Suburban Bliss:: Birth Control Via The Written Word

Nighttime Parenting

Oh...hey, I have a blog?

I know I talk a lot about how I'm a really not great mom, but rather a perfectly acceptable mother. For the most part that's true, but I do think I nail a lot of the really important things on the head and then some of the other things I sort of....miss the mark on.

One of these things is Nighttime Parenting, a term I first came across while reading a Doctor Sears book where he stated, with a straight face, that 3 consecutive hours of sleep was considered "Sleeping Through The Night."

Three hours of sleep is not a night of rest, unless you're a robot and your name is Logan.

I am perfectly willing to admit in this public forum that I am an atrocious nighttime parent. It's one of the main reasons we decided to stop having babies after the second one who required a lot of nighttime parenting in the form of finding his God Damned Binky three or 4000 times a night.

I just don't feel like I'm the best parent I can be when I'm in the dark, crawling under a crib to retrieve 10 binkies and debating how terrible it would be to duct tape the stupid pacifier in to my beautiful son's mouth. Ha ha ha, I wouldn't really duct tape the binkies into his cry-hole. I'd only use band aids! (or super glue....)

The other night at 3am, Max came into my room, crying a little because he couldn't fall back asleep. So I explained that the only way to fall back asleep is to lay down and close your eyes and relax. (See, terrible nightime parent!)

But it could be worse, as it always can.

As a kid I used to have trouble sleeping in the night, I'd often have growing pains in my legs. My parents were also pretty bad nighttime parents (never mind the regular parenting...) and would tell me to "go walk around the coffee table until your legs don't hurt". So there I'd be for an hour or two in the middle of the night walking in circles around the coffee table until my leg still hurt but I was too tired to keep walking around the table and I'd go to bed.

So Max went back to his bed and proceeded to make the sound of a dying goat, the one he's made before. The one that makes me want to kill innocent puppies. Punch babies in the mouth. And burn my uterus in effigy. That sound is unpleasant at any time but especially at 4am.

I talked him down, pointing out that NO ONE CAN SLEEP when you make that horrible sound with your mouth. So try not making that sound and see if that helps your sleep situation.

But that's the problem with the goat sound he makes, he can't stop once he starts. So about 25 minutes into trying to talk him down off the ledge I gave up and said something along the lines of, "Fine! Lay in here and cry I guess because I don't know what to tell you!"

Excellent nighttime parenting. I could have maybe trumped myself by suggesting he pack his things and leave immediately which would have been helpful.

Luckily I'm not doing this whole parenting thing alone so Logan took over and got him to simmer down after 15 more minutes of explaining that sleep and bleating don't go together.

Maddie often tallies up the Favorite Kid score. She worries Max will win because she and I butt heads on just about everything. Like for example how she eats pizza, with cheese and tomato sauce, but refuses to accept pasta with cheese and tomato sauce as something edible.

The thing is Max will never be my favorite because of the nighttime parenting.

I guess they'll both have to be on equal footing.

Handing down traditions.

A few weeks ago I told the kids about how my siblings and I really liked to scare their grandmother half to death when we were kids. Specifically the time we put a rubber snake in the microwave and watched her throw herself through a plate glass window.

Oh boy that made an impression and ever since they've been wondering when Grandma will be coming to babysit. They came up with an elaborate plan to scare her with "something" in the microwave.  They practiced how they'd casually ask her to make some popcorn. It was agreed that Maddie would do the talking because, when they practiced, Max was unable to stop smiling when he said it. And that would give it all away.

Finally, yesterday Logan and I had plans to go out for drinks in Royal Oak. It was the perfect day for going out, the weather was perfect. I worked hard to look less suburban mother-ish. We ate sushi at Ronin where all the windows open onto the street. It was idyllic.

While we fed the kids dinner we sat on the deck and told the kids Grandma was finally coming over to babysit. And finally their evil plot could happen! They searched their toys for a rubber snake but we don't seem to have one. So instead they found a two foot long rubber shark.

And you can imagine how terrifying that would be. You mosey over to the microwave to pop a bag of popcorn, not suspecting a thing. You open the door, and

"OH MY GOD IT'S A LAND LOCKED SALTWATER FISH IN MY MICHIGAN BASED MICROWAVE!!!!"

I'm sure her hair will turn bone white!

So as we sat there Maddie did her thing. You know, her "thing" she inherited from me. Where she runs through all possible scenarios and particularly focuses on the Worst Case Scenario.

"Okay, so what if she opens the microwave and we give her a heart attack? Should I call you, or 911?"

"If she falls back and hits her head, do I just give her ice?"

"What if she is so scared she leaves, should we call you?"

So we assured her nothing was going to happen like that. That when I said Grandma threw herself through a plate glass window I was using hyperbole.

I guess grandma arrived after we left and wanted to take the kids out for ice cream. Which threw a dent in the plan because when faced with Ice Cream or Popcorn that would scare grandma half to death, they had to go with ice cream.

But not wanting to give up on the terror, Max suggested, "How about if we get ice cream but you look in the microwave before we leave?"

And Maddie rolled her eyes and grandma was maybe a little surprised to see a shark in the microwave.
But thankfully, no one had to call 911 and we didn't have to cut our night short.

Tonsillectomy Update

Back in November, after living through chronic sore throats for almost my entire life, I had my tonsils removed.

For years I've spent 2-4 days each month totally down for the count because of sore throats. For a lot of years it was just a sore throat with a mild cold like thing. The doctor prescribed an allergy nasal spray suggesting that the sore throat was from post nasal drip. That helped for a year or so and then I just accepted that I would feel sick every 4-6 weeks.

When I suggested to my doctor that maybe my tonsils needed to come out. They told me it's a very dangerous procedure for adults and really not called for since I didn't have tonsillitis or strep.

But I think I did have tonsillitis and it went undiagnosed and was called "Post Nasal Drip"

Finally, a couple of years ago I started to get strep infections. I had never had one case of strep in my entire life and suddenly Max got it, and it seemed like I never really got rid of it. So about once every 4-6 weeks I'd wake up with swollen glands and searing pain in my throat and up into my ears. I'd spend a day waiting to see the doctor, while alternately writing about how much pain I was in and whining to my family.

It was really quite fun.

Tastefull Tour: Eastern Market & Detroit

Last week when Logan was busy fighting the man, the absent man who could give two shits about right/wrong or the law,  I decided to join a bunch of moms from school and go on a Tastefull Tour, instead. You know instead of standing in a courtroom feeling indignant and angry.

I did that later.

This weekend Facebook recommended my Ex Landlord as a friend I might want to add. Isn't that nice of Facebook. Maybe I should just forget all about it, be the bigger person and be friends! Why fight! I'll just get another $2000 from the money tree in the basement and give him a couple thousand for his trouble! Thanks Facebook.

When I mentioned his appearance on Facebook, Logan's friend Adam chimed in with, "Can you imagine his status updates? 'Totally fucking my ex-tenant in the ass! Man it's great to be a douchbag!'"

But that day I went on a tour of Downtown Detroit Markets and Artisan Shops. It was a lot of fun spending the day out of the house in the sunshine with a bunch of people who are not my cats. A blog reader from Ann Arbor, (hi Susan!) came all the way out to go on this tour because it was such a great way to get reacquainted with Detroit.

You can see the entire set with details of each of the spots we visited at my Flickr set. And I'm begging you, begging you to please go to Supino at least once. Amazing.

Furious. Landlord loses!

This is going to be a really long post.

Years ago when I stopped speaking to my in laws, I was pretty upset about how things happened. It ate at me about 3-5 times a week. Then 1-2 times a week and so on until it really only got me all riled up when I talked about it.

Now, I rarely think about my in laws and when things come up with them I can barely even get my heart rate to rise. And there is definitely no smoke pouring out of my ears anymore. How did that happen?

Well time, of course, is one thing. It heals. But also I told close friends the whole long drawn out and involved story and that also helped. But finally, what finally did it, was throwing it all up in writing on a password protected Vox site. I gave just a few people I knew the password and let them read the whole thing.

The whole thing was a little wrapped up in the story about my father, so I'm sure that was all a little healing too.

I wrote it all down and left it up there for a few months and then one day someone asked to read it all and I suddenly realized it was a story I didn't want to tell anymore. I didn't need anyone else to hear it. I'd put it out there and now I was done with it. It wasn't going to help to know anymore eyeballs looked at it and knew what had happened. So I pulled the whole thing down and I was finally over it.

I'm hoping the same thing happens with the Ex-Landlord when I'm done with this post and we've gone through the two-plus month process of collecting our money from him. Although I think the final step will be publishing the judgement (a public record) so anyone else dealing with this person will know.

I've been so incredulous over the condescending, arrogant and bullying way this man behaves, I've never known someone to be so awful. So reliably awful. As I went through and pulled out emails to print in preparation for our day in court, I was amazed.

I've mentioned most of those emails here.
The one where he told us to shovel snow from the house to keep the basement from flooding and ice dams from forming on the roof (COMMON SENSE FOLKS!).
The one where he told us to remove our Obama sign from our yard.
The one where accused us of breaking his microwave oven ON PURPOSE
The one where he blamed us for the sewage back up in the basement because we....he never said how we did it...I assume he thought we shit too much.
The one about the tile in the bathroom falling off the walls because it got wet (but ignoring the fact that he put up tile using adhesive, not tile mastic).

Logan met with a lawyer a few times to get ready for the case figuring out the best way to handle thing and he came up with a large binder full of emails, notes, and pictures. And on Wednesday night he said, "I'm really serious, I don't think you should come to the courthouse with me. I don't think you'll be able to control yourself."

I said, "But what if I promise not to say anything?"

He said, "You'll still sigh loudly and incredulously at everything he says."

I said, "I'll wear a ball gag and a leash!"

He said, "That won't stop your eye rolling."

And I had just about enough anxiety about even seeing the Ex Landlord (how I want to use his full name) that I finally said, "Fine, I won't go." Instead I went on a Tastefull Tour with my friends to Eastern Market and other Detroit establishments. Supino can really take your mind off your douchbag* ex landlord.

*Only my opinion! Not slander or libel or whatever everyone is freaking out about on Twitter!

I left Logan to go in and present our case and bite his tongue off at the arrogant assholery of our Ex Landlord.

And

He didn't even show up.

He's kept this going for five months and he didn't even show up to try and defend his theft of our money? (Law Note: Your security deposit is yours until your landlord lays claim to it. If you disagree with his claim then he has to defend his claim to your money. Our landlord did neither, which meant he should have been liable for double the security deposit. Apparently the judge in our case doesn't do this unless this is a chronic issue with a landlord.)

We spent hours of time preparing to go in front of a judge and explain how wrong the landlord was to claim we were responsible for $2500 worth of damage to his home. We also wanted a clarification of what we understood to be state law that a landlord MUST send you an itemized list and if he didn't he forfeited our money. (Legal Note: Michigan State Law: 554.609)

And now, we did it all for nothing since when you don't show up for your court date, you automatically lose the case.

So ....we won! We won our money back from the landlord! It was ours all along. The amusing thing to me is that he had a valid claim to a damaged cabinet door in the bathroom (GARY), that we were willing to pay $100 for and he also could have withheld around $300 for a water bill I assumed he'd take out of our security deposit, but didn't mention it in his contractor's estimate or in any communication within 30 days of our move so he forfeits any claim. In that way I suppose we saved ourselves $400 by going through all this.

So now we wait 21 days to see if he sends us a check, he won't. Then we do something else and something else and it takes about three weeks and they get the money from him by going into his bank account or seizing and selling things until he pays us. A sherrif or Barack Obama does this or something.

What I don't understand and what's really frustrating from the perspective of a tenant, is how he's getting away with this obvious fraud without paying any kind of penalty for his horrendous behavior.

What possible incentive does any landlord have for the honest evaluation of damages and return of a security deposit if he faces absolutely no consequences for his illegal and unethical practices?

Okay now here's the part where I tell the whole story from beginning to end so when some poor sap like me is googling "Landlord Is Ripping Me Off" or "Landlord Won't Return Security Deposit" Or "Why do Michigan laws not protect tenants?" Or "My landlord is an incredible douchebag* how do I prove that in court?"

*just my opinion!

It's going to be boring and factual but I want to write it all out because we spent all this time on it and I'm hoping it makes me feel better.

All he had to do was ask.

This is a week I've been dreading for a couple of months now. On Thursday Logan is strapping a muzzle on my face and we're heading into a courtroom with our ex-landlord. I am going to try really hard not to flip him off under the table and I will most likely not stick my tongue out at him either.

In preparation for the big day I've been reading over old emails. Like this gem, in response to Logan letting him know that tiles had fallen off the wall.

"Keep the shower curtain closed and don’t leave the wall wet when using the shower. If it is wet then dry it.  Common sense."

Uh....I guess I could have tried to take a shower without water.

Sigh...this is going to be fun. In other news....

April starts a new season in our house, the season of opening and shutting windows. It's a fun little game Logan and I like to play. He tries to freeze me to death by opening every window in the house and I try to regulate my body temperature by closing all those windows. When I turn my back he reopens all the windows, just so I don't get too comfortable.

He finds the cold "refreshing", I find it Arctic and uncomfortable. On Sunday morning I had to throw on a parka to eat breakfast.

But the good news is when summer comes and it's hot and humid outside, he also likes to open all the windows and let the heat in forcing me to take off all my clothes just to regulate my body temperature.

Wait a minute...

The Badger Dance

I thought for Christmas it would be fun to get a Flip camera for the family. I thought we'd all enjoy having digital video capability, and at the price I'd let the kids run around with the camera.

Some weird stuff has come into the house since then.

Daily Grommet and Sex Face

Nataly from Work It, Mom asked me to suggest a product for the Daily Grommet and so I did. You can see what I picked over here.

For Christmas I bought a flip video camera and I appear to lack the appropriate skills to get the video off the camera, onto the computer and then onto the internet. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Every time is a mystery!

But I was able to send along a video of Logan using my pick and they used an edited version for the piece.

I thought I'd share the full version here so you can see Sex Face.

Sex Face is the face Logan makes at me when I make a sexually suggestive double entendre. It's a difficult look to explain, you kind of have to see it. But when I get The Face I get a special charge so now I try to get him to make it a few times a day.

You really hit the jackpot when you can get The Face over the phone. You can actually hear The Face.

Enjoy!

Did They Eat It: Spaghetti Carbonara

The other day I sent out some smoke signals on Twitter. The smoke signals said, "Help! I'm a suburban housewife and I don't know what to make for dinner." Then I put a finger on my cheek and looked vaguely helpless and 100 strangers favorited my picture on Flickr.

Then I got this note, a version of spaghetti carbonara that is immensely simplified and easy to prepare. If you're a spaghetti carbonara purist, please don't read any further because I know. There's no wine or cream or any of the things that MUST be in carbonara. This is going to be our special version everyone!

Maddie's Room

In the last house we never made it upstairs to do much of anything to the bedrooms. We were too busy entertaining and loving the neighborhood.

So now that we have the living room painted and settled in we decided to tackle the kid's rooms so they'll feel settled in here for the two years we'll be staying.

Maddie wanted blue for her walls so we had the paint matched to the blue on her comforter. Then I threw the paint on the floor.

I don't recommend throwing your paint on the floor. It's one of those moments where you're faced with a mess of such mammoth proportions you just stand there not sure how to proceed. So I sort of yelled, "I need help!" and then I stood and swore a lot. Magically (Logan) it got cleaned up.

Adding some color to the walls was as satisfying as usual, but more satisfying was putting out Maddie's collections of stuff.

The tiny version of me, without the childhood trauma.

We're on the tram at the airport. Maddie hops on and grabs the pole in the middle. Then tells Max to move to the middle. No, not there. Stand here Max. She needs to be sure he's in a good, safe spot. "Thank you Mini Mom," I say.

It's 6am, we're scheduled for breakfast at 9am. Maddie calls out from the other room, "I think we should really get up now so we're not late." I tell her I have my alarm set, we'll have plenty of time if we get up at 8am. Go back to sleep I'm taking care of you.

We're walking around Georgetown, waiting for our car to arrive to take us home. I have the GPS on my phone set up so we don't get lost. Maddie is very worried with every block we take. I tell her I know exactly where we are. She acts shocked when the hotel is exactly where I said it would be.

I suggest we all try going to the bathroom before the plane starts loading. Max says he doesn't need to go, Maddie tells him he really should try. "I'll hold your backpack for you."

Our seat assignments are not together. There's a stranger sitting between Maddie and Max and I'm a few rows up in the window seat. I assure Maddie the stranger will switch seats with me, don't worry. But ha, of course she worries. We talk to the attendant at the desk about our seats, asking if we can switch. She calls the name of the man sitting between the kids and we wait for him. After about 5 minutes she says, "You know what? If he's not happy switching seats, he's probably a pedophile so let's just go ahead and make the switch." Maddie says, as we walk away, "What's a pedophile?"

We're sitting on the floor together eating candy and waiting for our turn to board the plane. Maddie and I are laughing about her worries. She says, 'I think I have a disease of worrying."

I tell her about the medicine I take every day to help me with my worrying. How I worried a lot as a kid too. I worried about my sister, I worried about something bad happening if I wasn't at home to keep it from happening. I worried about school.

She says, "Wow, you worried a lot. I don't worry that much. But I do worry a lot. Maybe I should take that medicine."

I tell her that her body and her brain is changing all the time, that who she is today isn't who she's always going to be. I remind her how going into the school every day used to be too hard for her, and now she never has a problem. She says how she was so worried about riding the bus but she just kept telling herself it would be okay. And it was.

Maybe some day you'll decide with a doctor that taking some medicine will help your brain work differently but for now she's doing great.

She says, "Yeah, and I'm not even afraid to talk on the phone.....like some people."