Barking Mad

Breaking Up on Facebook...It's Not Me, it's YOU!

I'm going to go ahead and admit that this is going to piss off about 25 regular readers who happen to be close friends with my daughter, Meaghan.  I'm not going to apologize for it.  I'm not going to name names, however I can almost guarantee that if you think this is aimed towards you, it probably is.

One of the most bizarre things to me, a woman who is not only a mother, but a writer - a writer who is trying to feel her way around and make sense of using all of this social media that's rapidly becoming available, is how to appropriately use it.  One of those social media outlets happens to be Facebook.

There's a level of personal interaction with people, on Facebook, that can at times be a little bizarre. Especially when you add in your own children and their friends.  As a parent, (this parent anyhow), it moves beyond using a social media tool, to being able to view part of a world that most parents don't want to know about.  Teenagers don't use Facebook and Twitter the same way a professional, be it a blogger, writer, or business owner, might use them.

Back when I first discovered Facebook I used it mainly as a means to connect with old friends from high school.  As time passed I began to use it for sharing photographs, promoting new blog posts, connecting with new people I have been meeting through my travels in the blogosphere.  I guess through the natural evolution of all things on the interwebs, my own children have ended up adding me as friends on Facebook.  Through them, their friends have added me and have subsequently been reading Barking Mad. 

Meaghan doesn't tone down what she posts on Facebook in light of the fact that I can see it all.  Oh I'm sure there are some things she omits because I can easily read it, but for the most part, I trust her and know she's not out there drinking and using hardcore drugs and possibly taking her own life and those around her, into her hands all while posting about it on Facebook.  However, the same can't be said for some of her friends. Friends that I've grown close to over the last two years and who have always been welcome in our home. 

Recently I've been reading some things that really bother me a great deal, despite my fondness for these young adults.  And for those of you reading this, knowing I am speaking directly to you, know this one thing.  I am still a parent to a little girl, barely out of her babyhood.  It's my responsibility to ensure her safety and happiness and well being at all times.   You all seem so genuinely fond of Gaby and she adores you all.  But here's the thing, as her mother I'm going to protect her from influences I feel aren't in her best interest.  Meaghan is an adult now and can and pretty much does whatever she wants, so my sphere of influence over her isn't the same as it is with Gaby.  To that end I only want the best influences in Gaby's life.  I'm fighting for my own life right now and trying, desperately to get my own shit together.  I don't need people who aren't making the wisest decisions having any influence over her at all.

If you're sitting there asking yourself, "What the fuck are you talking about?" let me help clarify it for you.  If you've noticed that I removed you from my friend's list on Facebook, let me spell out exactly why I did it.

• You sold Meaghan a car that you knew had more wrong with it than just bad brakes and issues with the fuel line.  When she took it into a reputable shop to have the brakes repaired they wouldn't even give it back to her because it is, "A death trap with a list so long of things wrong with it that there was no way whoever sold this to her, couldn't have known about!"  Thankfully she has a mensch of a friend who absolutely would not allow her to get back into that vehicle and is helping us make sure she gets where she needs to be before she leaves for Basic.   Gareth and I have put up with a lot from you...from destroying a back garden patio set when you intentionally threw a lighter into the fire pit, to nearly destroying an expensive snow blower because of your careless actions. You constantly tell Meaghan to "grow up."  Well doll, take a look in the mirror and say the same thing.  You've been a fairweather friend to Meaghan and ultimately, whilst it's up to her as to whether your friendship with her either ends or proceeds;  I don't want someone in my home who wouldn't care enough about a young woman he calls a "best friend", to be honest enough with her about a car you sold her, in my home, or in my life in any way, shape or form...ever again!

• As for You, you took something entirely personally when it had nothing to do with you, yet everything to do with Gareth and I, as parents, responding to something Meaghan did that we weren't pleased with.  It didn't affect you in any way.  As a result, you totally ignored a child, nay, a three year old, who went out of her mind with excitement when she saw you - all because you were pissed of at me, for making a decision which has absolutely ZERO to do with you.  You upset a child who loves you and treats you like an older brother.  Gaby was gutted that you acted that way and she thought she had done something wrong.  You broke the heart of a three year old and that my dear boy, is something I'm not willing to overlook.   I think my own close friendship with you made me blind to some of the other things you were doing that concerned me greatly.  Every other college student might be drinking and doing drugs (because that's the excuse I hear all the time, even from Meaghan), but if it's all the same to you, I don't want the ones that come into my home and are treated as part of my family to be the ones who do that, especially not when they are the same ones who drive Meaghan around.  I hope she has enough sense to never get into a car with someone under the influence of anything.  As she's an adult, I can't control that, but I can control who Gaby is around and I don't want her around people where partying on a Monday night is the epitome of importance.  

• And now we finally come to You, young lady.  I think this probably breaks my heart more than anyone else because of how much Gaby loves you and enjoys being around you.  It's also hard for me because we've asked you to babysit for us in the past - something that is extremely hard for me to do taking into consideration I've lost a child who was in the care of a babysitter and the circumstances are still, to this day, questionable as to exactly what she was doing whilst she was caring for my son.   It's really hard for me to sit back and read some of your status updates on Facebook, knowing you're either shitfaced, hungover, or about to be.   I'm 99% certain you'd never come over and watch Gaby while you were under the influence of anything, but in the end, I want to be 100% certain.    You are such an incredibly beautiful young woman who is talented and has an enormous capacity to love and accept those around you.  I daresay you've been a good friend to Meaghan, but that's probably where it should stay.   Despite it being tres chic to drink when you're still underage, it's a huge HELL NO! in my book.   I need to foster responsible behavior around Gaby.  I also need those who are around her to do the same.  And in the end, I'm just not that interested in reading about you getting drunk.  I'd like to remain in my blissful little bubble of ignorance that you are this perfect college sophomore who would never think of doing anything potentially dangerous.  And I'm going to remain in that little bubble, only, it will now be from the outside of your world. 

In the end, I know that nothing I say is of any importance to any of you, or influences your day to day life.  I'm cool with that.  However I'm at a point where I'm doing some major emotional housecleaning and getting rid of a lot of things in my life that are toxic to me, stress me, upset me, or that I just don't need.  I'm putting you back in the Facebook category that you need to be in...Meaghan's friends.

Earlier today I asked a question on Twitter about having older kids and following them on Twitter or friending them on Facebook.  So tell me, what do you think? 

I like feeling connected to Meaghan and especially now that she's about to set off for parts unknown and for a life experience that will be unlike one she has ever experienced, I cherish that connection. I will admit though, it's like walking on a tightrope, especially when you this "view" you have into their lives and those of their friends is something you find objectionable or distasteful.

That's just my take on it.  What's yours?

Are You a Mother or a Wife, First?

Earlier this evening I was lollygagging out on Facebook and for some reason my "blurb" (the tiny little section to the left, on your profile where you can write something profound or pathetic about yourself.), caught my attention and I read it over to myself several times...

"I'm a wife, mom, writer, photographer and former Clear Channel DJ and voice-over talent, with a penchant for vampires and the ocean. I'll think of something else witty/clever/brilliant to say later...oh yeah, I'm also a procrastinator!"

I started to think about why I always say that I am a wife first, before mother.  Always. 

Now, try to follow along with me here.  I'm not absolutely positive I'm going to word this the right way. 

Maybe it goes back to the traditional ways of building a family; you get married, have kids, grow old and sit on your front porch swing, drinking reduced sugar/acid lemonade,  and hold hands as you stare together, off into the sunset.   So, traditionally speaking, you are a wife first, then a mother.   But even if you marry before having kids, something about placing your status as wife over that of mother just seemed a bit off to me.

Looking at that last paragraph, I can see how one might begin to infer that I might be trying to say that I love my children more than my husband.   I've seen this debated over and over, especially in the blogosphere and it always tends to inflame tempers and start these huge debates.  I don't think that's where I'm going with this. 

What I think I'm trying to say is that in today's society it's easy to throw away a spouse that you're no longer fond of, have grown tired of communicating with, or feel that you two have grown apart.  It seems easier to cut all marital ties than to stay together and try and reconnect your original bonds. You can change your status as wife any time you want.  It's as easy as taking out a loan on a car...well given today's economic climate, probably easier.  So, whereas once you were a wife, you are now single.    You might not always be a wife, but once you've had children, you will always be a mother. 

I have divorced two husbands in my life, yet I've always remained a mother.  I will always be a mother.  Death, divorce, anger...none of those things change that fact.  Regardless of whether you give your child up at birth, walk away from him in a divorce, or write him off after he's sentenced to life in prison, you are still a mother.  You can't change that.

Maybe I am saying that I think the status of mother should be elevated over that of wife?  Or does that rock the boat a little too much?  I can hear the shocked gasps from here;  "Oh my God, she places her children above her marriage!"  Or, "Well, you can guarantee who rules the roost in that home and it sure as hell isn't her or her husband...it's her kids!"  That's not the case in our family, not even close.  I think Megawatt could probably tell you that the hubby and I present a united front when it comes to being the people in charge around here and our kids don't tend to question or challenge it.

I am so proud to be the wife of such a wonderful, caring, compassionate and loving husband.  Don't let the topic of this post be the cause for you to have any reservations about that.  Having said that though, I still wonder whether I am a wife first, or a mother?  There seems to be so much more that goes into motherhood than being a wife. 

In the end, it's our actions as mothers (and father's too. I'm not trying to downplay the role of fathers with this post.) that determine what kind of adults our children will be.  They are the end result of all the years of total and complete happiness, utter frustration, unending joy, painful heartbreak and more love than any of us have words to capture.

As I have read and then re-read this post, prior to publishing, I almost am of the opinion that this question could be as circuitous as the old "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" question. Also, some small part of this entire scenario goes back to the traditional roles of marriage first, and then children.  However, fewer and fewer of today's families are the "nuclear families" of the Ward and June Cleaver era.   It's no longer frowned upon to put the baby carriage before the wedding ring, and in a lot more cases, there isn't even a partner, be it male or female, there to begin with.  Women no longer need to procreate with a physical partner.  Although, let's not go down that road as it tends to be filled with the potholes and frost heaves of heated debate and ethical argument. 

Does any of this make sense?   I'd really love to know how you think of yourself...for the mother's reading this (OK and you father's too, as I suppose it applies equally), are you a wife first, or does your motherhood take precedence over your role as a wife? 

If you are married with kids, how do you describe yourself in the "blurbs" of your life?

Joining a New Rank of Motherhood

"I am an American Airman.
I am a warrior.
I have answered my nation's call.

I am an American Airman.
My mission is to fly, fight, and win.
I am faithful to a proud heritage,
A tradition of honor,
And a legacy of valor.

I am an American Airman,
Guardian of freedom and justice,
My nation's sword and shield,
Its sentry and avenger.
I defend my country with my life.

I am an American Airman:
Wingman, leader, warrior.
I will never leave an airman behind,
I will never falter,

And I will not fail."

I am now the exuberantly proud mother of a United States Air Force Airman.

Megawatt is now a fully enlisted member of the military.

*deep breath*

I'm still letting this sink in...into every pore of my being.   My eldest daughter is now in the military.  I've been saying this over and over in my head all morning.  Saying it aloud in the car; getting the feel of it rolling off my tongue.  I'm letting the gravity of her decision fully sit upon my shoulders.  Despite all it entails I am flooded with an overwhelming sense of pride for this beautiful child of my womb; fully a woman now, who is about to stand tall and proud for her country.

I have a few months yet before she leaves for basic as she went in under the Delayed Entry Program... for that I am very glad as I'm not yet ready to see her fly off on her own.

This has been a decision we've been discussing with her for some time and something she has turned over in her mind for quite a while. She came to us shortly after 2nd semester began, this past year, and let us know she was considering the military as a means to help pay for school, in addition to the personal growth opportunities it offered.  Megawatt was faced with looking at almost $125K in student loan debt (and this is in addition to very generous scholarships and grants) after graduation, and she didn't want us to foot the bill for yet another year either.  Her bottom line was that she feels this is the right decision for her at this time in her life.

Megawatt's close friend Paul, and her boyfriend Kevin, accompanied me down to the MEP's (Military Entrance Processing) Station for her swearing in.

My gorgeous girl, words can not describe how full my heart is when I think of how much you've grown in this last year and how much you are about to grow and take on, in this new chapter of your life.

When the time comes, I'll embrace you and then watch you spread your wings and fly off, on behalf of your country.  Fly strong, fast, and with the knowledge that we love you. 

Be proud of yourself, Meaghan...you've already made me proud!

I love you!

 

Speed Racer, You've Been Busted!

The following is a recipe for a beautiful early Sunday morning.  I can positively guarantee that you won't need any caffeine at all if you start your Sunday the same way we started ours this morning.

Ingredients

• 1 19 year old female who came home from college for "Family Movie Night" on Saturday night.  This was an exceptionally important "Family Movie Night" because this FMN movie was.....Twilight!  She crashed at home and was supposed to get up early because she had to be back in time for work at the grocery store in her sleepy little college town.

• 1 Automobile

• 1 POSTED speed limit of 45MPH

• 1 Police officer with a radar gun and thick Maine-ah accent.

• 2 soundly sleeping parents

• 1 Phone call...and this is important folks.  The phone must ring at precisely 6:22AM, waking you out of a sound sleep. 

***Side note to the above ingredient.  The first phone call came at 6:22AM and one of the sleeping parents hadn't made it to the phone in time, but had looked at the caller ID and noticed it said; "Small Town Maine Police Dept."  The female parent had a small heart attack knowing that the 19 year old drives through Small Town on her way back to her sleepy college town, after visits home.*** 

• 2nd Phone call at 6:24AM from Small Town Police Dept.

Directions

Answer the phone cautiously whilst the life-giving-blood-pumping heart in your chest almost seizes into cardiac arrest before hearing why the police would be calling.  A million scenarios run through your mind with only the worst presenting themselves at the forefront. 

Sit down anxiously on the sofa whilst the Officer Small Town introduces himself and then the following conversation takes place:

Officer Small Town:  Hello, is this Mrs. Barking Mad?

Mrs. Barking Mad: *croaks out a barely audible* Yes.

Officer Small Town:  Mrs. Barking Mad I am sorry to phone you so early. Are you fully awake?   Do you own a 2000 Volvo, license plate XXXXX? 

Mrs. Barking Mad: *croaks out another barely audible*  Yes

Officer Small Town:  Mrs. Barking Mad, I have your daughter, Megawatt, pulled over.  Now before I tell you why I've pulled her over, I want you to understand that this is very serious. 

Mrs. Barking Mad:  *breathing a very audible sigh of relief that her daughter is still alive...for the time being anyhow!*  Yes, Officer, I think I understand.

Officer Small Town:  Mrs. Barking Mad, I pulled Megawatt over for going 22MPH over the posted speed limit and....

Mrs. Barking Mad:  WHAT THE FUCK!!!! Are you kidding me?  You didn't shoot her on sight?  Seriously, you have my permission.  Can you hold on for just a moment so that I can take a baby aspirin to prevent the heart attack that I think I'm about to have?

Officer Small Town:  Mrs. Barking Mad,  I see that the car is registered in your name.  I have her pulled over and I'm not going to ticket her.  I do see that she has an accident on her record, and being that she's a newly licensed driver a citation like this carries a $280 fine and would mean losing her license for 6 months, in the state of Maine, it's an automatic suspension for someone who has had her license for less than a year.

Now, she tells me she was on her way to work and was going to be late, but I'm going to let her off with a very stern warning, and I imagine, from your initial reaction, a'yup, that she's in far worse hot water than she'd be in with an automatic license suspension, expensive fine and points on her driving record.  

I understand you're probably wicked angry right now, and rightly I would be too, but I'd much rather be making this sort of phone call, than a "Death Notification Call."  She needs to slow it down so that you never receive one of those phone calls.

***At the immediate mention of "Death Notification Call" I immediately burst into tears and thank the officer.  Just hearing those words takes me, instantly, back to a time when I have been the mom who has received that sort of phone call.   He then asks me:

Officer Small Town:  Mrs. Barking Mad, would you like to speak with your daughter?

Mrs. Barking Mad:  No!  *choking back tears to make way for initial wave of anger* No, I probably shouldn't speak to her right this minute but can you give her a message for me, it's simple really, one word only...."BLOG"  

Officer Small Town:  I'm sorry Mrs. Barking Mad, could you repeat that? 

Mrs. Barking Mad:  Certainly.  Just tell her this one word; this one word will make an impact, I'm sure.  "BLOG."

Officer Small Town:  I'm sorry to have woken you so early Mrs. Barking Mad.  I thought this was preferable to you getting a call from your daughter at 6:30AM this morning telling you that she'd just lost her license.

Mrs. Barking Mad: Thanks, I think.

Take all ingredients and shake vigorously.  Toss in a few "F" Bombs, some other choice expletives, some righteous indignation, a heaping cup full of anger, three or four idle threats including; "She's never ever driving again!", "She's so dead they are going to have to bury her twice." or, if you happen to have it on hand, "That does it! I'm taking the car away and buying her a bicycle!" 

Toss all above ingredients in a huge stock pot and let stew for several hours. 

Prelude - Mommyblogging; Exploitation or Art?

For the past several months I have been fervently working on a piece about "Mommy-Bloggers", (are we all tired of that title?  Or are you still OK with it?), and the assertions that we exploit our children via either sharing personal stories about raising our children, (this can include day-to-day antics, habits, milestones, and just about any other thing you can think of that your kids do.), and posting photographs of them on our blogs, MySpace, Facebook, Flickr, Twitter, and just about any other social media outlet you can think of.

Over the past few months I've had the privilege of interviewing several people around the country from organizations including the FBI, the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, and Internet Crimes Again Children, to various psychologists and psychiatrists who deal with sexual offenders.  I'm grateful for the time and information I was granted by these individuals and will be forever appreciative for the service they perform in their various lines of work, all in the name of protecting our most precious assets...our children. 

On a lighter note, I'm also deeply appreciative for the extensive patience extended to me on behalf of those I've spoken with and interviewed because, in the interest of full disclosure, investigative journalism was not my major in college and is definitely not my forte.  I was a Broadcast Journalism major.  My experience is that of an on-air disc jockey and I occasionally submitted pieces where I interviewed the likes of Marilyn Manson, Rob Zombie, and others like Modest Mouse...not exactly the kind of material that intellectually challenged me or required me to dig deep into a subject of great personal relevance.   My personal writing comes from a place of love, humour, and sometimes pain.  So to move into an area where the topic can not only be potentially controversial as it relates to mommy-bloggers, but often times disturbing in regards to the things I learned about pedophiles, child pornography and the exploitation of our youth; I worry that I might not be adequately qualified, or possess the skills to write about something so important.  However, I am a writer; more than that though, I am a mother and I hope I can do this topic the justice it deserves.

This piece would not be complete without the input of the people, the parents, the writers and bloggers who comprise the community of the blogosphere.  So now I'm reaching out to you.  I want to know your own opinions on this topic.  I want to know what your limits are; the things you will and will not write or post about, What are your own concerns about images posted of our children and whether you think it constitutes a risk, and whether you think, down the line, our children may read our words about raising them - those shared experiences we can all relate to and commiserate with, and will it cause them any undue stress, pain, or as some allege, years spent in a therapists office trying to come to terms with mommy writing about potty-training difficulties?  I used potty training as only one example but in all honesty, there are myriad things we all write about that some in the blogosphere claim exploits our children either for profit or popularity.

Over the next two weeks I hope to gain enough feedback from you to fully round-out this piece and publish it, barring any further disruption of the Maine power grid or TypePad digesting my drafts!  Feel free to leave me your thoughts and opinions in the comment section of this post, or you can email me at iambarkingmad (at) gmail (dot) com.   I really look forward to your own contribution to this, and your thoughts on something that is important to us all.

I'd Like 8 Babies Please, with a Side of Poverty, a Dash of Infamy, and a Smattering of Public Assistance!

I forgot to add, to the above order - slather everything with a generous amount of crazy! 

If by some chance you've been living under a rock, or just don't pay attention to this sort of thing, I'm talking about the mother in southern California who recently gave birth to Octuplets...EIGHT BABIES.  No, her last name is not Duggar.

Ever since the story broke about Nadya Suleman, who was already the mother of six children under the age of 8, giving birth to the eight additional babies, I have been hitting my head against the wall and either yelling at the radio or TV every bloody time her story comes on! 

OH.MY.GOD!  This story makes me all kinds of angry.  I'm foaming at the mouth I'm so pissed.  OK well maybe I'm not actually foaming at the mouth...I think I just forgot to wipe off some of the toothpaste after the last time I brushed my teeth.  Anyohw, I'm livid over this one! 

Ms. Suleman now has enough children to start her own NBA franchise.  Seriously!

I don't care how pro-life you are, compassionate, liberal, conservative...whatever you are; the rational, logical thinking part of you has to be thinking; "WTF was she thinking?" 

Suleman is not employed.

She lives in a tiny bungalow with her parents (who, according to recent stories, have already bailed their daughter out and then had to file for bankruptcy and moved in with Nadya and the kids) and six, soon to be FOURTEEN children!   Seventeen people in a tiny house. 

With this story gaining all the attention it has, several people are asking some important ethical questions, but I'm more interested in the obvious questions...

Ms. Suleman hasn't been working, yet she's going to school.  Who's paying for that? 

Who paid for the IVF in the first place?  And who is paying for the medical care that she and all eight babies are receiving?  I imagine their NICU care is going to run into the millions of dollars.  Hell, just for the Little Imp's two week stint in the NICU after her birth cost $212,000.00.  Something tells me that those octuplets are going to rack up quite the hospital tab.

And now, just mere days after giving birth, she's placing her babies on the sacrificial altar of the TV/Media/News goods and looking to score some major deals.   That sure as hell didn't take her long at all.  Naturally, many people are now asking if she did this intentionally; seeking financial gain out of something that clearly raises some ethical issues.  The PR firm she hired is now stating that Suleman is "the most sought after mother in the world" and that "everyone wants to talk to her."  I'm sure they do.  I for one would like to ask her, "What the fuck where you thinking?"

Much has been made about Suleman's long desire to be a mother and have lots of children.  Here's the deal Nadya...lots of women the world over would give everything to be a mother...to bear a child; love it and raise it, and a lot of those same women are unable to.  What you m'dear have done, is make a mockery of women who go through hell trying to become pregnant -- trying for just one baby...one chance to bring a life into this world and raise that child to become a happy, healthy and loving human being.  Just because you want to be a mother, doesn't mean you should.

It's not as easy as just grabbing a turkey baster and shoving it up there and saying; "Get in mah belly!" Well, it never used to be that simple. 

If you're looking at your computer screen and saying to yourself; "Well who made you judge and jury of who should have so many children?  I mean, golly gee whiz Auds, look at the Duggars and all those kids...18 of 'em!" To which I would reply..."Not that same thing at all, not by a long shot!"

Sure, I've often wondered if Michelle Duggar understands that her vagina and uterus are not clown cars and then thought to myself; "Boy, I bet her vagina wants to run away every time Jim Bob comes near her!"  But ya know what?  Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar, as bizarre as they come across at times, are totally and completely self sufficient.  She produces these children without the help of science and they have amassed their own personal wealth over the years (they had money well before TLC and Discovery Channels started running shows about them) and are a burden to no one, and some would even say, an inspiration to many...although I'm not one of them.  To each their own, but my girlie bits hurt just thinking about shooting out that many kids.  My point is, vaginas (or is the plural, vaginae as the spell checker thing inherent with Firefox suggests?  Do OBGYN's go home and say; "Jesus, I sure looked at a lot of vaginae today?  I think not!) aside, comparing the Duggars to Suleman is not the same. 

Here's the thing about Suleman though...she's got no money!  She has no resources at this point...except, cha ching!  The kids!  And now she wants to be a parenting expert?  Honey, I've got a dog and two cats, but I don't see Animal Planet knocking on my door asking me to host the newest show about pet care. 

Rest assured though, someone will come knocking at her door, offering her cash for her story.  And whoever that person, or group happens to be, I hope they know they're furthering Suleman's own personal brand of crazy.   Rumour has it that she's asking for $2 million dollars.  Honey, in today's economy that measley $2M isn't going to last very long.  What then?  Welfare?  

There's something wrong with a society that requires one to get a license to catch a fish, yet shoves  eight embryos inside a woman with no idea whether she can responsibly parent these children or not.

Wanna Swap? ***WE HAVE A WINNER***

CONGRATULATIONS To Wendy from Ruen's on the Run!  She is the winner of the Wanna Swap contest! 

READ THE ENTIRE POST...There's a contest at the bottom!

It's no secret that the economy sucks right now.  Even if you inhabit the upper income levels (aside from the stratosphere where the likes of Oprah, Bill Gates, and Warren Buffet hang out), you're probably feeling it.  Regardless of where you sit in terms of income level, you're probably well aware of the downturn and it's probably affected you in some way, be it small or large.  Maybe you've cut back on eating out, Friday nights at the cinema, daily Lattes at Starbucks, or are switching from brand names to generics. 

For us, it's been a combination of a lot of things.  With the added expense of almost full-time Montessori for the Little Imp, (whilst I sort through my issues), and added co-pays for my therapy and the huge jump in our heating oil costs, (last year we were spending about $125 a month for heating fuel oil which is the more common method of heating homes here in New England, we're spending roughly $425 a month now.  OUCH!), the economy has hit us pretty hard and I'm no longer as confident as I once was about our future financial stability...a sentiment that millions of families across the country share right now.  It didn't help that shortly after we bought our home in July of '07, the town tax assessor re-evaluated and adjusted property values and our property taxes almost doubled! 

The hardest thing for me to have to halt almost immediately was spending on the Little Imp and Megawatt.   It wasn't uncommon for me to get the Little Imp an entire new wardrobe every few months.  I'd throw new stuff at Megawatt too, be it clothes, make-up, or shoes.  I love shopping for my girls.  I sign up for all of the email advertisements as well....Gymboree, Children's Place, Hot Topic, Macy's, GAP, Juicy Couture...you name it.  If they are having a sale, and I can get it online, I'm all over it.  Back in the good old days when I didn't mind going to the mall, the folks at Gymboree knew me by name!  That's how bad it was.

Not any more!

Now I'm trying to find ways to keep my toddler, who happens to be growing like a weed (don't they all?), in clothes.  I've been browsing Ebay and Craigslist but to be honest, I don't get the whole Ebay thing and having to get up close and personal through people on Craigslist kinda scares me.  Frankly, some of the prices and starting bids for kids stuff on Ebay is a little outrageous.  I understand that everyone is trying to make a buck where they can, but come on!  I'm not going to pay almost the same price for a pair of tights on Ebay that I can get locally at Gymboree!  Totally defeats the purpose.

I was literally sitting here with our budget last week, trying to figure out how to robb Peter to pay Paul so that I could get the Little Imp a few more pair of jeans and some sweaters, not to mention snow boots that didn't pinch her feet, and still manage to pay the electric bill and make sure there was enough money left over for groceries.  I was about to give up when I got an email from MommyPie telling me all about this fantastic new website she was starting.  I immediately fell in love with the concept behind Swap Mamas.   I also knew, despite having shipped a box the size of a small European car to my little sister Amanda, who just gave birth to her first baby girl, that I still had so much stuff from Imp's babyhood and early toddlerhood that was in wonderful shape and could benefit someone else.

Here are just a few of the catagories...

New (or Nearly)

Kids Books & Movies

Toddler Clothes 18-24M

Cloth Diapers Etc.

Kids Clothes 3T

Baby Bed & Bath

Sports Gear

Artsy-Craftsy  (I know there are at least two or three die-hard scrappers that read Barking Mad! so get out there!)

...those are just a few of the catagories/groups that you'll find out there! 

Sure...I could put this stuff on Ebay or Craigslist and try to make some much needed money.  I could even bag it up and take it to Goodwill or Salvation Army, itemize it all, and wait for a receipt so that we could deduct it on next year's taxes.   But ya know what...?  I like the idea behind Swap Mamas a lot better.  I like the fact that even if I don't find an ideal swap, I know that eventually I will, and I also know that someone out there who maybe I only know through the blogosphere - is going to get a lot of use and probably be grateful for whatever I send.

You don't always have to "swap."  You can just give...but the more you give, eventually the more you'll get.  Right now though, giving just feels better to me and I'm happy to support MommyPie's brilliant idea! 

Now, because I am soooo in lurve with this idea, here's the deal.  Go out to Swap Mamas.  Join. Then, go back your very own little bloggy space and post about it.  Nothing major.  Even if it's only a paragraph.  Just post something about it.  Even if you're already a member, you can still enter.  Just post about it!  Eventually, through word-of-mouth, I'm quite certain that Swap Mamas will be huge and have vast quantities of stuff to swap.  Once you've joined and created your post, come back here and leave me a comment along with the url (just cut and paste, I'm too lazy right now to create a Mr. Linky for this.), and on Tuesday at 8:00PM EST the Little Imp will pick the winner.  What will you win?  So glad you asked!

• One month subscription to NetFlix
• $15 Borders  Gift Card
• $15 Starbucks Gift Card

Oh and if you don't have a blog, just send out an email letting your mommy (even your daddy!) friends know about Swap Mamas.  Just be sure to cc/bcc me too - iambarkingmad (at) gmail (dot) com -  and I'll enter you in the drawing for the contest!

Good luck and get swappin'!

THE FINE PRINT - Void where prohibited...which really is just my fancy way of saying that if I've had sex with you,  you gave birth to me, if I gave birth to you,  if you are a sibling (rivalrous or not), or in any, way, shape, or form related to me, nanny nanny boo boo, you can't enter the contest. 

Death by "Sound of Music"

I'm certain that this post is not going to earn me Mother of the Year!

It wasn't all that long ago that I loved the musical, The Sound of Music.  LOVED IT!  I knew all the songs by heart and enjoyed singing them to my little ones over the years.  As a matter of fact, I grew up with my musically talented Mommily singing the songs around the house.  Mommily has a beautiful voice and I loved hearing her sing. 

That was then.

This my luvlies, is NOW...

As far as I am concerned, Julie Andrews and all her tiny little musical minions in the film are evil. The spawn of Satan!

How is it that I have come to hate hearing those first few notes of "The Hills Are Alive with the Sound of Music" ?  How can I not fall over in love whilst the little ones sing "The Lonely Goatherd"? Why do my ears bleed when Captain Von Trapp sings "Edelweiss", and dread the droning of "Do Re Mi"?

It's simple really; over the last few weeks I have sat through The Sound of Music no less than 972 times.  You see, the Little Imp is so completely and totally enamored of the film and the songs, that we must start and end each day watching The Sound of Music.  We must watch it before naps.  Before we pee or poop, before we play with Play Doh, and we must certainly sing every bloody song before bed.

I used to think there was no worse ear worm (songs that get horribly, terribly, infinitely stuck in your head) than "The Lion Sleeps Tonight", or the stinkin theme from Barney.  I was wrong.  So so very wrong. I have come to the conclusion that there is no worse ear worm than "Do Re Mi."  At this very moment I am singing the song and considering how tempted I am to stick a knitting needle in my ear.

Is it wrong that I keep praying that the DVD player chokes on the movie sometime soon? Is it so very terrible that I want to fling the DVD from the back deck and shout with glee as it slams into a tree and smashes into a million silvery pieces?  Am I a horrible mother because I want to tell the Little Imp that if we watch the movie again the house will blow up...or at the very least, my head will explode, oozing gray matter everywhere?

What I find most ironic are two things...The Little Imp does not call the movie, "The Sound of Music", rather, she refers to it as "Maria."  She wants to watch Maria!  "Mommy it's time to watch Maria." "I'm singing like Maria, Mommy, watch me!"  "Mommy, I can dance like Maria."  Maria Maria Maria!  You're killin' me!  So what do you think the Little Imp's favourite song from the film is?  You got it!  "How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?"  As I sit here, I have some pretty definite ideas of my own, as far as how to solve a problem like Maria!

I am doomed.

Oh, and don't even get me started on this guy!  He's been on the Little Imp's radar lately and I'll have none of it!

 

Venison anyone?

 

Two Years Already?

Earlier today I received a comment from Teena in Toronto on yesterday's post and she happened to say; "Happy Blogoversary!"  Sure enough, it's been two years that I've been coming to you live (well, some days that's debatable!) from the Barking Mad Asylum. Unitl Teena mentioned it, I had totally forgotten.  I've been blogging since May of 2005 (I started out on Blogger with our first blog, AmeriBrit Baby - mostly as a means to keep in touch with family on the west coast and the hubby's family in the UK) but moved to TypePad two years ago today. I kind of felt like I'd outgrown Blogger and was looking for a platform with more features and access to CSS as well.  Not that I know anything about modifying the CSS, but there you have it.

I didn't even really know about the bloggy community out here and the wonderful people that existed.  I didn't know that at some of the lowest points of the past year, it would be you people who would reach out and pull me off the edge of the cliff, or take the razor blade out of my hands and point me in the direction towards the light at the end of the tunnel.   I find myself sitting here, two years later, very thankful in many ways for this outlet.  Oh sure, there's the occasional nastiness and drama that have almost made me throw in the towel on a few occasions, but again, it was you guys who held your hand out to me in friendship and compassion and pulled me back from the abyss.

I'm not quite certain what one does after two years and 512 posts and because I'm still trying to get the damned video from the other night uploaded, video that I'm dying to share with you guys, I'm going to throw out my ten favourite posts from the past two years.  I know a lot of you are brand new to the Barking Mad Asylum so here's a chance to get to see some of the madness that lives inside my head.

Fasten your safety belts and keep your hands and arms inside the blogicle at all times until we've come to a complete stop.  For your safety, blogsickness bags can be found to your immediate right.  In the event of a water landing, you're on your own!

Alright, you've been warned.

It Was Like Having Caterpillars on My Eyes - another prime example of why all of my vanity accoutramnets should be taken away from me.  But hey, I did find out that it DOES NOT take seven years for eyelashes to grow back!

Animal Magnetism - animals tend to come to me to annoy me, confuse me, endear me and to die. I don't know why, they just do!

Cape Elizabeth FFD Photography Exhibit - I get several comments asking about my photography.  I'm flattered because really, I'm not that great.  I know less about my camera than I know about it.  I know almost nothing about PhotoShop and am averse to learning because I want what comes straight out of my camera to be as honest as possible. OK well that and PS confuses the hell out of me.  Maybe once I actually sit down and figure out what the hell I'm doing with it, I'll feel less like I'm manipulating my images and more like I'm making them the best they can be.  Anyhow, here are my personal favourite photos and the ones that tend to garner the most attention.  Yes, I do love lighthouses! 

The Infamous Disneyland Trip - I was, point blank, a pain in the ass as a teenager.  This post just goes to drive that point home.

Those are NOT My Cats! - I love my cats so much that I had all their hair shaved off.  This post has no substance but all sorts of shock value! 

The Real Life Tales of a Trauma Magnet - pretty much sums up where I got the nickname, "Trauma Magnet" and just one of the reasons I avoid the state of Texas.

I Went Looking for One Thing and Found Another - My relationship with my eldest, Megawatt is ever evolving.  Sometimes it's painful and sometimes it's breathtakingly beautiful.   It's not been an easy road for the two of us.  I wasn't in her life for a long time.  I realized a lot about the two of us the day I wrote this.

Chipmunk...The Other White Meat - Meet Griffy.  We sometimes refer to him as a pain in the ass (he loves to drink water out of the tub, preferably with someone in it!), or our fearless spider-slayer.  The day I wrote this, we discovered he's a lethal Chipmunk killer as well!

The Revenge of the Vacuum Cleaner - I don't even know what to say about this.  Well, I guess I could say that my Dyson really sucks!  More proof that I really should be more careful around household appliances.

I am THAT Mom - I'll let my words speak for themselves.

It's been an interesting two years.  I think I might just stick around a few more.

The Baby Monitor

I think I might have mentioned that my little sister, Moosey, is having a baby;  Her first.  I'm very excited for her,  even more so because it's going to be a girl and so much of the tiny beloved things that belonged to the Little Imp will now be loved by a new baby.

As I was sitting downstairs going through soft cotton-flannel receiving blankets dotted with teddy bears and pink bows, little white onesies, and cozy pink and lavender sleepers, I thought that perhaps it was time to give up another semblance of the Little Imp's infanthood; the baby monitor.  I recalled seeing the exact same monitor on Moosey's baby registry and thought maybe I might send it to her along with all the other goodies. 

 

I walked upstairs with an armful of freshly laundered receiving blankets, sleepers, and cute little pink, purple, yellow and green outfits.  I walked into our bedroom and put the clothing and blankets on the bed and began folding them. They seemed so tiny in my hands.  Hard to believe they ever fit my walking, talking, singing, almost-3 year old.  As I sat there folding I could hear the soft breathing coming from the baby monitor on my nightstand.  As the Little Imp lay sound asleep in her bed, I was reassured by the sounds coming from the white monitor.  I thought back to the past nearly three years and how accustomed I've become to the monitor and the comfort it's provided, especially the first nervous weeks after she was discharged from the NICU and home with us.

The Little Imp was born almost 5 weeks prematurely.  Despite weighing in at a very healthy 8lbs 3oz and being 22 1/2 inches long, her lungs were terribly immature.  We knew this beforehand as my OBGYN tested the amniotic fluid once I went into labour.  We'd been warned that she may have some trouble breathing and that along with the regular delivery staff present at her birth, a team consisting of a Neonatologist and nurses from the NICU would be there and probably take her to the NICU immediately. 

Sure enough, only a mere moment or so after her birth she started displaying signs of respiratory distress.  I was only able to give her the smallest of kisses on her cheek before the medical team whisked her away from me, from arms that ached to hold her and a heart that already missed her nearness.

Things got worse with the Little Imp before they got better.   She developed two pneumothoraxes (holes in her lungs) which required she be placed on a high frequency ventilators.  I really had no idea what to expect the first time I saw her after I left the post-op recovery room.  The site of all the machines and tubes, and the noise; the noise of the ventilators, the noise of the alarms as they went off on babies in surrounding incubators, the constant buzz of all the machinery was almost too much. It made me wonder how the babies slept with the noise and hum.   Nothing prepared me though for seeing my tiny girl surrounded by all this.

 

 

There she was, so fragile and dependent on everything going on around her.  Nothing in the world is as shocking as seeing your newborn baby, practically for the first time, lying prone with so much attached to her, keeping her alive, breathing air into her tiny lungs which weren't prepared to support her on their own quite yet.

 

It seemed like there were tubes and cords everywhere.  There was also a tube running into her chest to drain the air that had escaped her lungs when they developed the holes which resulted in pneumomediasteinums - or pockets of air that became trapped in her chest cavity.

 

We did what we could to pass the time and keep our minds off the negative and to focus on the eventual day when she'd do this important work, this thing called breathing; completely on her own. 

She pulled through and was eventually weaned off the vents and left with only a nasal cannula, IV's in her head, and the chest tube. 

Then came the day I'd feared would never happen but did.  I finally got to hold my darling baby girl.  I sat there and drank her in.  Her small pink nose, her darling chubby cheeks and her tiny hands.  I placed my nose to her head and inhaled that wonderful newborn scent.  I sat and looked at her and memorized everything about her.  I rocked her and was soothed by her closeness. My rocking seemed to keep time with the hum of the machines, buzz of alarms and beeping of meters and measures.  Something about the constant accompaniment of all that noise seemed comfortable and familiar.

 

Bliss was not only seeing my little girl, on her way to health, but seeing her safely wrapped in her daddy's arms.

 

A few more days passed and eventually she was moved from the NICU to the newborn floor where she'd stay for another 7 days until she was weaned from the gavage tube and onto the breast.  Well, the move to the breast (she had been gavage-fed nothing but breast milk! I made sure of that!) was not without it's battles, mostly fought with hospital staff and nurses who tried to talk me into formula and bottle feeding, but that's a story for another post.  15 days after her birth, we were finally able to take her home.

 

The baby monitor has been a constant in our lives ever since. There hasn't been a night when I haven't placed my ear to it, to be reassured that she's breathing and peaceful.  Sometimes I do this several times a night.  Much the same way that all those machines, alarms and monitors in the NICU were strangely comforting, the baby monitor provides me with a reassurance that my baby girl's (humour me won't you?  It won't be long before I am really no longer able to call her my "baby" girl.) lungs are doing the important work they should be doing. It calms me and alleviates the "mommy-worry" I sometimes go through when she has the littlest case of the sniffles, or when she's been still for so long.   Toddlers are many things..."still" isn't usually one of them.

I don't think I'm quite ready to give up the baby monitor. Not just yet.  These last vestiges of babyhood are fleeting at best.  It won't be long before I look at this girl-child of mine and realize that the "baby" has all but vanished and standing in front of me is a little girl.