It's A Schmitty Life

Whooooo Are You? Who? Who?

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 15:55:00 +0000

The young boy jumped out of the tree he was climbing. He walked past the small crowd of people who were huddled under the awning. They were trying to stay dry from the rain as they smoked their cigarettes.

"Hi!" He heard the man say.

"Hi!" He answered back.

"What's your name?"

"It's W."

"Well, how are you, W.?" He smiled at the boy.

"Good."

"Who's your mom?" The man questioned.

"Um....your daughter."

Yup, that my friends, was a scene from my nephew's birthday party a few weeks ago. I did not know that my father was going to be attending.

Actually, no one did.

The invitation was extended, by my brother, after a few failed attempts to visit with my father. My father was NEVER good at keeping promises. So, really, who would have thought that he'd show up for his grandson's first birthday.

SURPRISE!

I haven't seen him in quite a few years. Probably since my daughter was born and he graced us with his presence at the hospital. He stayed his usual eight to ten minutes. And that was that.

When I heard he had called and was on his way, the old knot in my stomach tightened. He came in and I saw how old he had gotten. I could see the alcohol had finally caught with him. He's only 67 years old, but the years of self abuse were apparent.

He smiled and spoke in his loud, "Is everyone looking at me" voice. He was still as pompous as ever. I think I rolled my eyes.

My children were all around me and I whispered in each of their ears, "That is your Grandfather Jim." I hated using the word Grandfather. As far as I'm concerned, their Grandfather is, sadly, in heaven. My father-in-law, who loved them dearly, is the only man my children should call Grandpa.

For about an hour, while joined in conversations, of which he was included, he never spoke directly to me or to my children.

I began to fume. I texted back and forth with Mr. Schmitty, who was at work. I told him that the FUCKER couldn't even acknowledge us!

Then I heard the howling laughter from my brother. He proceeded to tell me the story of my son and my father out by the tree. We both shared a laugh, we always could bond over funny, ridiculous dad stories.

Laughter....I guess it IS the best medicine for a very, VERY sad situation.

PG Should Stand For "PLEASE GETMEOUTTAHERE"!

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 12:38:00 +0000

My oldest son, W., has gotten hooked on reruns of the television show Malcolm In The Middle. I had never seen the show before and only knew that it was a comedy. The IMDb (Internet Movie Database) lists it's plot as: "A gifted young teen tries to survive with his dimwitted, dysfunctional family".

I really had no idea that there was a sitcom based on our family. I might as well scrap that script. Heh.

Okay, back to my story. So, W. has been using the DVR to record his new favorite show. He watches episodes every chance he gets. He asked me to sit with him a few times and I must say, I do find it pretty funny. But I'm sure you're not surprised, as I do have the sense of humor of a twelve year old boy.

The mom on the show, Lois, is my hero. The way she whips those boys into shape; I find her inspiring. And as I take notes on ways to torment my own offspring, I can see the wheels turning in their heads. They too are mentally recording new ways to torture me as they watch the Wilkerson boys wreak havoc.

It's family fun for all!

Now, this show is rated PG. A few TV appropriate cuss words are randomly thrown out. I think this is one of the appealing factors for my son. At his age, cuss words rule! There is also some sexual innuendo at times. Nothing too risqué, mostly parental kissing and such. Most of it just disgusts my boys, which in turn, adds to my amusement.

Last night we were watching an episode which involved Malcom's nasty, evil grandmother. The family was rushing grandma out the door, on the way to the airport, after an apparently LONG visit. She slipped on a leaf and fell. The old bitty then hired a lawyer so she could sue her own daughter. In the same day, Lois finds out she is pregnant again and screams, "WE CAN'T EVEN AFFORD THE ONES WE HAVE!!"

Lois approaches her mother, convinced her mom will do the right thing, and drop the lawsuit. She tells her she is having another child and that they can barely get by as it is. The grandmother agrees that this new development changes everything.

"You should settle!" She exclaims.

"WHAT?!!" Lois cries.

"It's not my fault you can't keep your legs closed!" She shoots back.

"What does that mean?" W. inquired.

My eyes got big. I was sure that would have gone completely over his head. I looked to Mr. Schmitty. The expression on his face told me that he'd be absolutely no help.

I opened my mouth to say, well, I have no idea what. I kind of just stammered.

"Mom, tell me! What does settle mean?"

I practically fell off my chair laughing!!!

Trick or Treat, Smell My Feet!

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 04:01:00 +0000

Happy Halloween Everyone!!

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

I Don't Write, I Don't Comment, I Don't Read....Yet, You Still Love Me!

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 13:54:00 +0000

I have been missing from the Blogosphere lately. I haven't written in over two weeks. I haven't answered emails and I haven't returned comments. I haven't read blogs. Well, except for Cake Wrecks, Craftastrophe, and People of Walmart, 'cause I like looking at the pictures, and they are as funny as hell.

Now, I could lie and say that I've been in the Witness Protection Program after blowing the whistle on these companies for ripping us off.

I could say that I damaged my typing finger on my keyboard trying to hit the, now absent, letter B (thanks kids!). And you might just believe me because I do like to use the words Bitch and Bastard a lot, so the letter B is essential to my existence.

I could say my addiction has gotten the best of me and I had to begin outpatient treatment right after I managed my Cafe and tended to my Farm.

But none of those explanations are the reason I have been scarce around here. The real reason is....my mind has gas. Major, MAJOR gas. I have been having nothing but brain farts and quite honestly, it's not pretty. I can barely form a complete sentence. Life has been flying by at supersonic speed just dealing with the kids and THEIR lives. Because as you know, being a parent, I don't have one of my own.

And maybe it is this missing B button too....it's really pissing me off. May*e I'll stop using it all together.

Anywho.

Even though I have *een missing....you all STILL love me. You do, you really, REALLY do! I've received two awards in my a*sence.

First is from a girl I wish I knew IRL. I wished she lived in my neigh*orhood. I think we might *e really, REALLY great friends. It is the wonderful and *eautiful *aloney from That's *aloney! She has *estowed onto me this *est Blog Award! Thank you!!

Next is Krystal from Tap That Mom. I do *elieve she and I are long lost sisters. We seem to have the same sense of humor and try to laugh at the craziness of raising kids. She has given me the Spreader of Love Award. Thank you sweetie!

Now, to spare you an awfully long post today, I will *e passing on these awards tomorrow. Plus then I actually have something else to write about. Heh.

Thanks again my lovelies!! MUAH!

*insert the letter that comes after A and *efore C at each asterisk.

Disgruntled Consumer

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 16:10:00 +0000

As my kids are growing, so are their appetites. I have 3 skinny kids and really didn't think they ate a lot. But as the groceries seem to dwindle at a rapid pace, I am now realizing that yes, they ARE little piggies. Either that, or I'm eating in my sleep.

Heh.

If you take a look at my checkbook, other than bill entries, you mostly see: "Wegmans", "Foodtown", "Wegmans", "Wegmans", etc., etc. We are constantly taking trips to the food store.

Quite honestly, it's breaking the bank.

I've been trying different ideas to cut back on the expense. I buy store brand items, whenever possible. Most products from Wegmans are great, some not so much. I try something new every trip to see if it will pass the taste test with my kids. If it does, it makes onto the list, permanently.

I also have been taking their snacks and breaking them down into snack bags. I purchase the store brand, snack sized, ziploc baggies and place one serving size in each. Though time consuming, I have to say, that since doing this, I see that snacks last a LOT longer. The kids no longer sit in front of the tv with a bag of pretzels and polish it off. The mindless eating was spoiling their real meals and costing me a fortune. The snack bag actually fills them; the bag empties and they are done. It's SO worth the effort!

Can I get an Amen?

This morning I took a large box of Goldfish and a bag of Teddy Grahams and looked at the label. I actually counted out each serving and filled as many bags as I could. I then placed them in a plastic basket in the snack cabinet.

That's when I noticed something. According to the Teddy Grahams box I should have had 10 servings. The Goldfish box should have had 32.

They ripped me off! I was a serving short on bears and 4 servings off on Goldfish. Now I understand that some of the food gets crushed in the box. There were a few pieces of the graham crackers in the bottom of the bag and quite a big of the Goldfish. BUT....not THAT much was mashed.

How long have I been gypped? Think about how that adds up over the years.

Shame on you Pepperidge Farms and Nabisco! How about some FREE coupons?

He Waltzed Right Into It

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 11:13:00 +0000

Mr. Schmitty and I got into bed the other night, exhausted. That's what happens when you stay up too late; one on the computer playing Bejeweled and the other playing war games on Xbox.

Anyway, I rolled over, in the dark, to give him a kiss goodnight. I was met with the most puckered up lips I have ever encountered.

"That was like kissing an asshole!" I snorted hysterically.

"You've kissed an asshole alot?" He chuckled back.

"Everyday of my life, dear, everyday.of.my.life."

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Mr. Schmitty took the chocolate ice cream from the freezer. I then watched him take a large serving spoon from the kitchen drawer. He popped the lid off of the container and scooped out a large mound of ice cream. He proceeded to eat it right off the spoon as he put the container back into the freezer.

"That's all you are going to have?" I asked the ice cream fiend.

"Yup!" He mumbled through his apparent blissful moment.

"I see you keep doing that lately. I can't believe that's all you are having," I said as I watched him enjoy the last of the melting goodness.

"I'm just having enough to curb my craving," he said as he placed the spoon in the sink.

He turned toward me and I lifted my shirt. I flashed my freshly unleashed girls at him.

"There! That should have curbed any cravings you might have!" I exclaimed as I turned and walked away.

September Has Thrown Me Into A Tizzy

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 09:42:00 +0000

So yea, I'm feeling a bit like a chicken with no head these days. I'm missing the lazy days of summer because since school started, I feel like I'm somewhat out of sync. Our routine is beginning to come together, but we just aren't quite there yet. Actually, I'm not quite there.

I'm feeling a tad overwhelmed.

Three kids in school, one still only half days. Getting up early and starting the day with no one getting out of bed and, "Eat, get dressed, brush your teeth, move it, MOVE IT, MOOOOOVE IT!" Making lunches, paperwork, homework, paperwork, tests, paperwork, projects, and more freaking paperwork!

I'm also watching a classmate of R.'s, two days a week. I'm doing so just for a little extra cash, because honestly, we can use it. VERY sadly, I've closed shop on my business, Doodle Kids®. I couldn't justify the expense any longer. It was the hardest decision to make. I worked SO hard on it for five years. Since the economy has taken a nosedive, my business just wasn't making it. I'm heartbroken. I hope to take a different approach with it in the future, but I'll need to regroup and revamp.

In the meantime, I wish there were a way for me to make some extra cash from home. I know ALL of those work from home opportunities are scams...but sometimes, they just look so tempting. Is anyone out there legitimate anymore? sigh.

I have taken on a school project. I have decided to chair a new program our school is participating in. It's the PTA Reflections contest. It is a national arts competition and I think it's fantastic! If your school doesn't do this, here is a link to their website.

The arts are extremely important to me. I feel they don't get their fair share in our children's education. This program tries to encourage children to express themselves through their art. I was so excited to learn that our elementary school would be involved in this.

As it's our first year, I will be the guinea pig. I'll be finding out how to make it work. What to do and how to do it. It's a big chunk of pie on my plate. I'm thinking, once I get the hang of it, it's going to be so rewarding. This is so up my alley.

But first? I need to weed through it all.....and find that darned head of mine.

Take Us Back In Time Tuesday - 9/22/09

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 04:00:00 +0000

I have THE most adorable picture for you this week! I was so excited to share it with you, my dear readers. It is one of my most favorite of photos.

I went to my special photo album. I flipped through it's pages, ever so carefully. "Ah-Ha! There it is!" I shouted out loud.

I carefully removed the image from it's protective sleeve, making sure to hold only the edges, so as to avoid smudges and fingerprints.

But then I remembered this article.

So, unfortunately, this is all you're getting.......

Seriously, Walmart? WTF?!
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Well, That Didn't Take Long!

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 00:09:00 +0000

I received R.'s first phone call home from the teacher. Already. Yup, I knew the day would come, I just didn't expect it to be so soon.

R., though very feisty, can also be quite the scaredy cat. She can be clingy with me when faced with a new situation or with new people. Once she sees that she is safe, she warms up quite quickly. But until the thaw has begun? She wants no part of anything.

A prime example was Kindergarten orientation. She cried. She clung. She refused to go to school. When the children lined up with their new teacher to be taken on a tour, she begged for me to go. I walked along with her to her classroom and stopped at the door. She went right in and that was that. She came back skipping and waving.

She continued going to school every day with a smile on her face. Then on Thursday, R. got the rug pulled out from underneath her tiny body.

The teacher's voicemail explained that a new student had joined their class and R. became extremely upset.

My brow furrowed.

Mrs. C. said that R. was crying and saying that she did not want this new student in their class. She wouldn't eat her snack. "She's quite the stubborn little thing!" The teacher went on to say.

"SEE?! No one believes me!" I thought to myself. That petite, sweet angel. Yea, until you piss her off!

Apparently, the teacher got a load of my darling daughter's willpower. She wouldn't stand to say the Pledge of Allegiance and glared at the teacher when she told her to get up. She didn't want to go to gym class. She didn't want to participate in circle time. She didn't want to budge from her chair.

She was petrified of this new child and how a monkey wrench was thrown into her now comfortable existence in Kindergarten.

When she came home from school we discussed what had happened. She is very perceptive and understood everything that we talked about. The conversation went very well and I was convinced that everything had been smoothed over.

The next morning she awoke happily, bounced down the stairs, and plopped on the couch. I told her she needed to get dressed for school.

"Oh, I'm not going to school today," she answered.

"Um, yes, you are," I replied.

"Will HE be there?"

"Of course."

"Then I'm not going. Someone was absent yesterday. So you can be absent. I am going to be absent today."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I knew the next hour was going to be a nightmare but I also found it quite amusing that she had figured this all out. I dug my heels in and after a small battle we headed out the door to school.

I had written the teacher a note and told her that I would actually be in the school for about an hour that day for Library duty. If she needed me, I had my cell phone.

I must have checked that cell phone a few dozen times. No calls.

Upon picking her up, R. came out, with a huge grin on her face. I got a thumbs up from Mrs. C. and I stopped holding my breath.

R. pointed to a rather large boy in the line of children. "That's him mommy. He's nice."

I looked over and it became perfectly clear to me WHY R. had been so shaken up. This child was the size of a 2nd grader. He towered over R. and reminded me of a very young Moose from the Archie comics.

Maybe she can hire him as her bodyguard, that way she'll ALWAYS feel safe!

Why Do The Girls Always Get The Crappy End Of The Deal?

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 10:17:00 +0000

I was helping R. get ready for school the other day. She was tired and not very motivated. I grabbed her clothes and told her I would help her get dressed.

"Why are you getting me dressed?" She asked.

"Well, you seem to need a little help this morning."

She began to wiggle and be less than cooperative as I tried to put her dress over her head.

"C'mon R.! Mommy's getting too old for this!"

She giggled.

"That's funny?" I giggled back. "Will you let me come live with you when I'm really old?"

"Yes, mommy!!"

"You might have to help ME get dressed." I said.

"I will!"

Suddenly I heard T. shout from his bedroom, "Mom, you can come live with me!"

"Awwwww!" I thought to myself. My boy loves his mama!

"Really, T.? I can? You'll take care of me? Make me dinner? Take me to doctor's appointments? Help me find my teeth?"

He laughed and said, "YES!!"

"You'll even change my diaper?"

Silence.

"You know what? You can go live with R."

Take Us Back In Time Tuesday - 9/15/09

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 14:55:00 +0000

I was 20 years old when I first saw the man I wanted to make babies with. The year was 1987. I was instantly enamored with his chiseled good looks. His voice made me swoon. And when he took off his shirt to reveal that body.

shiver.

This week's Take Us Back In Time Tuesday photo is not my own. But I strongly feel it is appropriate.

Patrick Wayne Swayze
August 18, 1952 - September 14, 2009

This is the man that stole my heart during his performance in the movie Dirty Dancing. "Johnny" was THE sexiest man I had ever laid my eyes on.

I fell even harder when he took up pottery in 1990's Ghost. I cry every time I watch that movie.

Patrick Swayze was my heartthrob and yesterday, he was taken away. My prayers are with his wife and family.

"The love inside, you take it with you"

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In Memory - September 11, 2001

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 16:37:00 +0000

We have come to the 8th year since that fateful day. That is more years, than two of my children, have celebrated birthdays. And like on the days that they were born, I remember ever minute detail, as though it were yesterday.

I wrote about what I was doing when I heard the news. You can read that post here.

My heart always feels heavy on this day. I feel sorrow for those that were lost and the families that lost them. That day changed many of the ways I look at things. It changed me.

I had a hard time dealing with the aftermath, as many Americans did. I was paranoid. I was scared. I had been trying to conceive my second child and now, I wasn't so sure I wanted to proceed. Did I want to bring another child into this world?

I didn't know what to do with myself. I needed to work through it. As I am a creative person by nature, I began to search for photos on the Internet. I then compiled them into a photo memorial that I set to music.

The first time I watched it in it's entirety, I cried. And cried.

I released my pent up anxiety. And then I got pissed. I wasn't going to let them win. I pulled up my Granny panties and flipped them the finger.

I now watch my video every year on this date. I have saved copies for my children. I would like to share it with you.

(YouTube wouldn't allow me to upload it as one video. I have broken it down into each section. I also want to apologize for the quality.)

Part 1 shows the devastation of that day; the reactions and the mourning. It also shows how the world banded together to offer support.

Part 2 is a memorial of many of the lives lost.

Part 3 is a montage of artwork from children. Through this art and their eyes you can see how September 11 affected them. (Again, I apologize as the music is a bit shaky.)

And finally, Part 4 is a dedication to all of the Police, Firemen, Military, and Medical Personnel that risked their lives to do what they do best.

We Will Never Forget!

Studying Woes

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 13:43:00 +0000

It's only one week into the new school year and I'm frazzled. W. has now entered the 6th grade. He's playing with the big kids now.

W. is naturally smart. He received 4 A's and 1 B as his average grades, in his primary subjects, last year. He didn't put in a whole lot of effort. I did...but he, unfortunately isn't one to go above and beyond. If it's not fun, he doesn't want to do it.

Studying and homework can be a battle.

It's frustrating because with even the slightest bit of elbow grease, he'd really do exceptionally well. But his philosophy has been, "Why bother? I do well enough this way."

And yes, he does. I'm not a stickler for grades. I, of course, want my children to do well. This world requires that if you want to live comfortably in adulthood. But I am not one to insist on straight A's or face my wrath. I just want you to do the best that you can.

And I know he CAN do better. He CAN break a sweat once in a while. Because everything comes to him so easily, he's gotten lazy. I try to explain to him that he needs to improve his work ethic because though he has done well in the past, as he progresses through middle school, things are going to get harder. Things may not come as easily to him. He may actually have to....shall I say the word....STUDY!

Gasp!

The work load has increased tremendously. He already has four quizzes on the schedule. FOUR! I spent last night making up mock tests (on www.easytestmaker.com - great site!). I don't mind helping him prepare but how much is too much? I already went through school and I feel like I'm doing it again.

Do any of you have middle school or older kids? I'm going through this for the first time. Does anyone have any studying advice?

I have to figure something out....I've got to do this two more times!!! I'm not sure my heart can take it.

Take Us Back In Time Tuesday - 9/8/09

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 10:26:00 +0000

Today I'm going to take you back one year. As most moms do, I take pictures of my children on their first day of school.

Now mind you, they usually aren't the best shots. It's hard to stand still and smile when you are a bundle of happy, excited, anxious nerves.

I know, as I grab my camera, that I'll only be able to fire off two clicks. For each of them. If I'm lucky.

So, here is W., T., and R. (in that order) on the first day of 5th grade, Kindergarten, and Preschool, respectively, for the 2008-2009 school year.

After they all left for school, I made a huge mistake. I uploaded their new photos into my computer and compared them to the above photos.

WHERE.THE.HELL.DID.MY.BABIES.GO?!!!!

I wanted to cry. Alright, so maybe I did...just a little. So WHAT?!!! You got a problem with that?!

Ahem.

But would you look at him?! He's gone from a cute little boy to more of a...a....young MAN!! *sniff.

And he's gotten so much taller. *sniff. sniff.

AND OH NO!!! My baby girl isn't so much a baby anymore. WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!

I can't believe what 365 days will do. Instead of Taking You Back In Time, I wish I could just pause it for a while.

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Say 'Ello to My Little Friend

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 04:24:00 +0000

R. can NOT keep a secret. This comes in quite handy for me, as I can't always be the fly on the wall, watching all that my children do.

I can always count on my daughter to spill the beans because she likes to talk and talk and talk.

Our best friends have a set of twins that are six years old. The boy, L. and my T. are the closest of buddies. And the girl, S., and R. are BFFL.

Recently, out of the blue, R. said to me, "Mom, did you know that L.'s best friend is his weinis?"

"WHAT?!"

"Yes, his best friend is his weinis! S. told me so!"

Oh boy.

"What made S. say that?"

"Yesterday she asked L. to show me and T. his best friend......."

OH.GOD.HERE.IT.COMES

"....and he pulled down his zipper and showed us his weinis!"

She then giggled.

Fantastic.

So, I had the privacy talk with T. and R. again. I tried not to make a big deal out of it because I know kids are just being kids. They thought it was funny. They were kind of right.

But now I had to tell my best friend.

"E. now don't get upset, I don't want you to freak out......" I then told her the story.

Her mouth dropped open and she fell back onto her bed. She was shell shocked.

I laughed and told her it was perfectly normal. She has three daughters and only one son. I've been telling her for years that boys and girls are entirely different. She never believed me.

I think she does now.

Kleptomania Is Not Necessarily Hereditary

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 17:41:00 +0000

When I was about ten or eleven years old, I got caught shoplifting. I know, I KNOW, I hear your gasps.

My parents were not the type to buy something for you, "Just Because". Unless it was your birthday or Christmas, you didn't even THINK to ask my dad for an item in a store. You kept your mouth shut.

One day, there I was, browsing the make-up counter at JCPenney, when a shiny, pink lip gloss caught my eye. I had no money. I knew pops wouldn't spring for it. And I really, really NEEDED it. What was a preteen girl to do?

I looked around, I'm sure in a completely obvious fashion, and cupped that lovely tube of beauty in my hand. It fit perfectly and it didn't even look like I had anything in my hand!!

Then I did what any normal girl would do, I waltzed out of the store with my grandma, brother, sister, and parents acting as though I didn't have a care in the world.

Can you say, "STOOOOOOOPID?!!"

You should have seen the look on my grandma's face when a security guard grabbed my arm and then hers. "Ma'am is the child with you?!"

Long story short, I was in BIIIIIG trouble.

I was reminded of this moment in my life yesterday. I took W. to Staples to drop a load of cash on some school supplies. While I was waiting on the checkout line, that was about eleventy-hundred people deep, with a thousand ton shopping basket digging into my already bruising arm, he walked up with a handful of markers.

"Mom, can I get these?"

"No." I answered. I had been adding his supplies in my head and wasn't even sure if I had enough money for them. I certainly wasn't going to add nonessentials to my basket.

"PLEEEEEEASE?!" He begged.

They were the kind of markers that are in a display. The ones that are sold individually. The ones that probably cost about $4.99 EACH. I think he had about eight of them in his greedy little mitts.

"NO! Please put them back where you found them."

My mind flashed back to me at his age.

"Oh, No He'd better NOT!" I thought to myself.

I looked around the store. Half of the people from our town were walking around with their own supply lists . I stood there and imagined what kind of scene that would be! We'd have to move. Change our names........

W. came back and stood on line with me. I stared at him. My eyes bore holes in his flesh. I tried to see if he showed any signs of stress. I looked down at his pockets to see if they were bulging at all.

"Did you put them back?" I asked, almost accusingly.

"Yea."

"Where you found them?"

"Yea, mom."

I was skeptical.

As we were paying, a lady walked through the exit doors. The alarm went off because the cashier forgot to deactivate that little thingy they put on large ticket items.

I started to sweat. My thoughts raced in my head, "That's going to be us isn't it? The whole town will think I'm a bad mother!"

As we went through the exit doors, I winced.

And because I can't let anything go, I turned to W. and said, "You put those markers back, right? They aren't in your pocket or anything, RIGHT?!"

He looked at me like I was the freak that I am and said, "Yea, mom! I wouldn't do that! Besides that alarm would have gone off if I did!"

Heh.

You keep fearing that alarm, baby....FEAR IT!

Take Us Back In Time Tuesday - 9/1/09

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 01:13:00 +0000

This week's Take Us Back In Time Tuesday post is not one photo, but a series of photos. This montage will reveal the type of child my baby brother was. It also explains a LOT about the man he has become.

The photo below was taken on Easter of 1980. Please note the identical dresses my sister, K. (on the left) and I are wearing. We are only eleven months apart, my mother dressed us as though we were twins. My sister always got pink. I always got blue. I guess I was too much of a tomboy to wear pink.

When I first looked at this photo, I wondered how long my parents made us squint in the sun. How many shots did it take to get this one image?

Look at the poor boy's expression! The glare is so bright he can't even keep his eyes open!

In the same album, I came across another photo. Once again, my siblings and I are outside posing, this time for my sister's 8th grade graduation. The sun seems to be behind the clouds. I consider this a good thing. I think if the sun HAD been out that day, those flowers on my sister's ~~slipcover~~ ~~comforter~~ dress would have bloomed right off of her.

So, an overcast day and YET? Still THAT face. You can almost hear him saying, "Cheeeeeese!"

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Dear God,

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 14:22:00 +0000

I know that you and I haven't always been close. I don't have to remind you of the issues I had with you when I was a kid. You know, the whole, where are you when I need you, thing. But then again, I guess I can't complain, seeing as what your own son gave up for us and all.

Though I have questioned your existence periodically, in my heart, I do think you are out there. It's just difficult to comprehend at times, when there are so many bad things in the world. So much hurt. So much anger. But, belief in you must also bring belief in evil, I suppose.

And I know that I don't attend church very often. Some will find fault with me for that. But I have my reasons and none really have anything to do with you. I've never felt comfortable in the institution of my faith. Something never seemed quite right.

I talk to you. I thank you. I praise you. I just don't find the need to do so in a building. Only you could understand my innermost thoughts and you can do that no matter where I am. Plus, no one but YOU needs to judge me or my convictions, right?

At least no one should.

I wonder if that is why I am reluctant to participate in a weekly gathering of souls. Or perhaps there is a deeper, more profound meaning. Could it be the fact, that since a child, I never saw myself as worthy. How could you love me when it seemed that no one else did?

I had a sense of not belonging in many aspects of my life. I have endured my fair share of betrayals from those who should have kept me safe; from those that held my heart. Did I deserve what I got? Am I not the good person I sought to be?

I step back and look around me. Yes, I have had to battle much in my life. I've come through each and every one. Stronger. Smarter. More grateful.

I have a great life. A wonderful husband and fantastic kids.

I KNOW I'm a good person. And yes, bad things DO happen to good people. I hope that one day, Karma will come full circle and bless my family and I with good fortune.

Sincerely,

Mrs. S.

P.S. FYI - The Mega Millions Jackpot is THREE HUNDRED TWENTY-FIVE MILLION DOLLARS. In case you forgot or something. thnxkbai.

The Dangers of Texting While Driving

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 03:34:00 +0000

My husband's cousin posted this video on Facebook tonight. WOW. Talk about a reality check. My children are between 6 to 12 years from getting their driver's licenses. I'm hoping by then we have cars with automatic pilots.

I do have young cousins, nieces, and a nephew that I worry about; not to mention all of the adults in my life that own and operate a cell phone while driving.

Every driver should see this, especially teenagers. It is very graphic and is recommended for 18 and older but if they wait till 18 to see it, they may not reach 18.

Parents may want to watch this by themselves first, but then, PLEASE do so with your kids. Explain to them that if they HAVE TO phone or text, pull over and stop in a SAFE location first, THEN use the phone.

Please remember this video before you answer that next text message while driving.

The Funny That Keeps Me Going

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 19:44:00 +0000

"Grrrrrrr! Spongebob is a HOOOOORRRIBLE driver!!" R. yelled from the computer room.

I poked my head in to see her sitting at the television.

"SPONGEBOB!!! No wonder you can't get your license!!!" she continued.

I couldn't believe how angry she was getting at a cartoon show.

I walked downstairs and saw that she was not, as I thought, watching Nickelodeon.

"MOM! Spongebob is a reeeeealllly bad driver! He keeps bumping into things and he won't stop!" she practically screamed as she manipulated the Playstation controller.

I didn't have the heart to tell her that she was the one MAKING Spongebob crash.

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"Mom, isn't Freddy Kruger ugly without his mask on?" T. asked me.

"Freddy Kruger doesn't wear a mask," I responded, wondering where he heard about the bad guy from Nightmare on Elm Street.

"Yes, he does. You know, the hockey mask," he countered.

I rolled my eyes, I love that his older brother lets him play with him and his friends, but I sometimes hate the things he hears from them. I don't even let my kids watch Scooby-Doo late at night because they are such scaredy cats.

"No, that's Jason," I said, not really understanding why I was engaging in this conversation.

"Who is Jason?"

"Maybe you mean the all white mask, then that would be Mike Meyers."

"Oh, the white mask with the big, black eyes and mouth?"

"No, that's from Scream."

"Scream?"

"Never mind, this is getting too complicated."

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I was getting dressed after my shower and suddenly the bathroom door opened. As usual with my daughter, I can't even have fifteen minutes of peace.

I had my back to her and was putting on my underwear. Before I could react and ask her to give me some privacy she blurted out, "Mommy! Your butt is so crump-elie!!!"

Yea, well, just you wait until you get cellulite!

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And my love, the dork, strikes again. What you are seeing here is R.'s melted Popsicle that she was sucking on to sooth her strep throat. I wanted a picture of it because I thought it looked like a heart. I showed Mr. Schmitty and his response?

"Oh Look! It's Pop He(ART)!"

Ugh.

And I'll Cry If I Want To

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 03:09:00 +0000

Warning: If you didn't come here to partake in my party of pity, you may want to excuse yourself and leave. Please leave any alcohol you may have brought with you, I am going to need it and don't feel like leaving my ~~cave~~ home to get my own.

So, let's see, where to start....hmmmm. Well, as some of you might have noticed, I haven't blogged in over a week. I missed my Take Us Back In Time Tuesday post yesterday. The one you see there? Last week's post.

I'm not sure exactly what is wrong with me, as of late. I think I might be depressed. Again.

Yea, I've been through this before. I'm usually the anxiety type of girl. I tend to run with panic attacks more than the blues. But depression has visited me in the past, so, I am aware of my current state.

I haven't blogged much, because quite honestly, I just haven't felt like it. I haven't done much of anything in the past few weeks. I closed my business temporarily, in June. I can't come to a decision if I should reopen. I look at projects that I've wanted to do and then turn and walk away. I pick up books and magazines and then put them right back down again.

I pretty much meander around my house and then sit at the computer to stare blankly at Facebook. I don't go out much. The kids play with their friends and I hang around and watch them.

Even when I've ventured out, it's because I've MADE myself go. I plaster a smile on my face and just do it. But inside my thoughts, I want to go home, to be left alone.

I'm feeling weak. I can't stand feeling weak.

I have a great life. There are people I know going through so much worse than I right now. I should just shut the hell up and put on my big girl drawers.

But I can't seem to.

I think my sudden mood swing is a combination of burdens. The normal, day-to-day pressures that are weighing me down. The kids, money, the house, marriage, my business. You know, just LIFE.

I'm upset with myself. I so desperately want to lose weight. I saw photos of myself from this past weekend and was so utterly disgusted with what I saw.

I cried.

But as it sometimes goes, momma is the last to get attention. By the time I take care of everyone and everything else, I'm spent. I don't have the time or energy to focus on ME.

Living with PCOS and PMDD is making the journey that much harder. PCOS causes excess weight gain that is more difficult to take off. I need to eat properly and exercise more. The insulin resistance issues of the PCOS means I should eat six small meals a day. I'm lucky if I get one and then I wind up eating junk late at night when the kids go to bed. Horrible for my type of metabolism. I also can't take the Metformin medication, which can help with the weight problem, because I experience negative side effects. When on the pills, I was a zombie for six weeks.

I don't sleep well, which is caused by my PMDD. I toss and turn all night long and usually wake exhausted. Throw in an average day as a mom with three kids, a dog, a cat, a husband, and a house to wrangle, and there is NO WAY I'm going to jump on a treadmill too.

I'm feeling like....WTF!

I don't seem to know how to get all of these things under control. Instead, I'm shutting down.

Take Us Back In Time Tuesday - 8/11/09

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 02:15:00 +0000

The year was 1989. The sleeping beauty? Mr. Schmitty. We were both 22 and best friends.

ONLY.

I remember this weekend, clearly. I am quite surprised I can recall it so well. There was mucho alcohol consumed, which I'm sure, accounted for a major loss of brain cells.

You probably are thinking this is just a picture of a sleeping man. Au contraire! You see, the story behind this photo is what you DON'T see. It is what is beyond the borders. It's also what the slumbering Mr. Schmitty has yet to experience.

I was house sitting for my friend. N.'s family lived in another state and she would periodically ask me to stay at her house and take care of her dog. Seriously, what 22 year old wouldn't?

And because we were friends, she knew that I'd have parties. Hell, she encouraged them! So, this particular night, Mr. Schmitty and I had gone to a wedding together. Like I said, as FRIENDS ONLY. When we came back to N.'s house, there was a mob waiting for us on the front porch.

We partied well into the morning hours. If I were able to enlarge the photo, you'd see the remnants of bottles and cans, as well as pizza boxes and chip bags. The place was a mess! Thank goodness N. wasn't much of a housekeeper back then.

While most of the party goers ~~passed out~~ fell ~~down~~ asleep in the living room, Mr. Schmitty retreated to a bed, like a normal person. I told you he was a dork.

Now, this is where the real fun begins. He heard the door to the bedroom open. He looked up to see a very drunk friend of ours. As said friend staggered in, he muttered something about the bathroom. Before Mr. Schmitty could tell him that it was the next room over....can you guess what happened?

Uh-huh.

The drunken fool began to pee all over the comforter. Thankfully for my future husband he was on the other side of the bed and was able to stay dry.

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Dear American Idol

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 13:37:00 +0000

My husband and I went to the 2009 concert tour on Saturday night. We are both big fans of your show and tuned in when you debuted on June 11, 2002. Since then we have watched every season, been to numerous tour concerts, and have much of each season's music uploaded to our iPods.

You might say we are hooked.

I have loved that this is a show I can watch with my kids. They sometimes like to judge the performances themselves and pick their favorites to win.

My oldest son has even attended a past concert with me. I also look forward to taking him and my younger children to future shows.

Well, I WAS looking forward to it, until Saturday night.

Most of the night was wonderful. The singers were great and my husband and I were enjoying ourselves.

Next up was Adam Lambert. Now, I am not a huge fan of his. He's just not my cup of tea. I believe he is more of a Broadway type singer than an American Idol. I think his singing ability is fantastic, but he is just too over the top for me.

Apparently, by the way the audience reacted, I am a minority. He has a very large following. I was curious to see how he would be live. He began his act singing "Whole Lotta Love" by Led Zeppelin. He did not disappoint with his voice. I must admit his voice is amazing!

He is very much the showman. His performance was quite theatrical and entertaining. That is until he, in my opinion, crossed the line.

Is it really necessary, with an audience loaded with children, tweens, and teens, for a grown man to grab his package? And to make matters worse, did he have to follow that up with having the mic stand between his legs and then stroking it upward while singing, "I'm Gonna Give You My Love"?

It was an exaggerated gesture. Intentional. And quite honestly, disgusting.

I'm far from a prude...but SERIOUSLY? WTF?! He should be ashamed of himself. Actually the whole production should be.

I find it very disturbing that he would be allowed to act in such a sexual way. Isn't he representing a show that is watched by many FAMILIES?

Not cool American Idol, NOT cool at all.

False Advertising

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 22:48:00 +0000

I keep reading about the health benefits of omega-3 essential fatty acids, DHA (docosahexaenoic acid) and EPA (eicosapentaenoic acid). In other words, fish.

These omega-3's found in fish and fish oils are being said to help the developing brains of children. There are also claims that they help in behavior issues, such as; ADHD and OCD. In adults, cold-water species of fish, such as salmon, halibut and tuna can help prevent neurodegenerative diseases. It's also great for the heart!

We don't eat a lot of fish. For one reason, right now, it's extremely expensive. The second? I'm not a huge lover of it and neither are my kids.

We enjoy the occasional flounder. We've even tried wild turbot. But frankly, that's about it.

But who doesn't want a smart kid? And I would definitely like a hand in the ADHD tendencies that my oldest exhibits. Also, I ain't getting any younger...so keeping the old ticker beating is really a priority for me.

Plus, I sometimes fall for the current hype or trend. Remember the fat free stage? Yea, my insulin resistance thanks me for all the extra sugar that one provided.

Anyway, while at the store the other day, I went down the vitamin aisle. I found a bottle of children's Gummy Fish packed with Omega-3's. In big, BOLD letters it announced, "NO FISHY TASTE!" and "KIDS WILL LOVE THE FRUIT FLAVORS!" I then found a similar bottle for nutritionally challenged adults.

I was excited. We'll get healthy one way or another, dammit!! And my kids will be geniuses to boot!

I sat at the dining room table with the kid's Gummy Multivitamins, that they love, and the new bottle of pure magic. I wanted them to take the fish pill first, in case they weren't as delicious as the multivitamin.

Curious, T. and R. flanked either side of me. I smiled and opened the bottle. I popped my thumb through the protective seal and......

OH MY LORD!! The smell from the bottle assaulted my sinuses as though I had been sucker punched in the nose. My head flew back with such force I thought I might need a neck brace.

I recovered as quickly as I could and smiled. "Here T., take this first and then the other!" He's like Mikey the Life Cereal kid. I knew I could use him as a guinea pig.

He popped it in his mouth and chewed. He made a bit of a face and said, "It tastes a little weird." But he seemed to shrug it off. "I'll take W.'s to him." He grabbed another and ran downstairs to his brother.

A few seconds later I heard, "EWWWWW!", feet running to the bathroom, and then, "PPPFTT!" as it was spit into the garbage can.

Shit.

I looked at R. She's not as trusting as her brothers. Or as gullible. Her eyes all but shouted, "NO WAY!"

"Here you go, honey, here is yours," I said enthusiastically.

The crocodile tears began. "NOOoOooooO!" She whined.

"Look baby, I have some too!!" I plucked up my bottled, held it away from my nose, and opened it. "Let's take ours together!"

"You first!" She countered.

I looked in the bottle, took one out and placed it in my mouth. I began to chew....HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!!! I started to chug my Diet Pepsi that was on the table. I gulped the putrid piece of nastiness down. The soda was not helping. The little sucker stuck in my throat and slowly made its way down into my stomach.

It tasted like ass. I would have rather have puked in my mouth than eat another.

I threw the bottles straight into the trash.

I looked at R. she looked quite pleased with herself. I'm thinking this chick really might not need any DHA. She's smart enough.

Take Us Back In Time Tuesday - 8/4/09

aschmittylife@aol.com (Mrs. Schmitty) — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 12:59:00 +0000

This is the house I grew up in. It is a duplex, one of the few, in a town consisting of mostly the rich and privileged. We lived on the side with the yellow Chevette in the driveway.

When I was searching through my photos for this weeks post, I couldn't decide which smiling face or happy memory to write about.

I flipped a page in my album and wondered what I was searching for. Suddenly, this photo jumped out at me. But not in a good way. It caused a knot in my chest. I felt somewhat short of breath. It was an unexpected reaction but so strong that I kept looking.

It was as though the photo was calling out to me. It was an eerie feeling. It felt dark.

Most of you might look at this house and say, "Oh, how nice, Mrs. Schmitty's childhood home." Please do not call it a home. It was not.

What I see in my mind, when I look at this house, is a childhood of sadness, of violence, of abuse. I see a mother and three children who walked on eggshells around an unpredictable man.

I look at those shaded windows on the second floor and my throat tightens. That's how we lived. Closed up from the outside so our pain was never seen by the world. No one ever came in. And when we wandered out, those shades were drawn in our souls. For me, it took a long time for anyone to be let in there.

As I look around me now, I am just realizing; the first thing I do every morning is to pull up the shades, tie back the curtains, and open the front door. I let the sun and the outside spill in to brighten my home.

Because yes, this is my home.

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