I'm a Smart One

To the person who found my blog by Googling...

Why on Earth would you have assholes for kids? I'm sure you could find plenty of other things that are more appropriate to have for kids. You could have toys and games and books for kids. A nutritolicious lunch, perhaps, with high fiber and no trans fats and a double dose of calcium would definitely be good for kids. But assholes for kids - nuh uh - those won't work. They won't play with them, and I can guarantee you that they won't eat them.

Now if, in fact, what you really meant by your inquiry was "What to do when my kids are assholes," that's an entirely different thing. And oh so not special. Whose kids aren't assholes? That's what the whole business of being a kid is about! Even the brainy, mild-tempered, cheek-pinchable darlings have random, mad streaks of assholishness here and there.

One day you might be having a lovely chat with your mother-in-law over a cuppa tea. You look up just in time to see your two-year old whiz through the kitchen at warp speed with the string of condoms she found nestled between the mattresses, and she's whipping them overhead like a latex, ribbed-for-pleasure lasso. Only an asshole would do something like that.

Maybe you've taken your children to an all-day high school marching band competition. Your oldest son is just over three and he's thrilled with having reigned his bowels under his control. At his request, you've trekked down the bleachers four times in the past thirty minutes to take him to go potty. Twenty minutes go by without another pee break, so you settle back to observe the current show, assured that your son is now content to play a few rows below you with his twin sister. As the next performance begins - a fiery Latin show - you glance down for a kidcheck and realize that your son is now halfway down the bleachers. The company front of trumpets and other high brass instruments are wailing fortissimo con fuego, so you yell to be heard above them - "Son! Get your butt back up here!" He stops in his tracks and as if on cue, the band hits a sforzando, bringing their blast to a sudden shushed pianissimo. In that quiet moment, your son answers your yell with one of his own - "BUT MOM, I GOTTA GO POOP!" The dance team and parent chaperones sitting in the surrounding bleachers erupt in hand-covered giggles as they turn and look up, and you can only sink your head into your knees. Ass. Hole.

Or, you're in the local mega-mart-with-a-capital-W, accompanied by your 5-year old daughter. You're in the hair care section selecting new barrettes for her when further down the aisle, she pipes up and says, "You should by a box of this perm because your hair is kinda nappy." Everyone within earshot casts glances in your direction, obviously assessing that yes, your hair is quite overdue for a straightening relaxer. Need I say it? Assssshole.

It could be that your other son - the one they call angelic - has suddenly refused to remove his own clothing even though he is nearly four and is more than capable of doing it himself. He moans in agony, wails, and sobs until snot runs in slippery streams down his lips and chin. He scream-choke-cries himself into hyperventilation. He follows you around the house at a tortured snail's pace until you relent and remove his clothing for him. He's playing you. This continues for three weeks and only comes to an end after you devised and enacted a plan to break him of these ridiculous tantrums. Should it have come to this in the first place? No - but he's a kid, and that makes him an asshole. A stubborn one, at that.

So you think your kids are assholes. So what? It's inherent in children's nature to have asshole tendencies. They don't know any better. Don't act like you don't remember being an asshole yourself. Parenting is all about how to extract said assholishness and shape your children into...well...non-assholes. 

Look - I don't really believe that children are assholes (most of them, anyway). The reality is that parenting is tough. Gird your loins tough. No matter how much you prepare yourself for it, you end up still flying by the seat of your pants with not much more to go on than a wing and a prayer. It's a challenge and they the are challengers. So when things get so tough that you start wondering if you're raising your children to be assholes, just remember that no one said it would be easy. You are not alone. 

One last thing - you've seen Nanny 911 or Supernanny, yes? If your kids act like those kids, I regret to inform you that the kids are not assholes. You are. Grow a set and get control, or else one day you might find your children Googling "what to do if you have assholes for parents."

Somewhere Over the Rainbow - Yellow

by Mommy Lady ~ guest writer  (Kym's introduction to this series of guest posts is here)

The color yellow is vibrant in itself being close to the color of the sun. Yellow also means something bright and happy and the usage of this color is know to bring about a proper clarity of thought in a persons mind and also improve the decision making skills.

Happy Feelings in the air!  Our song, my song, your song. Frankie Beverly and Maze was singing it when they told me I was pregnant with you. Your name, Soncera (Sun-See-A-Ray), means "ray of light." You were my light in a time of darkness and profound sadness because I lost my first child before I knew I was even pregnant.  A month later I was getting a checkup and they told me I was pregnant!  Happy feelings in the air, indeed!

I called my mother and the first thing out of her mouth was, “You’re not coming home with a baby; your sister is already here and pregnant!”  I wanted to tell her my good news because one of the last conversations we had before I went to Korea was a discussion about doctor telling me that I would probably never carry a baby full term because of all of the things that weren’t right with my baby-making equipment.   

For starters, my uterus is tilted backwards, I have a low hormone count which brought about irregular ovulation cycles, and to top all of that off, a weak uterine lining that would make it near impossible to carry full term.  As the doctor put it: “There is a slim to none chance an embryo can attach to a strong part of the lining. The odds are too great that you will miscarry repeatedly.” 

Well, dammit - I bet those odds not once, but three times. Each time it was difficult and I had major problems carrying each of you and as I look back at those times, I am amazed at what a woman is willing to and does go through to have a baby against the odds.  Before and after each of you, I had miscarriages; four in all to be exact.  We didn’t have the medical technology 30 years ago that we do today; therefore, I believed what the good doctor said. She was only telling me the truth as it was. 

You were my happy feeling, my light out of the darkness. I refused to take any medication in sickness because I wanted to make sure there would not be any problems.  I dressed you in yellow a lot.  You called it “lellow”.  Happy smiles for all that you met was the way you were as a baby. You knew few strangers and when you did have a negative reaction to someone, they were disliked by me automatically. I knew even then that you could feel or maybe even see a person’s aura. 

You made decisions that I thought were insane. Your decision to marry Frank at such an early age scared me because I felt you hadn’t experienced life yet, before being “tied down” in marriage. 

When you first told me you wanted to be a surrogate I didn’t understand it until we had “the talk” and you told me why you felt you needed to do it.  I understood, accepted it and supported you all the way.  The fears I had were no less than if you were carrying my grandchild. 

Some of your decisions created some of my most intense moments of unrest.  Like your decision to go to GSU. Though you ended up not going, that one was a killer to me because you were so young. I saw visions of you in the mist of wild parties, wild sex, and if they had “Girls Gone Wild” I would have been thinking someone would call me one day to say, “Guess who I saw on a DVD today?”  Not that I didn’t trust you per se, but I just remembered what I did in the name of sowing my wild oats. 

When you were younger, you made decisions that I knew were wacky but I respected them - like having a snapping turtle for a pet (yes, I know I found him but you kept him), like the bag of frogs in the living room when I came home from work, or the decision to get a chemistry set rather than a new doll.  Let’s see, there was the time you decided you wanted to chew the same piece of gum for months just to see how long you could keep it.  Ugh!

Most importantly, you have made decisions that have really changed the lives of others. They were done with clarity and at times it meant self sacrifice.  I admire and respect you above and beyond how most mothers respect their daughters.  You are and will always be my real first ray of light in a world that seemed so dark to me at times.

 

Dorothy: Come on, Toto! Oh, what'll I do? If we go home, they'll send you to the sheriff, and if we don't, Aunt Em may --well, she may die! I know what I'll do - I'll give you to Hunk.

 

Cowardly Lion:  All right, I'll go in there for Dorothy. Wicked Witch or no Wicked Witch, guards or no guards, I'll tear them apart. I may not come out alive, but I'm going in there.

 

The Wizard of Oz: I hereby decree that until what time -- if any --that I return, the Scarecrow, by virtue of his highly superior brains, shall rule in my stead...assisted by the Tin Man, by virtue of his magnificent heart...and the Lion -- by virtue of his courage!

 

Somewhere Over the Rainbow - Orange

by Mommy Lady ~ guest writer  (Kym's introduction to this series of guest posts is here)

Orange: intellectual ambition or stubbornness and the vision of possibilities

Even as a child I felt you had an old spirit and soul. You were not the average from birth on. You didn’t cry a lot when you were a baby. You said in your post that at the age of 8 you realized the power of words; that was when it was apparent to you. But to me, at the age of 4 you wanted to read and you fast became an avid reader. 

You have always seemed to just know things, to sense and feel them.  In the “sense” and quest for knowledge you marched to your own drummer. Some of your teachers saw that and because they felt it was the best thing to do, they had you in a group of one that further alienated you from your peers at that time.  Even then, you did not conform to what your peers wanted you to be; you saw the possibilities of who you were and could become.  It was difficult and I had to allow you to make the journey though I hurt to see you go through it.  That time in your life helped shape you.  It made you stronger, believe it or not, and it has taught you many lessons.

You see the possibilities in giving the gift of live to those that are trying so hard to do so.  You are not limited in what you’ve been willing to put yourself through because of “possibility”. 

You have gone above and beyond someone your age has.  Yes, I had to use the proverbial boot, and I know you compare what I did to you to what I don’t do to Chanel. But consider this---I did it because I knew in my heart of hearts that you were capable to go beyond where you thought you could when you gave conscience thought to it.  You are two different people.  I being the Great and Powerful Mommy Lady knew you would not fail yourself.  I knew that once you got that push, you would fly… and fly you did! 

You were rather stubborn at times and yes, I had to give the "shortest distance between two lines” speech in order for you to talk to me about what was going on, but once you accepted it and we acted on it, look at what you’ve accomplished as a result.

You've earned not one, but two graduate degrees.  Yeah, yeah -  I often wondered about the lack of common sense you seemed to have at times. We would joke and say, “If you only had a brain” when you had one of your “now I get it - French Class moments!” over something everyone else saw immediately as a solution.

You have a stubborn streak that puts you into tenacious overdrive when you have a goal and a belief in something, but you also know when to say, "I cannot change this thing; therefore, I must accept it." 

As I said before when you first graduated high school - “there was a method to my madness." I refused to allow you not to become who the gods and Powers That Be wanted you to become as I guided you to adulthood.

The Wizard: They have one thing you haven't got: a diploma. Therefore, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Universitartus Committiartum E Pluribus Unum, I hereby confer upon you the honorary degree of ThD.
Scarecrow: ThD? 

The Wizard: That's... Doctor of Thinkology.

Scarecrow: The sum of the square roots of any two sides of an isosceles triangle is equal to the square root of the remaining side.  Oh joy, rapture!  I've got a brain!

Somewhere Over the Rainbow - Introduction and Red

by Mommy Lady ~ guest writer  (Kym's introduction to this series of guest posts is here)

My darling first born, my guinea pig, my Bodhisattva; I have struggled with what to say in your blog as a response to many of the things you have written. Not because I can't think of anything to say, but because with each of your memories, my thoughts and feelings are jumbled like the colors of a fallen rainbow.

My thoughts sometime blend and become a dark shade, close to the color black because I am at times forced to remember some of the "not so good times" in my life. But for the most part, the colors of that fallen rainbow bathe in the richness of its colors.

I am so glad I was and still am the type of mom that sought you and your sisters out to act as an audience with me, as we watched clouds take shape, incandescent bugs trek along the sidewalk, a majestic sunset or sunrise, and the awesomeness of a rainbow. Each color can clearly represent and emotion to match the memories I've been having lately as I read your posts.

Your post "Kym was here" jolted me out of the haze of swirling colors and drove me to hit the word doc button and put my thoughts where they need to be. My thoughts will flow and may jumble themselves. This post may be long, but like the lyrics in Deacon Blues: "I cried when I wrote this song/ sue me if I play too long."

*****

Red: This is the color of energy and enthusiasm. Red symbolizes passion, energy, vibrancy, and success, courage, loyalty, honor, love.

Kym, you have shown your love for all that "belong" to you and those you allow into your inner circle. I know that you get frustrated with how things are with Chanel, but it's your love for her in spite of everything and your love for TJ that lead to your decision to take him as your own. I realize it's difficult at times and I do understand your feelings. It also takes courage to make such a choice.

You also give yourself little credit for the courage it takes for you to enter the journey into surrogacy. I could and would have done it for you if all things had failed when you were trying to conceive, but I don't know if I could have gone through all that you did for the sake of someone else.

When you first told me you were going to become the "brown pitcher," I had mixed emotions. When the first journey failed and I saw the emotional toll it took on you, I didn't want you to do it again. But when The Meatball was born at the end of your second journey, I knew it was well worth it.

Meeting Mia and Urs, your third intended parents, and seeing their desire to have an open surrogacy was a time of accepting more "family" members into our clan, as we've done so many times before with so many others. We saw a rainbow; I dreamed and wanted so much for it to become a reality, not only for Mia and Urs, but for all of us. They had become a part of us and in that, I felt sadness and a profound anger when you miscarried. At what or who - I don't know.

It takes courage to defy the odds the way you do. It takes courage to walk into your classroom each day and teach with honor, passion, and belief that children can be successful. It takes courage and loyalty to others to be there for them when no one else is.

I had forgotten all about the incident with Ann and when I read your post, it was one of the times I felt a blending of the colors. I saw and felt the same darkness I felt through that night. When I took Ann's baby boy and put him in his crib, I remembered with sadness my miscarriages. I remembered the loss between Chanel and Dani. It was the first ultrasound I had ever seen, and I knew in my heart the baby was a boy. His loss was my third miscarriage. The post about Ann also reminded me of the time I miscarried Dani's twin and a certain someone was nowhere to be found. I came home against medical advice because I had you and Chanel at home plus one (remember the little boy I was keeping so his mom could complete her Air Force basic training?).

It wasn't until read your post that I knew what it took for you to be there because you never told me you were having all of those feelings. It made me angry that you didn't allow me the chance to help see you through it. I felt as if you suffered in silence and you didn't have to walk that path alone, but walking alone takes courage in and of itself.

You love and are truly loved by all of the lives you've touched, whether it's someone that has read your posts and gained encouragement or insight, your family and friends, and those critters you reach out and touch 180 days of the year.

Cowardly Lion: Read what my medal says: "Courage." Ain't it the truth? Ain't it the truth?

The Wizard of Oz: And remember, my sentimental friend, that a heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others.

Guest blogger introduction - Mommy Lady

Last week my mother (who I sometimes affectionately call Mommy Lady or just Lady), informed me that she wanted to write a post for my blog. I squealed and clapped and tippy-toed from foot to foot like a pigtailed little girl who'd just been told that she was being given a new puppy.

One post was what I expected, but what she wrote was a series of posts so long that I had to break them into separate entries. She's titled the series "Somewhere Over the Rainbow, a Bodhisattva Came to Me." Each post is representative of a color of the rainbow, the significance of which she will reveal.

She wrote with me as the audience,so there are some "you had to be there" moments, but she knew that you would be listening in. If you'd like the background story to any of her allusions, just ask and I'll tell. Or she'll tell. A couple of days ago she said to me, "I'm intimidated to write for your blog. You write so...so...good. I'm afraid whatever I write will suck in comparison to yours." I looked at her with my best woman, please expression and reminded her of all the writing that she used to do.

 "You don't forget how to write," I said. "It's like riding a bike."

Or like being swept up in a tornado and waking to find yourself somewhere over the rainbow, amid vibrant colors and far removed from the blandness of black-and-white.

(Disclaimer: I did not pay or bribe her in any way for the ego-stroking words which will follow. I think she's sucking up in repayment for locking me outside with the Creepy Gargantuan Mutant Buzzing Insectoid Alien Thing of 1992).