A polite exchange

It's been a while, not because of a lack of anything to write about -- I couldn't figure out what my password was for this account. I finally took some time tonight to go through the myriad of email addresses and passwords that use for various sites. Why tonight? I have a story that's hot off the presses.

This email exchange with my dear MIL transpired just tonight.

From her: Hi, hope you are all well. i left a message at your home regarding "Cars sheets" for XXX, i have finally found them and i wanted to make sure that you are ok with me sending them to XXX. i did talk to XXX about this but wanted to check with you. thanks for letting me know. MIL

From me: hi MIL, sorry to get back to you so late on this. we appreciate the time you took to find him some car sheets, but i think we'll pass on them. he has enough linens for his bed now and we don't really have space to store anything extra. thank you anyway! sunny

From her: Hi XXX, I am sorry too, it is so sad that the simplest things we want to do for XXX seem to be denied. Don't you have old sheets for XXX that could be replaced? He was so excited to hear about Car sheets. MIL

I know I'm a big bitch for saying 'no' to Cars sheets for XXX, and I will be the first to admit that it is the bitchier of the two options (the other being to lie and say "great, send them up"). If XXX had mentioned Cars sheets to me, even once, I probably would have relented, but the last thing we need in this house is more crap that he doesn't give a shit about.

But frankly, it's more on principle than anything else. She emailed me to ask if it was okay and I answered honestly, and believe I told her 'thanks but no thanks' in the nicest way possible.

In addition, I looked online and I found two different versions, both of which are super ugly and are a cotton/poly blend (yuck!).

She pulls this shit all the time. She'll tell XXX she is going to mail him some cookies and then asks me if it's okay. At that point, what can I say? Then she sends up three dozen crappy cookies, of which we only give Lucas one or two, eat some and throw the rest away.

I'm crafting up my response now. Here are my options.

Polite: I'm sorry, you should have told me what the right answer was.

Not-so-polite: I guess I misunderstood your email. I thought you were asking me if it was okay and I gave you an honest answer. But if you're going to send them anyway, please shut your piehole and stop "asking" me.

What I really want to say: Actually, I think it's so sad that I can't answer a question from you honestly. If you don't want my opinion, don't waste my time by making me read an email if you're just going to do what you want anyway. This makes it so clear to me that you are a sick woman and need some serious therapy.

I'm sure I will end up sending something similar to the "not-so-polite" version. The good thing about this is that it will probably delay a visit from the beast.

If you have suggestions on how to respond, please let me know. If you think I'm a total bitch for not acting thrilled and asking her to send them up, you shouldn't be reading this blog.

Where is my MIL?

Just like a game of Where's Waldo, some people may wonder where my beloved MIL has been these past few months.

Basically, she is "punishing" us, by not calling or visiting. It's on account of an email I wrote to her that said, "Please take me off your spam list."

Why? Why did I do this? Good question. Here are my answers:

- She annoys me to no end. So when I see any email from her, it fills me with dread.
- She cc's all, instead of bcc'ing like a normal person.
- She sends the lamest emails, "Amber alert!! A girl has gone missing in San Bernadino County. She has brown hair and is wearing jeans. Have you seen her? If you see her, call the police. Please pass this to 50 people you know, so little Juliette can be found and can come home."
- She, a Republican, knows I am NOT a Republican, but will send me emails asking for me to sign some petition to keep Bush in office, or something equally inane.

But the straw that broke this camel's back was one of these political emails. She sent out an email that was akin to this (btw, she didn't write the email, just forwarded it from one of her friends):

My parents worked for more than 60 years, mom as a nurse and dad as a baker. They were American citizens, they paid taxes, they went through all the legal channels to get things done. They did what they could just to get food on the table for me and my siblings.

Now these immigrants are coming from all these other countries. They shop at Nordstrom and The Gap and chat away on their cell phones. They don't pay taxes. My parents paid taxes their whole lives and never once bought anything extravagant for themselves....[more bullshit]. America is for Americans. God bless America!

I was livid! It took every ounce of restraint to not email her what I really wanted to say:

Your parents came from Europe, did you know that's not in North America? That means they were immigrants too, so shut your pie hole! Take me off your stupid spam email list. For that matter, don't send me any more personal emails and please remove my cell phone number from your memory card or I will get my number changed.

The woman is either trying to insult me, or she's too stupid to know that an email like that is offensive to me (and to her for that matter). What do you think?

5 things you don't know, about people you don't know

Only Deb rose to the challenge and actually posted about the 5 things people don't know about her to her blog.

However, a few other people just emailed me those 5 things, not wanting to post them to their blogs for all to read. Here are the top three that surprised me (omitting names to protect the innocent).

- i was into porn when i was pregnant, but haven't been at all interested in it otherwise before/since.
- i still have a doll that i had as a child. my husband thinks it's creepy and asked me to throw it away a long time ago, i agreed, but didn't go through with it. i keep it in a special box in my closet that he doesn't know about.
- i cheated on my HS spanish final and got caught. i convinced my teacher not to fail me or tell my parents.

Another mom's advice on tantrums

This is what one of my friend's emailed me about how she deals with her daughter's tantrums. I had asked for her advice, since I had recently locked myself in the bathroom to get away from my tantrum-stricken son. Her advice is not only comical, but also very useful.

here's my plan: i try to ignore it for a few minutes because i dont want to get into it with her, but if she's really out of control (screaming loudly or throwing herself around), i *calmly* pick her up and say, "you need a time out until you can calm down. let's go to your room." then i take her into her room and throw her vigorously --oh sorry, that's just what i want to do -- i take her into her room and place her gently onto her bed and keep her there. she always tries to run away. we just sit there as along as it takes for her to calm down, usually with me returning her to her bed every few seconds. usually she calms down enough to leave her room in about a minute or two. i don't talk to her during that time except to keep repeating from time to time, "you're a big girl, you can calm yourself down. i know you can do it."

the rule is (and she has been advised of the rule beforehand), i will stay with her if she doesn't hit or kick or throw anything at me. if she hits me, kicks me or throws anything at me, i *calmly* get up and say YOU LITTLE BIOTCH! -- oh no, that's just what I want to say. I calmly and zen-ly say, "You kicked me. That means you have to spend 1 minute in your room by yourself." we put a hook and eye on her door for this very purpose. i leave and and i have my stopwatch and i set it for one minute. she screams BM (bloody murder) for the entire time. then i go back and say, are you ready to calm down and cooperate? if not, and there's no H, K, or T, i sit with her. if she H, K or T again, i say, "ok, you kicked me again. i'll see you in 2 minutes." and so on. the very first time we did this, she got a 1 minute time out, a 2 minute time out and a 4 minute time out!

since i started this plan, the tantrums were reduced by about 75% almost immediately, and the hitting, kicking and throwing by about 95%. not measured scientifically of course. nowadays, she probably gets one time out every two weeks and only very briefly. i haven't had to lock her in her room for about 3 weeks? sometimes in the morning, she will throw out a foot at me sort of half-heartedly and i will ignore it because i think she's just trying to get a rise out of me. if i say nothing, she seems sort of baffled into submission. but if she really deliberately hits or throws, i immediately lock her up in the dungeon! :)

don't know if you wanted all that info, but there it is. locking yourself in the bathroom is probably just as good and a hell of a lot simpler.

Another blog??

Now that my mother-in-law is an avid reader of my other blog I feel restricted on what I can post since I know she will read it. She also sends me frequent emails about my posts -- mostly just trying to start conversations that I don't feel like having with her, but sometimes weird comments and judgments on my posts.

This used to be my blog where I vented about her. But I've repositioned it to post other things I don't want her reading. Things from my dark side.

5 things you don't know about me

I was tagged by my friend Whitney to post 5 things you may not know about me to my blog. Here goes:

1. I believe I missed true calling as an FBI agent. If it weren't for having to use a gun, I might have really gone for it.

2. I sometimes take a swig of maple syrup if I need a quick sugar high.

3. I lost my virginity on a 3-day high school field trip to Yosemite.

4. I have experimented with drugs, ranging from ether to cocaine. But I have never once puffed on a cigarette.

5. In high school my friend and I found a penpal through LA Weekly. He was in prison for murder. We corresponded with him for several months, under the alias "Ashley".

What are the 5 things I don't know about you? You may be tagged next!

My MIL - the drama queen

"Making a mountain out of a molehill," that's one thing my MIL does really really well. She's like a child in so many ways, but especially in this way. Like when our son first started walking, she was convinced he needed leg braces because he walked funny... HELLO?? All babies walk funny, like drunken little Frankensteins.

Anyway, my husband decided to have out-patient hip surgery to alleviate chronic back pain. He decided not to tell his mom till after the surgery, because she can be so dramatic and she wouldn't jinx it. Unfortunately, I screwed up on the timing and leaked it onto our family blog the day after surgery because my husband said he was going to tell his parents that day. I posted, she read it, and the following email exchange ensued:

MIL - Hope your back surgery went well. We hope you are feeling better. How sad for all of us that we had to hear about on a blog. We wish we could be closer to you.

Husband - No need for guilt and drama I did not tell anyone did not want to jinx it. Have a fantastic trip! Also you never called me back? (My husband left her a message to tell her). You should call someone after they have surgery.

MIL: what a dick.

Husband: LOL

MIL: not really "lol". it is sad to me that honest feelings are viewed as "drama and guilt". i am soooo tired of the stress of trying to talk to you and be close to you.

Husband: Haha more drama and guilt, just makes me want to pick up the phone.

Classic! My husband is the greatest!

Remembering the Crocodile Hunter

I'm still feeling the repercussions of my MIL's visit over Labor Day weekend, which was the weekend the Crocodile Hunter was killed.

Our son spent the night in the hotel with them. The next night we had an interesting conversation.

Vito: Mommy, there was this guy, the Alligator Man. He was swimming in the ocean and a sting ray poked him in the chest. The stinger went all the way through his heart. They called the paramedics but it was too late. He was already dead.

Me: Who told you this?

Vito: Grandma Gertie.

That night and the new two nights, and every once in a while since then, Vito has really expressed lots of sadness over the thought of death. He's now filled with questions, like "Are you gonna die? Am I gonna die? Who's going to take care of me when you and Daddy die?"

I mean, does a 3-year-old really need to know the graphic details surrounding the death of a man he never knew about in the first place?

Once again, thanks Gertie!