Let's get it on!

It's Saturday night and I am already dreading my weekly promise to Brian of at least an hour of "naughty time" every Saturday. We had a talk last week about how little we get naked together. And by "we" I mean Brian came to me and pretty much demand that I put out more. I feel bad for him. On some level he must know that I would rather have sex with my own father than let him stick it in me. But he doesn't admit it to himself, he thinks it's a superficial problem with my general tiredness. He thinks that because that's what I tell him. I realize he does deserve something and a blow job as payment for my room and board is not the worst thing in the world.

Tooth Fairy

I had to take Bekka to the dentist today. You see, Brian feels that it is an appropriate form of love to buy a young girl with a sweet tooth, weight problem, and lack of self control 6 pounds of Skittles every week from Costco. And since I can't take the candy away from her (it's like ripping a newborn cub from a Kodiak bear), I am stuck dealing with the aftermath. Like most kids, Bekka hates the dentist. Unlike most kids, she becomes uncontrollably upset and vicious when faced with a dentist visit, which is pretty often these days. The drill usually goes like this: I sit in the car in the school parking lot for 15 minutes psyching myself up by chanting "You can do this" over and over again. I then spend 5-10 minutes, usually with the help of Ms. Swarthright loosening Bekka's death grip from her desk. I carry Bekka out of the school not unlike Liam Neeson handling Jodie Foster in "Nell". When I finally get her buckled up, I pop in Miley Cyrus' "Breakout", which finally calms her down, but as soon as I turn the car off she starts up again like an air raid siren. I then drag her from parking lot to dentist chair and hold her down while they sedate her. The silence in the aftermath of all this chaos is so delightful, I cry. Because it's over. For today.

The Earth Moved

Tonight I was guilted by certain ladies, whom I despise (Marie Cartwright and Janice Donerway) after the PTA meeting for not having an emergency kit at my house. They kept peppering the phrase "I can't believe you would not be prepared for an emergency" throughout our conversation about how much TV the kids should watch in the evening. So when I got home, I looked up all the extra crap I need to buy to put in the kit:
One Gallon of water per person per day
Canned foods and non perishable treats
Can opener
Battery powered radio
Flashlight and extra batteries
Whistle
Change of clothes for each person
Blankets or sleeping bags
Toilet paper, tampons, garbage bags
First aid kit
Matches in a waterproof container
Tool kit
Local Maps
Cash or travelers checks a credit card

This is a huge thing! How am I supposed to get it all out of my house when disaster strikes? Instead of having one big bag, I am making this a family project. I am buying backpacks and all the things listed x 4, then we’re all responsible for our own safety. After society has broken down and chaos ensues, those guys are on their own cause I’m taking my pack and starting a brand new colony by myself.

Love seat

Last year for my birthday Brian promised me anything I wanted. What I really wanted was a nose job, but Brian and I talked about it and "we" decided a couch would be more practical. So I choose this beautiful Ethan Allen couch:

From Resentful Mom

In this color:

From Resentful Mom

So this evening we went to order it. And only 58 days before my next birthday. I would have gone to Ethan Allen to get it myself long ago, but I am not allowed a credit card. I guess I did it to myself, because one time I bought myself a $200 Hermès perfume which he thought was an extravagant purchase. Even though I had asked for it for three years in a row for Christmas and never got it. It was all I wanted for so long and every Christmas I had to act happy when I opened all the off-the-mark gifts like a marble garden turtle, flannel pj's and crappy hand made cookie jars. So until I can prove to Brian that I am "responsible" again, it's family trips every time I need to buy something for myself. There's nothing quite like having three people watching you pick out bras and panties.

BFF!

My "best friend", Kristie Snidelou, is really more like a person who I allow to come into my house and rape me of my time. She has been married to the same person three times. Right now they've been married for 26 months, which is about how long it takes them to start realizing they hate each other again. I hope the this time, when they have one of their knock-down drag-out divorce inducing fights, which they will soon, they decide to drop rat poison in each others morning OJ. Cause if they don't kill each other, I don't know how many afternoons I can continue to listen to her Bonnie Bell lip glossed slathered lips repeating the same, tired, redundant points about why Stephen just isn't good enough while I stuff my mouth with turkey roll ups. Something has to go in my mouth so hateful words don't.

Bright Sunshining Day

Today it's 24 degrees. That's the high, which means it's only that warm if your standing in direct sunlight and the wind is not slapping you in the face like a frozen metal shovel. It's about this time of year I start wishing the ozone was completely eradicated so that I wouldn't be so abused by the cold. Like having to get out of the car, becoming instantly frozen, going inside, and before my toes have feeling again, going back outside to the car to do it all over again. On busy Monday's also known as every Monday,it's a torturous cycle of going inside then outside, again and again. Cody has 6PM-8PM karate class and Bekka has 6:30 ballet and 7:30 tap - at two different dance studios! I only agreed to this insane evening schedule because I get go to Dunn Bros. Coffee during their classes and enjoy warm coffee that I didn't have to make. I don't know what the kids who work there think of me coming in and out, ordering a small coffee each time, and just staring quietly. There's really not time to think about what else is going on because if I'm not busy picking out people I think I'd like to trade places with, I'm involved with my internal debate about the pros and con's of just jumping on I-94 and driving 'till I run out of gas.

Hello Mrs. Nicholson!

I've secretly hated Kathy Nicholson, my chubby one dimensional neighbor for her toothy smile, her overuse of the phrase "Things have a way of working themselves out" and her constant bragging about her stupid, clean silver Toyota Sienna. Adding to that, last week I realized she and her whole garbage pile of a family have been stealing our wireless Internet! Our Internet had been really slow, which happened to coincide with her two awful waste of space kids getting their own computers. I put on my detective hat (also known as a VO5 Hot Oil treatment) and thought about what to do. I googled how to see what IP addresses are accessing our router. Then today I read about how to set up a WEP password and then set my laptop, Brian's laptop, and the kids PC to use the new user name and password (I called our network "Team Family". It's an ironic name, but Brian and the kids think it's sincere and love it so I won't rain on their parade.)I was really proud of myself for succeeding at something that didn't involve excrement or food. Not one hour after I shut down the free Internet train, I got a knock on my door. It was Kathy, standing on my porch in a too-tight peach colored Pink by Victoria's Secret jumpsuit and holding a baked pie! She had the nerve to ask me if we'd be interested in splitting the Internet costs with her and her family, you know, the "recession and all". I wanted to tell her to stick that store bought apple pie right up her fat ass cause I don't eat carbs, bitch. But what I actually said was "How nice!" in my high pitched lady squeal (only other ladies can hear it) and told her I would talk to Brian about it since "I don't know the first thing about Internets". I will continue to lie to her face when she asks me about it until she gives up and gets her own god damned Internet. Which I will in turn steal. Just cause. I'm already googling how to slow an Internet connection down.

Taking out the garbage

I was cleaning out the junk drawer when I found a crumpled up magazine page. When I opened it up I could hardly believe what it was! Before I had Bekka, I was a really well-to-do interior designer. This is one of the houses I did, and it was featured in Southern Living magazine. My client lived in Atlanta (I used to decorate homes all over the country) and she had a friend who worked for the magazine and viola! free advertising for me. Not that I really needed it, but I was so busy after that issue came out that I had to make the decision to stop doing it or expand. Brian put a baby in me, which really helped me make my "decision". I've never talked to the kids about it because I'm afraid if they ask why I don't do it anymore, I'll just start crying and won't be able to stop. For days. I should throw this away but I feel like it's place is crumpled up in the back of a drawer filled with old keys, rubber bands, fortune cookies and locks.

From Resentful Mom

From Resentful Mom

Pet Shop Boy

Cody wants a dog. He's now involved Bekka in the incessant propaganda campaign that includes whining, screaming and crying until they get one. I thought I had prepared for this by convincing them every time they sneezed that they had somehow come in contact with a dog and were therefore allergic to furry animals. But I guess when they really want something logic just gets buried in their tiny brains and their animalistic functions kick in. But what they don't know is that I have a secret weapon and it's called an unnatural ability to take pills. And I am sure my 25 day stash of Percodan will be just the thing I need to beat them at this game.

Helping Hand

So I was reading "Ask Peggy" in this month's Good Housekeeping, and I have one word to describe her advice. SUCK. As in "it sucks" and as in "she sucks". I know she is just a cog in the machine that is the Emily Post Institute, but it makes me no less furious that she is giving out crappy advice, to, no doubt, young moms who are confused and sad and on the edge of ending it all. One time Peggy told a reader that it was rude to ask for decaf at a dinner party because you could embarrass the hostess if she doesn't have any. First of all, if you're getting embarrassed because you don't have decaf coffee, you've got problems far worse than lack of beverages. Secondly, scraping the bottom of the barrel as far as reader questions are concerned. So I've decided to put this out there. If you are a resentful mom, and you have serious questions that need answers from a subjective source, send 'em to me. Rachel.Sochney@gmail.com. And I'll answer them. Honestly and without judgment. Well, maybe a little judgment.

Total Recall

The Razor Dirt Quad Cody had to have Christmas of 2006 was just recalled. I didn't understand why he wanted it. Most of his toy wants are gender neutral or lean slightly feminine, so I was shocked he wanted this rugged electric bike. We did paint it purple, per his wishes, but it still looked semi-masculine. He loves that thing. I don't know what's going to happen when I have to take it away from him in the dead of the night. The worst part of this whole thing is that when I read that the throttle malfunction can cause the vehicle to surge forward, I thought for a moment that maybe I should let him keep riding it and pretend I never read the article. This could be my ticket out. At least for now. Which is a horrible thought I know, to put your own needs to be free over a child's safety. But I did think it. I even burned the issue of Parent I read it in, to get rid of evidence that I knew. A hour later I came to my senses and loaded it into my car and took it to our storage unit until the replacement part arrived. It would be great though, to have one less kid.

Buddha Belly

Over the holidays Brian, normally a guy who is hard as a rock, put on some pounds. I wrestle with how to tell him that I can't stay in this marriage if he doesn't get his body back because I don't care for him much past the Men's Fitness exterior. I mean, let's be honest, I married Brian for his earning potential and his body. That was back when the me living in the now was making decisions that were guaranteed to ruin me in the future's day to day happiness. Brian said to me the other day that we should make an effort to make friends with a black couple because of Obama. I told him that was a great idea, but I mean, it's preposterous to make friends with people just because they're black. And insulting. Point is, he's not the brightest bulb in the basket. So I need him to look good! What I think is the best approach is to start a belittling war on his flub. I'll just point out the parts of his body I have a problem with, in a jokey, baby voice, and he will get the passive aggressive idea.

Full House

I honestly don't mind when Bekka and Cody's friends come to play. It keeps them busy and I can do things I never get to do normally, like read a magazine or sit on the couch. But Bekka has one friend, Lilly, who is just the saddest little thing I've ever seen. She is a victim of a resentful mom who is not skilled enough hide her hatred while still outwardly pretending everything is ok. It's a tough skill to master and not all of us have the complex personality needed handle such day to day dichotomies. Bekka is yelled at, spanked, grabbed by her pony tail, and God knows what else in the privacy of their home. I've seen her mom say to her "Stop yelling or mommy's going to pop you in the mouth" with such a saccharine, sarcastic delivery it gave me chills. So of course, because Lilly is so repressed at her home, she is free to do whatever she wants at ours. When her mother picks her up (always late), I feel bad for Lilly. I mean, being a mom is not for everyone, certainly not me and definitely not Lilly's mom. But when I'm watching Lilly having fun at my house, there is some satisfaction, I guess you could say it resembles what I think is motherly pride, that at the very least, Bekka won't be shooting me in the face with a 12 gauge shotgun on her 16th birthday. Lilly's mom I think, won't be that lucky.

Valentine's Day Update

This will be of no surprise to you, but this was my Valentine's Day gift. It's like I willed it to happen.

Blogworthy!

From Resentful Mom

One of the unfortunate things about being a mom is forcing myself to read "mom" magazines. One of the many I subscribe to (the more magazines you have the more you "care") is Good Housekeeping, or as I like to call it "Good Captivity". Inside each misery soaked issue I always seem to find a dumb ad to trump the dumb ad of last month. And here is February's winner. It's the laziest campaign I have ever seen. "Blogworthy"? I hope when they wrote the copy "Deli Creations Flatbread Sandwiches from Oscar Mayer are worth writing about" , they meant precisely what I am doing. Calling them out on their lazy, stupid campaign. I mean, maybe this type of lazy advertising works on some people, but I doubt those people keep blogs because they are borderline retarded. And even if the borderline retarded did get a tumblr page,they couldn't sustain a following. And so how, exactly, Advertising Agency for Oscar Mayer, is the word supposed to spread? We moms may have made mistakes in our lives, lots of mistakes, but we're not stupid.

PS. The white discoloration in the middle is where I erased the curse words I wrote on this ad.

Cel-e-brate Birth-days, C'mon!

I've started planning Bekka's birthday. It's going to be a Dora the Explorer themed party. I've done this party four years in a row now, going through the motions like a mom robot. I asked her if we could please have a Zoey 101 themed party or something else she likes and she just started crying. I don't understand why she still watches the show. It's aimed at 2-4 year olds. I have a feeling her attachment to the show somehow has something to do with her inability to conjugate future tense. She'll say things like "We will went to the store" and in my mind a tiny alarm goes off. A tiny alarm that I hit snooze on.

Pop Quiz!

I found a sex quiz on Oprah.com. I added some of my own answers since I didn't really feel all the answers they offered were applicable to me.


1. During sexual stimulation, foreplay and/or intercourse, I experience the following sexual complaints(s) (check all that apply):
a. Vaginal dryness
b. Lack of genital sensation, tingling and/or warmth with sexual arousal
c. Difficulty achieving orgasm
d. Loss of intensity of orgasm (orgasms feel muffled)
e. Genital pain either with or without sexual contact
f. Lack of sexual interest
g. None of the above
h. the inability of my husband to shape shift into a vibrator or Chris Noth.

2. I feel that my sexual complaint(s) have affected my desire for sex. (In other words, if sex weren’t painful, frustrating, or no fun, I would be more interested.)
a. I have no sexual complaints, just lack of desire
b. I agree
c. I disagree
d. I'm not sure
e. I like sex, just not in the situation I am forced to stay in. I would have sex with literally anyone else. Even an extended family member (between the ages of 21 and 43, male or female).

3. I notice that I have the same sexual difficulties with my partner as I have alone during self-stimulation or I am equally unmotivated or uninterested in self-stimulating as being sexual with my partner.
a. Yes
b. No
c. Don't know
d. Don't self-stimulate
e. I would love to self-stimulate, but Brian decided to remove all the locks on all the inside doors, even the bathrooms, because he was afraid of the kids chocking and we wouldn't be able to get to them. Therefore, I have literally no privacy.

4. There was a time when I was satisfied with my sexual response and/or interest.
a. Yes
b. No
c. Don't Know
d. I kissed a woman once in college. It was wonderful. That was exciting and so was the time I dated the catcher for our college baseball team. I liked him because he was mean to me and used to spank me in public.

5. I am presently being treated with medication and/or psychotherapy for:
a. Depression
b. Anxiety disorder
c. Any psychiatric illness
d. None of the above
e. Life sadness

6. I feel that:
a. My partner knows what to do to satisfy me sexually
b. I am comfortable giving my partner direction about how to stimulate me sexually
c. I am connected to and emotionally intimate with my partner
d. My general/sexual communication with my partner is adequate
e. None of the above
f. Not applicable; I don’t have a partner at this time
g. I give blow jobs as repayment for not working.

7. I have a history of sexual abuse or trauma.
a. Yes
b. No
c. Don't know
d. The catcher who used to spank me. Does that count? Probably not cause I like it, right?

8. If you answered yes to Question 7,
a. I never told anyone
b. I never pressed charges
c. I did not receive counseling
d. I feel this history affects my present sexual life
e. Not applicable
f. I asked for more.


9. The following conditions apply to me:
a. I have had a hysterectomy or other pelvic surgery
b.I am postmenopausal
c. I have diabetes
d. I have cardiovascular disease
e. I smoke
f. I am taking SSRIs (e.g., Zoloft or Prozac)
g. I am taking birth control pills
h. I have had one or more prolonged labor an deliveries (e.g., needed ventouse/suction)
i. I have a history of straddle injury (fell on a bicycle, balance beam, etc.)
j. I have had a back injury and/or back surgery
k. I have had a spinal cord injury
l. I have had genital circumcision
m. I have multiple sclerosis or another neurological disorder
n. I have had two or more children
o. None of the above
p. My vagina is tighter than a 15 year old's. Even though I've had two kids, it doesn't get much use.

Valentines's Day!

It's four days before valentine's Day and I pray to God that Brian does not get me another one of these this year. I hate teddy bears for a couple of reasons. Number one, I'm an adult woman. Number two, stuffed bears are creepy and I think desensitizing people to the danger of real bears is irresponsible. Number three, it's sick to make a stuffed bear imply a sexual situation. But I'm really to blame for this continuation of bear giving. Every time Brian hands me one for a special occasion, I do my best to eek out the highest pitch "Awww" I can muster without tears, then I hug him and kiss him on the cheek and when I look at him, I can see in his eyes that he actually believes me. And so the behavior continues.

Tuesday Sniffles

Tuesday, my one day of full retreat has been compromised by Cody's sickness. I can't tell if it's a cold or flu, so I took an on line quiz, which I've found is often times just as accurate as an actual doctor and I don't have to get in the car to get an answer. About.com said it's most likely a cold, which is unfortunate because the flu comes with symptoms of fatigue and achy-ness, which render a child helpless and often times unable to get out of bed. But with a cold Cody's energy level remains normal. Which means I am stuck interacting him all day. Midday I'll just give him adult Robitussin Nighttime Cold and watch as his tiny eye lids become heavy and the sleepiness overcomes him. And then I'll watch Oprah.

Eloping!

The city of New York recently unveiled new facilities for civil ceremonies. How I wish something like this was available near Maple Grove 7 years ago. Don't get me wrong, my wedding was fantastic! I had all the bridesmaids in lavender silk gowns and we had lilacs everywhere. I felt like a princess and I got all the attention! Brian was really sweet and thoughtful, and had promised not to suck the snot out of his nose and to instead blow it, and he followed through on that promise all day. The excitement of the whole event completely drowned out the absolutely unbearable mourning I was doing deep down for the loss of myself (a feeling that would surface the moment I woke up the next day). The only downside was that my mother and father were in the same room, so as soon as the bar opened they opened fire on each other. I sometimes wished they were still married so they would poison each other. Point being, if I had a place to just go and get it over with, we could have saved $40K and ended up in the same place. I could have used that money to one day to run away to Switzerland. But now I'm stuck with a secret bank account at Wells Fargo with a paltry balance of $35.08. That's all the money I made last year - off an eBay sale of some old door fixtures I found at my mom's house.

Movin' on Up!

I've been really torn on which entryway to record the kids' height progress. So torn that I've avoided it for a record 7 years (since Bekka was born). But yesterday Bekka complained, again, how we don't have one and her friend Roxy does. In my defense, Roxy's mom loves being a mom, and I don't. But today, I think I've decided that the front door frame is the place to do it. Here's what's good about that particular doorway - as soon as people walk in the house, they see instantly that we are in step with the rest of American parent's, ruining the enamel on the trim with a pencil and permanent marker.

The gift that keeps on giving!

A woman recently donated her kidney thru her vagina. Let me clear the air. Vaginas are not gateways to the body. They are an enclosed system for a reason. And that reason is to procure a living being that one day will disappoint you with their slow progress despite all your efforts to ensure they are at the very least, able to exist on the most basic level and you'll be faced with the fact that due to something outside of your control, you may be stuck caring for this person forever. That's what vaginas are for.

Old Friends

I spoke to my college roommate tonight for the first time in almost 10 years. She found me on Facebook (I now have 8 friends!) and insisted that we catch up. She's a book editor for Penguin Group and lives in the Big Apple! She said that her and her husband have been together for 7 years (he is a graphic designer for Olgivy & Mather) and they're not sure if they want to have kids. Midway through her entertaining stories about campaigning for Obama in Texas, I realized I hated her. Not because of what she did, or that she lived in a big, fun city. And not really because she didn't have kids (although I am jealous). I felt a deep, throbbing loathing for her because due to her liberal, urban existence, she could afford the thing I most wanted in life. Choices.

Whaddya Know?

I was googling "why am I mad?" and I found this story on NYT's website about how young mom's are, on average, angry at their husbands for things like not remembering dates, knowing 100% how to care for a child and other typical ways men get off easy. A lot of the comments to the story mention the moms and pose variations of the question "Why they would stay in situations that make them miserable?".I can think of a couple reasons right off the bat.

#1 I have resigned myself to this lifestyle.
I mean, if everyone thinks they'll be more miserable then the current state of affairs, that's enough for me to stick with it. Who knows what's on the other side of divorce or running away from your family? It could be wonderful, but it also could suck. I'll play it safe.

#2 Dating at 30 is hard
I much prefer fantasising about the Raiffe, the half Persion, half Irish 17 year old who lives next door. He's accessable and I didn't have to spend $80 on vodka tonics to get up the courage to talk to him. I just say whatever I want to that kid and he eats it up, and my husband is never the wiser.

#3 I don't have to try
From the moment I wake up to the moment I pretend that I am asleep to avoid Brian's sexual advances, I am on auto-pilot. The days seem to fly by when you're not contemplating why you're not able to spend three hours by yourself. Ever.

Eureka!

My vacuum cleaner broke today. I ran over some leftover from Cody's Saturday marathon ceramic swirl art session. It must be a piece of the plate he was trying to paint a dinosaur onto but when I pulled them out of the oven he would just look at it and yell "It's not right" and then throw it on the kitchen floor, watch it shatter, then calmly sit back at the ceramic swirl machine to paint another one. A large piece must have bounced into the living room. I'd never punish Cody for getting angry, because I understand how frustrating it is when things aren't going your way. He'll eventually learn that he needs to keep it inside, because people don't care about how you feel. But until then, I'll let him do it. It makes me feel closer to him. Also, he may be gay, which makes me hopeful that one day we'll be best friends.

I'm thinking of getting one of these new vacuum's. It's kind of expensive but what do I have to spend my money on? Massages? Pedicures? Anything for myself?

Monday Night, Alright!

Brian surprised me tonight and got a babysitter! Then my fella decided to make me dinner. He tried really hard, but there's a reason I passively aggressively make dinner every night. I do it better. I only mentioned once that I think he overcooked the chicken, which was hard, cause I wanted to say how inedible it was at every turn . To add insult to injury, he covered it up with a heavy homemade "spaghetti sauce"? I mean, he basically halved a yellow pepper (didn't de-seed it!), plopped it on my chicken, then poured tomato sauce on it. Should I be surprised? Brian makes bad decisions. In 10 minutes, when he looks at me in the way as if to say "i do something for you, you do something for me?", I'll do it. I'll have sex with him. I'll put out of my mind that all the bouncing and sweating, all the swishing around of peppers and tomatoes, will give me heartburn later and probably make the throw up, and I'll think about Hugh Laurie. And everything will be all right.

It's Cookie Time!

February's the month when Girl Scout Cookie sales really get goin'. They started in January but honestly, it's been so cold here in MN that I've just been buying a box a week from Bekka just so she doesn't fall behind in sales and we can stay inside, where it's warm. I personally don't eat carbs, but each week I watch as Bekka devours an entire box while watching Zoey 101. Sometimes when she laughs at the jokes, puffs of Somoa cookie shoots out of her mouth and I watch as it sinks into my Berber carpet. I've never seen an 8 year girl old look so much like a skinny guy with a beer gut. I would stop her but I like to be the thin one in our relationship.