The Atomic Mom

Worse Than I Could Have Ever Imagined...

I knew that today would be bad. I knew that everyone would feel stressed and pressured and possibly overwhelmed. Everyone did, and it was way worse than I imagined.

I was excited to have my mother come to help me decorate the new place, and arrange the furniture and all of that. I've never really had much experience with that, and it was nice to have her there to help.

If she could just understand what the word 'help' means.

She completely took control. Yelling, screaming, telling me to stick my Coke can up my ass. Really. I'm not even lying. See I sat a can of Coke on my table, and it got knocked over. She got extremely pissed at me, and when I asked her where I should have sat it rather than on the table, she said, "You should've stuck it up your ass."

I ended up leaving in tears. Nothing I did would suite her. Everything I did was wrong. I basically ended up leaving her the front door key, taking the boy, and telling her to lock up when she got finished. Realizing that I should have stocked up on Xanax I left, and came back here. I am still really hurt by her attitude and words. Today was supposed to be a kind of special day for me, and she turned it into a day that I never want to remember.

But, that's just how my mother is.

Which makes me even more thankful that tonight I will regain the key to my freedom, and tomorrow I can take myself and my son from this negative environment. It is no surprise that I have been diagnosed with Depression. If anyone had to live in the environment that I am used to living in, then I'm sure that would be the case.

Yes, she bought me a lot of stuff for my place. Yes, she helped me out immensely, and I probably could not have done it without her, but that doesn't give her the right to talk to me like trash.

My whole life has been this way. My whole fucking life.

I've never been good enough. I've never done anything right. I've never been as good as she is, and I never will. That's just something that I have to live with.

One more reason that I'm glad this is my last night in this place.

We Await...

We are outside. I am smoking, and having my morning coffee (and twitter), and we're waiting on the 'moving guy' to come and take us away.

 

I so would've put myself in there, too, but I promise you that I don't look half as good as Amy from Selfish Mom in the mornings.

I'm actually not a nervous wreck yet though (even though I did just try to light my cigarette with my cup of coffee), but I'm sure I will be by the end of the day. (Good thing that make meds for that, huh..) My dear sweet mama has practically put everything together for me. She even went this morning and bought me a microwave, a coffee maker, and (wait for it. wait for it.) COFFEE! She knows how I am without my coffee.

I'm starting out with a little bit of nothing, but isn't that how everyone starts? I can build myself up from here. This is a new beginning for us, and I'm pretty dang excited.

Please excuse me while I go dig my pill bottle out of my purse,

 

Spare the Rod - Spoil the Child?

(This post was inspired by Catherine @ Her Bad Mother and all of the rumors floating around about Kate Gosselin's "child abuse".

I grew up in the south in a family that didn't mind to spank. I remember running laps around the dining room table trying to escape the grasp of my mother. I really did. I remember the spankings, and I remember that most of them were only enough to let me know that I had been spanked. I don't remember any really hard spanking, and none of them stick out in my head as being any worse than the others.

Spanking was a part of my childhood. If I didn't follow the rules, and if I didn't mind my mother and grandparents (mostly grandfather) then I got a few swift taps on the hiney. I don't see anything wrong with it. I'm not talking about all out beating your children folks, so let's not take this the wrong way. I'm talking about spanking. It has been around for many many generations, and probably for longer than history can record. It is a way of disciplining children. It works.

No, you don't smack them in the face. (I know how badly you want to sometimes..)

You don't beat them until they are black and blue.

When I say spanking I mean a couple swift taps to the buttocks or upper thigh. Does this sound cruel to you? Oh well, I guess that just means we're different, and that's okay, too.

I have seen some parents who all but beat their child(ren) in public. This doesn't seem very effective to me, and I do think that in cases such as this that the proper authorities should be alerted.

It is more effective for me to use the "If you don't straighten up, then you're getting a spanking when we get home" technique. This usually always brings out proper behavior, and there have been very few times when I've had to follow up on this statement.

I will go ahead and tell you that my 4 year old has been spanked maybe 3 times in his life, and all three of those times it has been by me. I have tried other methods. I have tried time outs, and discussions, and taking away privileges, but nothing is as efficient as a good old fashioned spanking. (Keep in mind, nothing too harsh..)

At the age of four he has started behaving worse than ever, which leaves me thinking that maybe the spanking should have started a little bit sooner.

I do know that our parenting styles reflect alot of how we were parented, and all of that varies tremendously from family to family. Just because one family disciplines by spanking and one disciplines by time outs, that doesn't mean that the former is abusive. There is a line that has to be crossed before it is considered abuse in my book.

As parents we are all different, but I think we could at least agree to disagree.

Moving & Grown Men With Psychotic Episodes

I can't believe MJ died. I didn't think he'd ever die. I guess now he's off to that Never Never Land in the sky.

But, Farrah Fawcett. God, what is wrong with this world? That woman should have lived at least 20 more years. I loved her. R.I.P. Angel.

  So, anyway. As we all know the break up happened a couple of weeks ago, and the ex just can't seem to live it down. He is dead set that I left him for another man - and a married man at that. So, he can't get over it. There is like some psychological dysfunction going on with him, and he has reverted back to high school ways. Phone calls. Threats. Not only threats towards bad things happening to me, like say having my doctor call me in for a pill count on my Xanax, which I'm sure I'm just a few short on. But, also threats to this man, whom has been nothing but a friend to me... threats about causing him to lose his job or telling his wife (ex or whatever). I'm not sure what the fuck to do at this point. Just laugh smile and go on, I guess. I just want him to leave me the hell alone. That.Is.All.

I've been in a relationship since I was 17. First it was the ex (the evil one) and then Pup. I know that some of you may be wondering what it feels like to be single after this long. Honestly, it feels pretty damn good. Nobody to take care of but myself and my son, and nobody to answer to. Sure, I get lonely. I lost most of my friends during my long relationships (you know, how they kind of just whither away).. sometimes I have no one to talk to, but life will only get better from here. When I compare my life to how it was 6mos ago it is 75% better. Compared to a year ago it is 100% better.

I'm lovin' the hell out of this mini Dell though. I don't know if I mentioned it in my previous post or not, but I could just quit my job, and make pervs pay me to show some tits. That works for some girls doesn't it? Now, the only problem is where exactly am I going to get a set of knockers.

Work. Work is good. I've been doing training. Book work. Videos (that I may or may not have fast forwarded through most of), and that's about it for now. Monday is a whole other story though, so I've got to be ready for that.

I promise you a video blog soon, so you all can make fun on my country fried accent.

Hell Hath No Fury

My oh my.

Honestly, I've nowhere to start people. Good things have happened. Bad things have happened. This past week has went by like a whirlwind, and I must admit that I'm glad it's over.   

                                                    

My ex obviously is psycho. He just can't contain himself from calling up my male friend and hounding him constantly. My male friend that he doesn't even know. My male friend who is only that - a friend. It has gotten so bad that this friend doesn't want all of the drama, and I can't blame him. So, basically I've lost a very good friend over this psycho's bullshit.

I had my cell number changed today, so he can't really get ahold of me anymore - unless he wants to harass me on myspace or something, which is about on his level. Seriously though, it's to the point where I'm watching my back everywhere I go. I'm being very aware of my surroundings just in case dick-face decides to jump out with a pair of ninja nunmchuks (however the shit you spell it) and attack my ass. Crazy. Crazy. Word of advice to all of you women out there. NEVER date a redneck. It will NOT work out.

I had a good birthday though. I'm sitting here typing on my Dell Mini Inspiron, and you know it's pink. I didn't even have to tell you that. I like it a lot so far. It even has a webcam, so for all you pervs out there : cash = boobs. No, not really.

Moving into the new place tomorrow. Trying to decide what all to take with me. I'm excited and overwhelmed all at the same time.

Which is why this post is a little out of key. It could possibly be the major amounts of xanax I have ingested today also, but I'm not sure.

Anyway, give me a few days to get settled in in the new place, and I'll do a pretty little video blog for you and show off my beautiful brown eyes and not-so-pearly whites. I thought about doing it tonight, but man, after even taking a photo of myself on the thing looking the way I look (if you follow me on twitter you saw that shit lol) - I totally rethought that.

So, just an update. Things are good. Things are bad. That is life.

LIVE IT!!

Please excuse me while I go lock the deadbolts on my doors.

LOST PUP

As most of you know, or at least the ones who follow my blog should, Pup was the name that I had chosen for my man. My better half. My significant other. The reason that I came up with that name for him is personal to me, but can be explained with my overwhelming need to 'take care' of people. My mother has always chastised me for bringing home "stray pups," by which she meant men that I took care of.

That was not the case with Pup, however. The name just kind of popped into my head when I was trying to come up with a pseudonym for him - rather than having his real name posted all over the interweb. I did feel an overwhelming need to take care of him. To make sure that he had everything he needed, and to make sure he was happy. I felt it my duty to do so.

About a week ago our two year relationship ended. There are various reasons, but none are because of him only. He did nothing to make me want to leave him. He also did nothing to make me want to stay with him. I just felt that we were holding each other back, and that I would not be able to reach my full potential with him in tow. I feel the same about him. I feel as though there is someone out there who is a perfect match for him, and who deserves all of the love he so generously gives, but that person is not me.

I need to work on myself. He says that is an excuse, and doesn't believe me when I say I just need time by myself. However, it is the truth.

When I am in a relationship I become extremely needy and dependent on the other half of the equation. I set really high expectations, and become bitter when they are not met. I depend on this person to guide me, to make decisions for me, and to clear up any crisis that may occur. I realize that this is a fault of mine, and as a woman now of twenty five years of age, I do believe it is time to 'man up' as they say.

For the first time in my adult life (and especially after the birth of my son) I am on my own (i.e. no relationship). For the better part of my adult life I was the better half of a dark circle. For the other two years I have been with a very loving and kind man. I have yet to walk this road alone, but I feel it is time.

Pup, you are amazing. You are generous. You are kind. You were a miracle who walked into my life at the very time I needed you most. If I were being dramatic I could say that you saved my life. You gave me everything you had to offer, and never regretted any of it. You stuck by me through thick and thin. You held my hand during our horrible night at the hospital. You wheeled me out to smoke whenever I needed, and you shared with me the horrible sight of our miscarried child. I may never forget the pain I saw in your eyes that night. There are many things that I may never forget about you, many good memories, and a couple bad. That is what relationships are made of.

Honestly, I feel as though I sucked you dry, squeezed the life out of you, and just threw you back out onto the street. That is what I feel like.

Nothing you could have done would have changed any of this.

I just need to learn to stand on my own two feet. Not just for me, but for my son.

The World Kind of Fell Apart

This is a day in my life. The life of a single mother.

I wake up at 7 or 8am with a very active 4 year old. Not the kind of 4 year old who is sleepy and snugly for 20 or 30 minutes after waking up, but the kind who from the moment his eyes pop open is hell on wheels, literally. I spend the first 9 or so hours of my day screaming at him politely telling him no, and trying to stuff healthy foods down his throat. I have also been scurrying about during these hours trying to get some productive things done. You know, such as moving out my ridiculously insane mother's house.

I had found us a nice apartment. Nothing special, just something that will do for now for myself and the kid. Something affordable, which is hard to find when you make minimum wage in Kentucky.

Anyway, around 1pm I usually start getting ready for work. Normally I don't have to be at work until 3pm, but I always start getting ready really early due to the fact that my pampering is usually interrupted by screams of "Mommy, will you get me more fruit punch?" or "Mommy, I had an accident!" The latter usually sucking at least 15 minutes from my "getting ready time."

Then, I am off to work for the next 9 hours.

This is what happened on Tuesday, June 16th as well, only it ended a bit differently.

Kicking It Old School

(A brilliant guest post by Lettergirl, while I'm still in the background shining up my shoes...)

Unlike the young and hopeful Atomic Mommy, I'm not about to turn 20-effing-5. Seriously, I almost retracted my guest post offer when I saw that news. SIGH. Hang on a minute while I go put some mascara over my gray hair, beyotch.

No, I am 41. And back in college for the second time to get teaching credentials. Because after 15+ years in TV news, I finally figured out it wasn't ever going to be just like that movie with Holly Hunter.

Instead of getting to do cool important stories like Christiane Amanpour, I was going to be asked to fit in a live shot from a McDonald's reopening because the owners were really big advertisers.

No, seriously. Also, I had done enough stories about "GERMS THAT COULD KILL YOU" on movie theater seats, playground ball pits, and bathtub toys. Here's a summary of what I have learned: don't lick things if you don't know who else has been playing with them. You're welcome.

I have discovered though, some key differences between college at 20 and college at 40.

First, when you are not concerned about the cute guys in the class, you learn a lot more. Despite my brain being frazzled by children and old age, I have a 4.0 this time around. You can blah blah blah about mature students applying themselves better, etc. But really? Academic ability flourishes in the absence of hormone surges.

Second, I am a lot more aware this time around that a lot of other students in my classes are... how can I say this nicely?... complete morons. My new beatitude is "Blessed are the slackers, for they shall influence the grading curve."

One recent class, we had to critique an article from a peer-reviewed academic journal. The professor was very clear. It could not be a random article pulled off any old website. Academic. Journal. He showed samples of academic journals. He showed samples of articles that would and would not work. Not an academic journal? ZERO on your paper.

A couple days before the article was due, the woman sitting next to me said "I finished mine early, would you proofread it for me?"

Of course I obliged, and realized immediately that we had a problem.

"Umm, I don't want to ruin your day, but I am *pretty* sure the Wall Street Journal is in fact not an academic journal," I said gently.

"What? It says 'journal' right in the name?!" I could tell she thought I was an idiot.

"Yes, I know! That's confusing, right? (<--- this restraint right here? this is why I am going to be a great teacher.) But it's really just a newspaper."

She shook her head. "It SAYS Journal."

"Well, maybe I am wrong. But you know, I read the Wall Street Journal. In fact, in journalism school, we learned about a whole writing approach named after the Wall Street Journal. It's a very good newspaper. But it is, to the best of my knowledge, not a peer-reviewed academic journal. Maybe you should ask the professor to be sure."

So, rolling her eyes, she walked up to his desk. Just to show me.

And of course, he laughed his ass off and told her to re-do her paper.

She did not seem in the mood for future learning when she came back to her desk, so I did not tell her that she could not mail a letter at the Washington Post. Nor could she purchase a watch at the New York Times. Baby steps.

In another class, a pair of students did an entire Power-Point presentation on high-stakes testing in education. At least that's what I thought it was going to be on. However every flipping slide, in big giant font, said: HIGH SKATES TESTING.

So perhaps their presentation was really about roller blades smoking pot and then taking standardized tests. I'm not sure.

So if you've been contemplating going back to college, but you're not sure you could hang, here's a litmus test for you: if you've laughed reading this, you're golden. Seriously. See you in class.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Or of course, if you don't want to go back to college, you could just come visit me from time to time at Not Going Postal. It's just as educational, and I don't charge you $1,000 for every three credit hour class. Love, Lettergirl

OHNOEZ! Not Interprison!

So, I'm busy scrubbing up dog-doo stains from the carpet of my new apartment, that the lady before me didn't bother to clean very well, when I see an envelope with my name on it slide beneath my now white and shiny front door.

What is that? I am thinking as I walk over and pick up the officially sealed envelope. Who in the world would send me an officially sealed envelope? Not even send it, but slide it under my door? Which would mean they were STANDING right outside my door right?

At this point I'm starting to freak out, and my poor bleach covered fingers are trembling as I flip over the envelope to check out the official seal. It reads, "Internet Police : Division of Blogging and Twitter."

Uh Oh, I think to myself. Tucked inside the fancy envelope and seal is a note that reads:

Dear Atomic Mom, (that is me? Right?)

   We regret to inform you that due to your lack of responsible blogging and neglect of our blogosphere policy you have been sent this warning. If this behavior isn't corrected within ten days you will then be fined and/or sentenced to time in The Interprison.

  During the past month we have noticed a swift decline in your blog postings and your unsuccessful attempts to cover up your absence with guest bloggers. Your ratings have dropped and your readers have disappeared, which if not corrected will force us to take action.

  Do not disregard this warning, Katherine. Your life blog depends on it.

D. Internet

Department of Blogging and Twitter

As I read this note tears stream from my eyes, but I am grateful for the fact that they didn't come to take me away as they did one blogger. I feel horrible for neglecting my dearly beloved blog, which I really do love. Plus, all of my readers - or the few of you that are left anyway.

I could try to explain myself. I could go into detail about my break up or my "sordid affair," which although both would made for good blog fodder I would rather keep private at this point. I could tell you that I've been busy cleaning up the new apartment my son and I are moving into. I could tell you all of these things, but it wouldn't matter, because I claim to be a blogger, which obviously I am not.

Regardless of any circumstances I will continue to post here. Honestly, it may not be anything worth reading, but who wants to spend time in Interprison? Not me, guys. Not me.

For the longest time I've worried about not having anything to blog about, and now that tons of things are happening I am neglecting to blog about them. Silly, I admit.

This will no longer be an issue. I will remain here, at The Atomic Mom, to discuss bodily functions and Chinese Fire Cracker Farts for eternity. I swear.

P.S. I do have a wonderful guest post coming up from Lettergirl @ Not Going Postal, but that will not be used to take the place of my wonderful postings.

We found the best thing since sliced bread

Hi All.  My name is Ace and I'm filling in for today!  I can be found daily over at If You Think Round is Funny. I'm happy to be helping out and filling in for The Atomic Mom today!  I must admit, the following is a redo for me.  It was originally posted on my blog a month or so ago and I just made it all pretty and fresh for today.  

I'm lazy like that.

The best thing since sliced bread?  Yep.  It's called Handipoints.

Our kids don't have the best track record with chore charts. Or the chores themselves. They have been asking for allowance for a few years now and it has yet to turn into a weekly deal.

I got allowance every week when I was their age. I never really had to do any chores, I just got it. I now see that I was slightly spoiled and have since learned that money doesn't grow on trees. I didn't really learn anything by just getting an allowance, except that I could usually get whatever I wanted. I don't want that for our kids. 

Occasionally still works for me though.

Once upon a Saturday, not too long ago, I wanted to mow the yard and Superman's car was in desperate need of being cleaned out and a good scrubbing. Well, you mention washing a car and I know 3 kids that have their bathing suits on faster than you can say licketysplit.

Naturally, after the extra big chores were done, the kids wanted paid. Or as Princess put it, they wanted the green stuff. Said while rubbing her thumb and 2 fingers together.

So while I was in the shower scrubbing grass stains off my feet and chunks out of my hair, Superman came up with a plan. We've tried chore charts before and they just don't work. Dry erase boards didn't work because you have to re-write when it gets smudged, check things off, erase and start over each week. Printed chore charts didn't work because they got ripped, mysteriously fell off the fridge and never found, and you run out of ink in the printer.

We're kind of a techy family, so Handipoints is great so far! Each kid has their own username, password and fun little kitty character. When they sign in they see their cute little kitty. Their score card tells them if their chores have been graded, their points, their goals and HandiLand where they can play different games as their kitty character, they can see their Task Charts and also their Savings Goals. After they complete a chore they can check it off under Task Charts.

Superman and I also have a username as the parents. Our page opens with each score card and lets us know if we have any chores to grade. You can rate the completed chore from an A+ to an F depending on how they did and that also affects how many bonus points they get for the chore.

The points are pretty cool too. We have it set up so that Princess and Little Dude both have to reach 100 points a week and Peanut needs 125 since she's older. Each kid has 2 savings goals right now, one is a weekly allowance and the other is something bigger of their choice. At the end of the week, they can use their handipoints to "buy" their allowance and get cash in hand. Or they can apply their points towards their bigger goal.

For example. Little Dude just redeemed his 1250 points for a Wii game for $29.99. Each time he reaches 100 points, he can either choose to get $2.50 immediately and save nothing towards the game, or he can apply his points towards the game and his $2.50 for this week gets saved aside. Any week he chooses to take the cash it will add an extra week before he can get his game.  He has since added another Wii game to his goals and is saving again. 

So far, this website is a miracle. There hasn't been dried toothpaste in the sink since we started this program. And I couldn't even find my sandals when I needed to take the dogs out this morning because they had been neatly put in their rightful place. But not by me!