The Bookbag

Surgically, Big Daddy and I are done having kids. It was a decision I have never regretted. In saying that, I don't think I really thought about the reality that our last little offspring would grow up someday. That day is getting closer and closer by the minute. 

Little Nutt has had speech therapy since he was 19 months old. Until very recently, he was difficult to understand so as he was turning 3, his IEP changed to include 2 weekly half-days of preschool. At a real preschool. And he will be riding in a van to get to school. And it's not Mommy behind the wheel.

I always knew this day would come and I always worried about how he would react. The advice given to me was to get him excited and tell him what a big boy he has become. Maybe even buy him a bookbag like his older brother and sister use. Easier said than done.

Today I found myself in the school supply aisle at our local Walmart as my toddler (the same one that celebrated his third birthday yesterday) paced back and forth in front of the towering wall of bookbags. He pointed to Spiderman (By-Man) and Dora (his favorite show), but finally decided on a blue backpack with Cookie Monster (Nom Nom) on it. Not only did he choose it, he insisted on wearing it to the register.

As he began his big boy march to pay for his newly acquired treasure, an older woman that had been standing in the aisle asked me how old he was. I told her and she said that she could still remember buying her youngest his first backpack. It had He-Man on it. I asked her how old he was, to which she replied, "31." The same age as me. She told me about how she cried all day until he came bounding off the bus, telling her about how much he loved school. She cried some more that night and throughout the next few days because she knew it was time to start letting go.

As I stood there with tears running down my face, I knew that was the reason I have always despised school shopping. It isn't the hassle or the cost; it is knowing that I am one year closer to having to let them go out into the world on their own. Evel used to snuggle on the couch and watch movies with me, but he is now a teenager that thinks it is embarrassing to be seen in public with me (even though I am awesome). It seems like only a year or two ago I was helping him pick out his first backpack: a light blue with no characters on it because that stuff was for little kids. I patched the bottom of it countless times because it was too big for him to wear so he drug it along behind him until the gravel finally shredded it, leaving a trail of pencils and bubble gum balls in his wake. I thanked the Heavens above when it was finally time to toss that old thing, but today I found myself wishing I still had it so I could look at it and remember him as a kid.

Evel was so brave, and I am sure Nutt will be the same. I think I am the one who needs a crash course on survivng preschool. So for the next week, I will enjoy watching my littlest man run around with his Nom Nom backpack as he calls himself Dora and try to remind myself that this is not the end of his childhood, but the beginning of his (and of his mommy's) independence. I should have bought stock in Kleenex for this one.

A Server's Guide To Proper Dining Out Etiquette

I have been either a full- or part-time server pretty much all of my working life. During that time, I have studied my customers and all of the annoying habits that come along with them, the worst of which is believing that these habits are completely acceptable. Before you worry your pretty little face that you are one of the awful customers I speak of, know that not all customers are terrible. Some are pleasant and we do enjoy serving them. It is just that the majority of diners are absolute nightmares that believe bartenders and servers are idiots that can't find another job. We are treated in that manor, even while many of us are working to put ourselves through school or earn a little extra for our families.

"Am I an asshole diner," you wonder? I am not sure, but don't worry. With my helpful guide to not being an asshole while you are dining, you too can end your offensive behavior and become one of our favorites! Keep reading to find out which side of the dime you are on.

1. First off, if there are 6 or more people in your dining party, it is a good idea to make a reservation. This avoids all of the over-exaggerated sighing and eye rolling that we see you doing while you are waiting on a table large enough to accommodate all of you. The reason the parties of two, three and four are being seated ahead of you is because we have an abundance of tables to seat them quickly. If you call ahead, there is a good chance we will have a table ready for you, too. If there is a no-call policy, you are on your own with taking a chance at getting a large table on a busy night.

2. Treat the restaurant table the same way you would treat your own dinner table. Do you let your kids smear food across your table or leave your pile of Sweet and Low packets and dust laying next to your glass at home? No? Please explain why it is acceptable to do this in a restaurant. I understand that I am getting paid to take your order, bring your food and make sure that you have a pleasant dining experience, but acting like complete pigs just because you don't have to clean up the mess is gross. If you realize you don't like something as you are chewing your food, please try to at least spit it into a napkin instead of the middle of your plate or onto the table. The server or busser that is clearing your table didn't cook the food and we don't need a visual of the offending item. Believe me, we understood your displeasure when you started bitching about it. A little consideration goes a long way.

3. Please read your coupons BEFORE you try to use them. If you cannot use them on certain days or with other promotions, your server will refuse them. Is this our decision? No. It is probably the decision of management or the owner. Do you get angry at us because we were the ones that had to tell you no? Usually. Please take a second to read the fine print or present the coupon to your server before ordering to avoid any problems. And don't leave them on the table with your payment and walk out before the server can take it. It is a dick move and your server usually has to cover the cost of the coupon if it can't be used.

4. If you think you might need something when your server asks, please speak up. We are not telepathic, nor do we know what condiments you prefer on your burger. If you don't tell us, there is a good chance you won't get what you need (with the exception of commonly used items like ketchup for fries and A-1 for steaks, just to name a few). We do not know that you like to dip your fries in mayo or use so much ranch dressing that your salad becomes a soup. So when I deliver your food and say to you, "Can I get you anything else right now," this would be the time to speak up. If you miss your chance, any good server will be back in 2-5 minutes to see how your meal is going. This is your second chance grace period in which you have been noshing for a bit and have certainly realized that you could use an extra lemon for your iced tea. Tell us now or risk going without.

5. Drink refills. Where do I even begin on this one? If there was even a chance in hell that I would ever be insane enough to open my own restaurant, I would install self-serve drink fountains at strategic intervals throughout my establishment so you can suck down as much diet coke as you want with your double cheeseburger and loaded waffle fries. While this would be ideal, it is not the case in most restaurants. Your server should be looking a your drinks as they are passing and refilling as needed, but if you suck down an entire Mt. Dew within 5 minutes of receiving it, you are probably going to have to wait for a refill or (gasp) drink the water that was brought to you as you were being greeted. If your server forgets your drinks, please politely remind them because they have probably seen your empty glass and realized that they fouled up. If your drink is forgotten twice, your server is either having a bad night or is a complete idiot. Please use your discretion before blowing up on them. Secondly, if your server comes to your table to get someone else a refill and you think you might want another drink, please let them know. There is nothing more irritating than bringing a refill only to see that someone else at that table managed to finish a drink that was 3/4 full when he or she was there a few minutes prior. Your server now has to go get another drink from the place he or she just came from. Serving is all about being efficient and this is not helping. And iced tea drinkers, we will not run out of your sweet liquid gold. I swear. You do not have to suck it down like you have just returned from a trek across the Sahara. Iced tea is a diuretic and it is hard on your kidneys. Also, the amount of sugar in sweet tea (even the house brewed kind) is way more than the amount of sugar in soda. Have fun getting your cavities filled.

6. The more special requests for the way your food is cooked, the better the chance it will come out wrong. The restaurant business is a fast-paced industry. We want to get you in, get you fed and get you on your way. When you ask for so many requests on an item that it almost becomes a different item, it can cause a snag in that pace. The server has to enter all of the modifications into a computer that may or may not have options to modify your food in the correct way. The order then goes to the kitchen staff, who may interpret all of the mods in a different way than your server entered them. Most times, someone will catch it while traying your food, but if it makes it to the table and there is a problem, please stay calm and bring it to your server's attention. A good server will rectify the problem as soon as humanly possible. We are not intentionally trying to make you eat onions on your first date. We will get you a new quesadilla.

7. You are at a restaurant, not a daycare center. The employees at the restaurant are there to feed you, not babysit your obnoxious children. The other diners are there to eat and are not equipped to defend themselves from a handful of ice cubes that have now become projectile missles because you would rather gossip about the other moms in the PTA than you would pay attention to the unacceptable behavior of your children. The reason the server hasn't been back to check on you? Your kids are assholes and so are you.

8. Just because the table beside you ordered after you, but got their food first, it does not mean your server forgot to place your order. Two medium rare steaks take less time to cook than two well done burgers. Also, some sides are prepared ahead of time and some are made to order. If you have a ton of special requests, it is going to take longer than a straight up menu item. There are a number of reasons check times can vary. If you are concerned, ask politely and your server will check for you. If your server forgot to enter your order, you can rest assured that he or she will be getting his or her ass ripped out by not only the manager, but also by the kitchen staff that now has to squeeze in another order and get it out as soon as possible.

9. Tip your server, and make sure the amount is based on the original check total, not the discounted amount. I know you were all waiting on this one, but it's something that needs to be addressed. Most servers are being paid between $2.15-$2.83 an hour. We live off of our tips. Let's do some math. If a family of two adults and two kids come in on kids eat free day and the check totals $15 after the discounts, 10% is only $1.50 and 20% is $3.00. If the check was undiscounted, it might be around $25.00. That would be a $2.50 or $5.00 tip if the percentages were the same. Every little bit counts. We still ran the same amount of food, refilled the same amount of drinks and did the same amount of work, just for less money. It is frustrating and disheartening. Also, the acceptable tip rate is now at 18%. 15% is annoying but acceptable; 10% has your server fantasizing about spitting in your next refill. And don't stiff your server. There are a lot of reasons that he is she might be having a bad night. A little bit of something goes a long way. If nothing else, surprise the shit out of them and leave them a good tip. I guarantee they will remember you.

10. Which brings me to my final tip: WE REMEMBER YOU. Oh yes, we freaking do. The way you treat your server is something that does not go unnoticed. While some customers are remembered for their generosity and politeness, it is the really awful ones that stand out in our minds. If you come in on half price burger night, make a ton of special requests and tip 5% on your half price check, your face is now burned into your server's memory. If your kids make the table look like a caged wildebeest was set loose, your server takes a mental picture of all of your faces. If you complain every time you come in to eat just so you can get a few dollars off your check, your server will recognize you. They point you out to the other servers and let them know what kind of person you are. Every server in that restaurant knows what to expect from you. Please just keep that in mind the next time you decide that you are not going to leave a tip. You may not remember us, but we sure as hell will remember you.

Election Day: An Open Letter To All Politicians

Today is Tuesday, November 6, 2012.  It is also election day.  To commemorate this occasion, I have decided to write an open letter to ALL politicians based on many opinions that I have gathered, and the opinion that I hold myself. 

Dear politicians that represent us as Americans,

Today, November 6, is Election Day, and I will be going to the polls to vote.  I feel that this is my civic duty as an American, and also as a woman because of the fight that my predecessors endured to guarantee this right to me.  While I will be voting, I will not be voting for neither Mitt Romney or President Obama.  I will be exercising my right to vote by writing in the candidate that I believe will get this country moving in the right direction.  Sadly, it is not either major party candidate.  After weeks of watching friends' posts on Facebook, listening to passing conversations that people are having about the election, and speaking to friends and neighbors, I am not the only person that believes both candidates are wrong for America.  We are caught in a "lesser of two evils" situation, and we as Americans, are not happy about it. 

I have also heard many friends express the opinion that they aren't even going to waste their time voting.  The reasons range from they don't believe that either candidate represents them to them feeling that the Electoral College really decides the election.  After discussing this with numerous people, I will say that the most common reason that people are not going to the polls is that they believe that politicians are liars.  They lie to get into the positions of power, they abuse their titles, and they do not care about Americans.  Many of the people believe that politics and our government have become a joke. 

I am 30 years old and I have always paid attention to politics.  It saddens me to see so many young people giving up on their country because of politicians that abuse their elected positions.  In the state of Pennsylvania, our lawmakers were unable to pass a budget, but still received their base salaries of $82,000, as well as all of the money spent on pensions and health coverage.  All of this while school funding (pre-K through 12th, as well as post-secondary institutions) and transportation improvements (which this state freaking needs) were slashed.  With this coming from you, the politicians, that have been elected on the promises that you will make our state, as well as America, a better place.  No wonder young Americans think you are a joke. 

Another thing that I have noticed is the inability for many to cross party lines.  Our Republican run House of Representatives has promised numerous times to stall bills that our Democratic president has created in favor of their Republican version of the same bill.  Why not work together to come to a compromise?  Both sides are so unbelievably stubborn and unable to work together that nothing is getting done.  Why not listen to the American people and work toward what they want instead of having a pissing contest with each other?  Not everything in life is black or white (or should I say red or blue).

The final point that I would like to make to all politicians out there is that I believe many of you have forgotten the meaning and points made in the United States Constitution and Bill of Rights, as well as decisions by the Supreme Court that enforce these rights.  We are guaranteed the right to bear arms, so please limit your gun control laws.  We are guaranteed the right to privacy, so please understand that also includes the right to decide what I do with my body without government interference.  We are guaranteed the absolute freedom of religion, and in order for the right to be guaranteed to all citizens, church and state must be separate and no specific religion must be endorsed by our governmental leaders (I REALLY think that many politicians have forgotten this little tidbit).  Finally, I am guaranteed the freedom of speech, which means I am able to write you this letter to tell you what an absolutely horrid job you (most of you, Dem or Rep) are doing with this country.

While I know I am one person with an opinion that many others will not share, I felt that you as politicians should know that I still believe there are a few of you out there that honestly care about the Constitution and the Bill of Rights that our forefathers wrote to protect the rights and liberties of the good people of this country.  I will continue to research and listen during every election so that I many be able to find you and vote for you, even if I am told by everyone that I am throwing my vote away on a write-in that I know will not win.   I have faith in this country and I will continue to exercise my right to vote at every opportunity possible, even if people say that it isn't going to make a difference.

Sincerely,
The Feral Mommy

The Patients Are Running the Asylum

It is said that on All Hallow's Eve, the veil between the living and the dead is at it's thinnest.  I completely believe it because I am almost certain that my children have been possessed by some kind of monsters or demons today.  And we are supposed to drag them around and have them beg for candy to add to the sugar high? Hell no. NOT. FREAKING. HAPPENING.

So far my youngest has colored all over himself and the couch (that I just cleaned) with pink highlighter, and then ripped his diaper off and peed in the Yard Sale Box.  I'd say the value of the items in there has pretty much depreciated about as far as it can go without them being set on fire.  Instead of helping contain the insanity that is my toddler, Tink has been feeding it to him with a shovel. 

"Let's kick the ball!"  (She forgot to add, "into Mom's jade plants!")

"Wanna play with the horsey?" ("And swing it around until we wipe out half of the items on the desk?")

I think there is some kind of exchange of words that takes place in a frequency that can only be heard by other children that are in hellfire mode.  They plot out the attack, morph into little evil, sanity-sucking monsters and berate their parents with shot after shot until we are left a quivering mass on the bathroom floor, all the while listening to the little scratching of fingernails on the door, trying to get in and finish the job.  I hear that sound in my nightmares sometimes. 

Normally I would discipline and time out until I exorcised the demons and my wonderful children returned.  Today is not normal.  Mommy is handing control of the asylum over to the patients.  I am going to finish dinner, confiscate the remote and watch and episode of "Parenthood" on Netflix, and fantasize about how wonderful it would be to solve all of our problems in an hour. 

About that time Daddy should be home to deal with it, and Mommy can have a cocktail. 

Frankenstorm

For those of you that don't know, I live on an island (okay, it's more like a peninsula) along the Susquehanna River.  It's a quiet little neighborhood nestled along the river, with beautiful views and soil so fertile it grows tomatoes from the seeds of rotten ones that you ask your kid to throw in the compost bin, but in his laziness, he just tosses them into the garden.  Sounds perfect, huh?  I thought the same thing until last September when we met our first Isle of Que flooding.

Apparently with living on an island along the river comes flooding.  We found this out when Hurricane Irene tore up the East Coast and was followed by Tropical Storm Lee, that just shuffled along, dumping inches and inches of rain all over the state of Pennsylvania.  We went from expecting it to get up to our doors, but not into the house to getting a call from our landlord telling us that we might have 4 feet of water on our first floor. Shit. Shit. Shit.

With having no flood insurance, we started moving everything that we could carry upstairs and putting everything else up as high as we could get it. We woke up early the next morning to continue the process and were joined by Big Daddy's friend and my mom and sister.  The water was rising slowly so Big Daddy, my mom and BD's friend took our car and the kayaks out to the storage area.  In the half hour that they were gone, the water rose two feet and went from just covering our sidewalk to lapping at our door stoop, threatening to come in.  I was alone in the house with Nutt, Evel and Trid (my 13 y.o. sister), and I had to get them to safety.  I gave them each a life jacket, grabbed Nutt and we started wading through the foot and a half of river that was now covering our sidewalk.  We made it to the alley at the mid-point of our block and to higher ground, but that was the most terrifying 10 minutes of my life.  To say that water rises quickly is an understatement.  In the half hour that it took Big Daddy, the water came up so quickly that my mom almost lost her SUV and if we didn't have the lift on the Suburban (which I had previously called stupid and unnecessary), we would have lost it along with the camper that was about to become our home for the next seven weeks.  To say I had a stressful day would be an understatement.

The last shot of our little house before we left.  Helpless is the only word to describe it.

Side note here:  IF YOU ARE TOLD TO EVACUATE, GET THE HELL OUT.  Stuff is just stuff.  There will be people around to give you new stuff. Trust me, I know. I cannot begin to tell you how terrified I was while trying to get those kids through the water, and I would have never forgiven myself if something would have happened to any of them. I did A LOT of bargaining with God during this time. Hindsight is 20/20.  Just. Get. Out.

Anyway, we wound up with 25 inches of water on our first floor.  We lost our bedroom set, a desk, the kitchen table set and a few other things (like the hot tub that we had just installed and never got to use).  We gained mud.  So much effing mud.  And flood mud smells so different than regular earthy mud.  This is a bitter, acrid stink that clings to everything it touches.  It is mud that is mixed with oil and gasoline and anything else that it washed over and picked up along the way.  And there were inches of it in my freaking house and it was touching all of my stuff.  I felt so dirty and violated. 

The carpet was blue 72 hours earlier.

Found the hot tub in a farmer's field about a half mile from our house. It's still there is anyone wants it.

With the arrival of mud came the worst part...the cleaning.  I hate cleaning more than almost anything, especially mopping the floors.  We mopped, we hosed, we squeegeed and there was STILL MUD.  EVERYWHERE.  To this day (a year later), I still find it when I'm cleaning.  This stuff is oil based and nasty.  We ripped all of the carpet out and replaced the drywall from 36 inches down, but I still catch a whiff every now and then and my stomach feels like I had one too many shots of tequila. I flood is something I would not wish on my worst enemy and definitely not something I had ever hoped to do again.  That is why we bought a new house.  A house that was supposed to be ours on October 26, but had a shit tank too close to the drinking water for us to get the loan.  A house that should now be our on November 9, which is a week too late to avoid Frankenstorm.

My thoughts on cleaning.  Give me a Natty Light and leave me the Hell alone.

The items that people lost.  The dumpster in front of our house filled up so it wound up piling up on our sidewalk.

Effing Frankenstorm.  Apparently this monster is shaping up to be a doosie.  Hurricane Sandy is going to meet up with a storm coming down from the north and cause all kinds of havoc on the East Coast.  It's a slow moving storm that is going to hang around for about a week and offer up gale force winds, possibly snow and torrential downpours of rain.  Lots and lots of freaking rain.  What I've learned from Tropical Storm Lee is that slow moving storms with rain are the ones that brings flooding.  Lots and lots of flooding.  Shit. Shit. Shit. Again. 

The thing that is really getting to me is the anticipation.  I just want it to get here so we can get it over with.  Let it rain, let it snow, but please God, do not let it flood.  For the sake of my (and my family's) sanity, do not make me have to buy all new underwear again because the flood mud got it's hand all over the ones I already own.  While we have flood insurance this time around, I don't think I can handle living in a camper with my older kids and the wiser posteriors they've gained since last year.  So I will sit and twiddle my thumbs and try not to freak out until this monster gimps up on us.  What I wouldn't give for an angry mob with burning torches to send this bastard back to Hell right about now.

No Critics?

I know that I have not always been the nicest person when it comes to my views on others:  I think elderly people are dangerous when operating any kind of motorized vehicle (shopping carts included), I cannot stand to see overweight kids eating fast food and I loathe litterbugs to the point that I've followed one across a parking lot to hand her the candy bar wrapper she tossed on the ground.  But the one place that I have never been judgmental is the gym.  I don't care if you are 10 or 100 pounds overweight (or not overweight at all)...if you took the initiative to go to a gym to get yourself into better shape, I will commend you on your efforts (plus the gym policy kind of forbids me from being critical of others).  So imagine my surprise when two snarky bitches were critical of ME (for the second time) this morning. 

We'll call these girls Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Asshat (TD and TA, respectively).  TD and TA are regulars in the gym that I attend, so I have never questioned their motives.  Sure, I see them walking 1.5 miles per hour on the treadmill down the row from me so they can chat and play Angry Birds on their phones, but I've never questioned it because they are still doing laps around everyone that is at home in bed.  I've also never said anything when they sit on the machines before, between and after their reps to gossip about TA's ex and his new girlfriend (who also attends the same gym at approximately the same time in the morning as TD, TA and myself).

I've seen these girls laughing at bigger people on treadmills and whispering about older people lifting weights.  I've even seen them talking about me.  Not once, but twice.  I have no idea why.  Maybe it's the sweat that is dripping out of every single pore on my body or the occasional grunt that slips out when I'm on my 11th or 12th rep.  I don't really know, but it bothers me.  I am there to exercise and get in shape, not to gossip with one of my friends about people that are in worse shape than me, which by the way, BOTH of these girls are.  If I walk out of the gym looking just as pretty as I did when I walked in, then I didn't work hard enough.

So today I said something.  I asked if there was a problem.  They both kind of looked at me and rolled their eyes.  I just smiled sweetly and told them that since there was no problem, maybe the needed to ask me something, like for exercise pointers (I believe my exact words were something along the lines of, "Maybe I can show you how to stop gossiping and exercise?").  I got the look of death, more eye rolls and two very bitchy answers of, "No thanks." I shrugged and walked away.  I can only imagine what was said as I headed over to the big girl machines. I'm currently waiting for my phone to ring to tell me that my workout card has been revoked.

Even if it is, I think I made the right decision.  To go to a gym to sit around and laugh at people that are trying to better themselves says to me that you are unhappy with yourself.  Maybe if you weren't so miserable, your ex wouldn't be with the cute little blonde that sweats just as much as me when she is at the gym.  Maybe if you actually busted your ass a little, you might look a bit more like that cute little blonde.  But to sit around and make jokes about other people while you are taking up machines that these people use to benefit themselves is a waste of time and money.  Trade your high horse for an exercise bike and USE IT.  I will not be ashamed for doing what that place was created for, and I will not be pressured into being uncomfortable by two little crones that don't understand that high school is over.  Most importantly, go sell bitchy somewhere else, we're all stocked up here.

Am I the only one experiencing this in adulthood, too???  

Please Vote!

It's time to shamelessly plug my cousin's kids.  They've entered into a Halloween contest in the hopes of winning an iPad 2 or a 4 pack of tickets to a local haunted attraction.  Please take a minute to go vote for them and pass this on.  They've had a really rough year after their father was killed in a work accident.  Any little bit of sunshine would really help them.  Thanks everyone!  Please remember to pass this link on to anyone and everyone!