sending your child to school in flip flops is not bad parenting - but not wearing a jacket is grounds for imprisonment.

A post today from one of my groups on Facebook was stressing about an imminent phone call from her child's school. The stressor? Dear mom had sent the child to school in flip flops without first checking the flip flop rule in the dress code.

How DARE you. Children's services must be notified immediately, as it is apparent you are impeding the decent upbringing your child deserves.

Kidding, of course - I would think in the scheme of things this should be a relatively minor offense, unless of course it is gym day in which case the child should receive a zero for not being able to participate in square dancing.

Kidding again.

I actually get quite annoyed at these posts; not because a parent actually is freaking out because she sent her child to school in flip flops, but because she is actually freaking out for something so insignificant that she shouldn't even be worried about it. I appreciate what schools do to a point - in my day they could care less if you had breakfast or not before arriving on their premises, and now they realize the importance of all children having access to some nutrition before starting their day.

It is when they decide how to parent my child throughout the day and emotionally chastise me when they feel I have done something lackluster as far as parenting goes.

Case in point: my youngest daughter came home in tears one day because she was not allowed to go outside for recess because she did not wear a coat, and only had a jacket. Her twin brother boasted that he got to go outside just with a jacket, because he had a hooded sweatshirt on underneath. A note from school was produced from her backpack, and written on it was the schools reasoning for barring my daughter from the playground.

"Coats, gloves, and hats must be worn when temperatures are cold enough to warrant such. Mackenzie was not allowed her recess time today due to inappropriate clothing. Please make sure Mackenzie wears a coat daily. If you need assistance purchasing a coat, we can direct you to resources to accommodate your needs."

WTF?

I should have been more astounded at the suggestion I cannot afford a coat, but I actually let that one slide. If you are interested in purchasing a coat, there is a really nice North Face coat she wants with fur trim and a price tag of $290, which far exceeds her cheap one purchased at Target. However, I was more focused on the fact that my lackluster parenting produced the inexcusable result of my poor defenseless child going to school in the harsh spring conditions with no coat to sheild her from the inclement weather.

Had I decided to write a note in return, I suppose it would have read something like this:

"In my defense, your honor, the temperature was 68 degrees when she walked out the door this morning. As I was busy doing the dishes after providing my child a good breakfast, I did not have time to pull up the Doppler radar and forecast the possibility of the temperature dropping within two hours to a frigid 49 degrees. I did, however, suggest she may want to wear a heavier coat; however, I mistakenly had the mindset that instead of sitting on my children and forcing their every decision I allow them to learn to take care of themselves. I blame myself for the frostbitten fingers that surely must have occurred due to my selfishness. Please forgive me."

That was the letter I SHOULD have written. However, the snarky in me came out and acted out in another way - I sent my child to school the next day bundled up so damn tight she rivaled Randy from a Christmas story and was not only unable to put her arms down, she had to roll to the bus stop due to the arctic wear I dressed her in.

When did schools decide they were the parent? Is it because of the amount of people who do NOT parent, or is it because they are overachievers in their own perfect mind and only feel better when they belittle the actions of other parents?

I would understand a school being concerned if my child showed up in flip flops and a jacket during a snowstorm. I get not wearing flip flops on gym day. What I do not get is undermining my abilities to care for my child simply because she chose to wear a jacket to school as opposed to a coat.

Our society has moved so much from that of one trying to raise good, productive members by any means possible to one where we coddle our sweet precious gifts to the point of literally spoiling the gene pool. Schools are so concerned with political correctness and anti-lawsuit mindsets that they feel they have to please everyone at all times and forgot how to take care of business at hand: actually TEACHING our children.

Gone are playgrounds with equipment made of metal that was 190 degrees in the sunshine and placed on concrete. Children are not allowed to run on concrete - they may fall. Don't play dodgeball - someone may get hurt. We no longer have Halloween parties or Christmas parties - we have 'fall festivals' and 'holiday concerts'. Kids are getting too fat - but we will feed them junk at lunchtime (for further reference, also please revert back to "no playing on the playground for fear you may get hurt). Little Johnny is allergic to gluten and peanuts and eggs and yeast, so no treats are allowed to be brought for birthdays. ALL children in the class must be invited to the party, or no one can be invited to the party. You are here to learn the answers, but we will punish you for not knowing them. You do not need to say the Pledge of Allegiance as your right to live in your country if you do not agree with the wording. Your child can only be absent 5 days during the year, or we will send the truant officer to your house to question why you feel the need to keep YOUR sick child at home without a doctors note. And it is a sign of horrible parenting if you dare even THINK of sending your child to school in flip flops and a jacket.

I long for a time of sharing a soda with your friends, running on the playground, drinking from the hose in summer, and wearing your Halloween costume to school.

Just make sure you wear a jacket over it.

Bullying to be part of the cool crowd is far better than caring for anyone's feelings.

Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that at 39, I would revert back to fifth grade.

It's not like they pull you aside and tell you as a child that someday, when you are all grown up, you will have a flood of memories come back to haunt you and you will deal with old issues that you thought were long gone. If anything, they lie to you and tell you that someday you will "look back at all of this and laugh".

I am not laughing.

My son has had to deal with random acts of stupidity called bullying for over three years now. I guess he is singled out because he just is not one of the 'cool kids' - he has strawberry blond hair, tons of freckles, and the genetic betrayal of DNA which has led to teeth that are in serious need of braces. He tried to play football and hated it due to a coach that thought 'wee football' meant 'pro-draft', tried baseball and that just didn't fly either, so I guess you could say he is just not athletically inclined. Being my son, however, I love him DEARLY, would give my life for that boy in a second, and could care less about what he looks like on the outside. He is one of the most loving children I have ever seen, is sharp as a tack (even if he doesn't use it all the time) and is an all around good kid. He will talk to anyone about anything, which can potentially be his downfall from time to time as, lets face it, not everyone likes to talk. I guess Johnathon sees it as being friendly to everyone, and not holding anything against him.

Wish every kid was like him.

The last few years, these nerdy traits have placed a bulls eye on his back for bullies, as if they have some radar in their minds that attracts them to what they see as easy targets. He has been harassed, made fun of, and now, assaulted when some boys pushed him into a ditch.

The flood I was referring to came gushing back this past Friday when, at a football game, my youngest daughter comes running to me in the stands saying "MOM!! THEY ARE DOING IT AGAIN!!". I tore out of those stands, like a mama bear about to brutally attack that evenings potential dinner, and found the boys. One was crying, as apparently my son, in a futile attempt to fight back had hit one of them in the head with a plastic soda bottle. I laid into all of them anyway - telling them that if they so much as breathed in the direction of my son from now on, I would be up their asses like white on rice. "I'm gonna go tell my dad you threatened me", one said. "GOOD!! Go tell your dad - I will rip him apart , too! I guess it's okay for you to bully my son, but when someone bullies YOU, you run and tell your daddy?? Go get him - I'll whip his ass also" was all I could muster out.

Not my finest hour. Probably not the way I should have handled it. Do I give a crap now? Partly yes, mostly no.

I was bullied in fifth grade - a LOT - mostly because we lived in an exclusive suburb of South Dayton and my mom was the epitome of white trash in their eyes: we lived in low income housing, and my Tretorns were actually purchased at K-mart and were cheap knockoffs. My Gloria Vanderbuilts were Wranglers. I babysat for weeks to save up $37.95 for an Izod shirt (cheap by today's standards, but this was the early 80's after all...). I was bullied because I just didn't have what the other kids had, and remember crying every day because I was so embarrassed. I had the lowest self esteem ever, which is only increased by the normal shit that you go through anyway in 5th and 6th grade. You get to a point where you believe everything everyone says about you, because you hear compliments so rarely that the bad stuff must be true.

I grew out of mine - I wish I had some magical cure to share with everyone out there but I don't. I just woke up and realized you know what?? To hell with this shit. I am better than all of this.

It doesn't mean though that sometimes I have walls that are very hard to break through, even to this day.

To watch my son go through this, however, has brought it all back. I just do not understand it - I have taught my children that everyone is different, and these differences are what make us awesome individuals, capable of coming together and accomplishing anything we set our minds to. Someone elses difference could be the strength you need. Doesn't mean you need to get along with everyone, nor will you ever get along with everyone, but at least respect them as you would want them to respect you.

Did I go to another class than everyone else out there?? Why do *I* get this and other parents don't?

Many people say that bullies are lacking something at home, and to be honest I am not finding that to be entirely true. I am starting to blame the PARENTS for this crap more than I am the kid. It is not that they are absent from their lives or anything; rather, I think in a lot of instances, these punks are TAUGHT that bullying is cool - that being part of the cool crowd, no matter what the consequences, is far better than caring about people or respecting them. That to be on the football team and be the homecoming king eventually means that you have to act like a complete punk in order to get there. Be the strong kid who everyone else wants to be. Who cares what you do now - someday you will look back at it all and laugh.

Still not laughing.

I will continue to teach my kids to respect everyone, but now in my curriculum I will teach that you do not have to be a doormat either. Fighting back is acceptable to me, and I will defend you every time. "Turn the other cheek" can only go so far, before you have to fight back to teach someone to back off.

I hate telling my son that someday he will look back on all of this and laugh - because I look back on mine and still cry. What I AM going to tell him, however, is that someday, he will look back on this and laugh not because it is over and done with, but because he will not have wasted his whole youth trying to be one of the "in crowd" , who are still as fickle and fake in adulthood as they were in school. He will be successful and happy because he held his ground and continued being who he is, regardless of what these stupid jerks thought about it.

And he will laugh even harder when he is so much more of a man than these boys ever will be - full of love, respect, and kindness, and happier than words can describe.

NOW I am laughing.

Parent Teacher Conferences lead to a bottle of Moscato.

I have come home from my first parent teacher conference with a bottle of wine. Be forewarned that I am drinking said bottle as I type this. I would say I am just having a glass, but that would just be lying, and I prefer to dwell on the fact that my impetuous wine purchase following my children's parent teachers conference will soon having me feeling as blissful as when I first woke up today, unaware of the onslaught of misery ahead that is commonly referred to as Wednesday.

This day has sucked ASS. Pure, unadulterated ASS. One after another, my hopes of a seemingly normal Wednesday were shattered to hell and back, and then kicked me in the face for good measure. Mackenzie, my youngest twin, is sick due to the fine layer of pollen that has encompassed our home. She looks like a blow fish about to explode, and although my motherly instincts tell me to dote on her every whim and need currently, the conniving, selfish bitch in me was somewhat disappointed that my personal mommy time was now to be spent shopping for the exact fucking Popsicles she wanted, picking up snot rags everywhere and Googling industrial uses for mucous. My son Johnathon - the other twin hell bent on ruining my alone time, comes home from school limping because he hurt his ankle at some point during the day - no doubt in an intense testosterone ridden 4th grade boy chase girl scenario on the playground. My oldest, Elizabeth, is still convinced the world revolves around her and needs a ride RIGHT NOW to wherever it is she is going to go. And I, still grieving the loss of my mommy time, realize that I have a parent teacher conference today as well. GO TO HELL WEDNESDAY...I hate you.

I drug the first kid with Benadryl, drug the second kid with Ibuprofen, drive the third kid to where she needed to go (however much I wanted to drug her as well, she guilted me with the priority of having a school project to work on) and then I go to the parent teacher conference. How dare my kids teachers care so much about my children that they actually want to speak with me regarding their progress.

In reality, I am very thankful for my children's teachers - they are the most unrecognized profession as far as I am concerned and deserve not only higher salaries, but goddamned medals of valor. I celebrate the day I send them back to school after a long ass summer of whining that they are 'bored', whereas they have to deal with them all day long and instruct them on how to be educated responsible members of society. My hat is off to them. Really, it is.

My twins are as different as night and day - actually, they are myself and my husband reincarnate. My oldest was the 'trick' God bestowed upon us - you know, the perfect child that makes you want to have more. Then we get what our parents cursed us with; the 'I hope someday you have kids JUST LIKE YOU' curse. We got TWINS, a boy just like my husband, and a daughter just like me. I would like to say that I wish we stopped at the one to prove the curse wrong, but the truth is I love these kids like nothing in the world. What better way to leave my legacy behind than to have a daughter who acts JUST LIKE ME, that I can mold into an even better version. Take THAT, God.

So there I sit, in the conference, as nervous as if it were my own conference. I instantaneously revert back to fourth grade mentality, worried that I am going to be punished for STILL not knowing fractions and sometimes having to multiply with my fingers. I blame that on the Moscato, even though I did not drink in fourth grade but Moscato takes me back to that level at times.....

The teacher starts with how Johnathon is progressing, that he is really a good kid and even though I practically have to sit on him at home to get his shit done he is really taking things more seriously in class. His only problem seems to be that although he is purely capable of making straight A's he seems to just not give a shit, rushes through his work, and basically does a half assed job. She is frustrated that she knows how smart he is and just seems bored. We come up with a game plan to get him more interested. We agree that this kid is gonna make it.

Then we move on to my Mackenzie. My sweet mini me. She is the opposite of her brother - she loves to learn, does the work required, does extra work when asked, and generally is not a problem. But there is one....thing.....

I brace myself. BUT?? I hate that word at the beginning of a sentence. It signifies that although someone has just told you one thing, they are about to bash you with another. Or justify an apology; you know, that whole "I'm sorry, BUT....." bullshit.

"I don't want this to come off the wrong way, but I have been very concerned with Mackenzie's spelling and writing," the teacher says. I think to myself, okay - concerned as in she is discussing what she really wants to do with that friggin spelling paper, concerned as in she is discussing in detail what happens when mommy and daddy close the bedroom door...how concerned are we here?

"Some teachers here went to a conference on Dyslexia that unfortunately I was not able to attend. I asked them to look at Mackenzie's writing as I sensed a problem. They too, are concerned that there may be some issues we need to look into in order to help Mackenzie further. I do not want you to think we were keeping this from you, but I just wanted to make sure before I made you aware of it that there was in fact a possible reason for concern."

I am stunned. First off, I am stunned that my perfect babydoll is having a problem. As much as we love our children, a problem, in whatever form, comes off first hand like WE did something wrong. Like we have somehow failed our children. Like WE should have caught this. The fourth grade mentality is flooding back again, but this time it has nothing to do with fractions or multiplication - it is that I have let my child DOWN. After I feel like a complete imbecile for not recognizing this, I feel an overwhelming sense of thankfulness that there are still teachers in the world that actually give a shit - that do not let our kids fall through the cracks, that WANT them to succeed as much as we do.

Choking back tears, I ask what we can do. ANYTHING. Name it. This is my swollen blow fish kid who dominated my day picking up her snot rags, and is now dominating my heart and needs our help. We are going to have her evaluated further and go from there, and I am reassured that 3rd-4th grade is when these issues pop up the most and now is the perfect time to correct them.

So my kids ask why I am drinking a bottle of Moscato after a conference. I am sure they think it was in fact horrible and I will be disconnecting the Wii again shortly - but in reality it is because I am celebrating the fact that I DO in fact have awesome kids, and am thankful to live in the school district I live in.

That, and I do my best work when drinking, and am planning medal of valor for Mackenzie's teacher as we speak in the form of an end of year trip to the day-spa.

Not exactly a medal of honor, but at least it is a way to thank her for caring about my kid even half as much as I do.

Hope everyone had a happy "give your kids a buncha sugar for no religious reason" day.

SO glad this weekend is over. We did not celebrate Easter really yesterday - despite the kids urging to go out and buy them tons of candy I resisted. No candy. Their task was to tell me how receiving candy was symbolic of the Easter holiday, and since they gave me nothing except how eggs are associated with spring and rebirth and new life and shit their answer did not satisfy my request. So, no candy. I must admit that part of it is due to the fact that I am sick to death of accumulating cheesy baskets and that grass shit being everywhere. I got selfish. I know, bad parenting. How dare I be selfish since we give up that right when we bring a child into the world.

The true reason is that, not being a particularly religious family, I decided that Easter is essentially nonsense in this house since it is considered a religious holiday and we already celebrated 'our' Easter during the spring equinox. Easter is nothing more to me than a reason for every mall and store in my area to close - they themselves abuse it as a reason not to work and take my money - and should thus be re-named to "Buy your kids a buncha stupid candy for no REAL religious reason that will rot their teeth and require several dental visits" day. Fit THAT on a calendar.

I'm really not as cold-hearted a parent as I claim - it is really all a front. We finally gave the kids the Wii system we bought again at Christmas as their 'easter' gift. For those who do not remember, I sold my sons Wii system some time ago as a punishment for repeatedly denouncing my claims that bad grades would bring the harshest consequences. My darling son, at Christmas, must have been delusional in thinking that I would just hand it over in the spirit of the season - and, since he was secure in this notion that the spirit of Christmas would cause me to give in to his will and he EXPECTED that damn thing under the tree, I took another proud parenting stance of NOT putting it there. The grades still weren't where I wanted them to be. Jesus himself would have had to walk into this house and beg me to give it back - I was NOT going to crumble.

My plan worked - both of the twins have finally realized that fucking with momma is NOT a smart idea. They have learned that I actually DO have eyes and ears all over this damn town, watching them constantly when I am not there. They have done extra credit without being told, have had 'A's' on the last 4 spelling tests, and are really making an effort. So, no baskets, but a Wii system and Call of Duty is more my style anyway.

So Easter was spent doing OUR thing - eating pizza and playing Call of Duty and Raving Rabbids and Guitar Hero until we couldn't stand it anymore. We did it together - as a family. THAT is what a holiday is all about anyway.

Besides, no better way to celebrate a holiday than blowing shit up with your kids.