Raising Animals

For those of you that have read my blog before, you know that I am a working mom with 3 kids, ages 3, 4, and 14, and a spouse that is still in training.  I’ve posted before about my children’s antics, and how they never cease to amaze me.  From my chaotic mornings to the day I thought I lost Little Man to me having my Biggest Mommy Tantrum Ev-ahhh  ….. I’ve had my share of reasons as to why I feel this “parenting” business is not about raising children, but it’s about RAISING ANIMALS.

Yesterday this was confirmed.

Thank you, Little Man.

You see….before Little Man, I only knew the workings of little girls.  Little girls are easy.  Little girls don’t climb.  Little girls don’t jump off the highest surface they can get up onto.  Little girls are decent.

Little girls would never think to pee outside…..

 

Not that my girls are angels or anything of the sort.  They can fight like cats.  And when I say CATS, I don’t mean cute little furry kittens, oh hell to the no!  I mean CATS!  The big furry ones with pointy teeth and sharp claws.  Animals…..

 

But yesterday…..OMFG…..this is a true story. 

The spouse was in the bathroom upstairs.  I ran downstairs to flip a load of clothes.  I faintly hear the spouse tell Little Man, “Hang on…I’m coming out.”  Now, Little Man is a bit over 3 years old and ever since our talk about the “poop police coming”, and also since I made him walk around without any pants or Pull-Ups until he took a shit on the potty, he has been pooping in the potty.  Like clockwork.  God forbid we are anywhere but near a potty at 5pm. 

So, when the spouse didn’t open the bathroom door right away when Manny jiggled the knob saying he had to poop, Little Man took matters into his own hands.

I came upstairs to the spouse asking where Manny was.  I said I didn’t know, I had been in the laundry room.  He relayed that Manny said he had to poop and maybe he went downstairs to use that bathroom.  I thought, oh shoot….and I turned off all the lights not knowing he was down there!

So I go downstairs.

No Manny.

No Manny in any of the rooms upstairs either.  We ask Little Lady where he went.  Little Lady, being 4 going on 24, says he went outside. 

WTF??  Alone??

Again??

We go outside to find Little Man standing where the dog usually does her business, his pants around his ankles, just looking at us.

And we look at this….

 

 

The interrogation from the Dad begins…..

“Manny.  Is this YOUR POOP???”

 

Well….it certainly looked like his poop.  And he WAS standing there with his pants around his ankles.  And he WAS a wee bit embarrassed to look us in the eye…..

 

 

And here I was, worried about the Little Man spewing F-Bombs in public rendering me totally humiliated.  I swear, if he ever feels the need to take a crap outside in public, I will personally check myself in at the nearest psychiatric facility.

What have YOUR little animals done to make you re-think this parenting business? 

Oh, and if you want to know more about my Little Man-imal….you can read it here.  Just don’t say I haven’t warned you.

 

Happy Thursday!!

All By My Self

There is some part of the English language that I wish I could just do away with.  Oh, for Pete’s sake, I’m not talking about my potty mouth, I could NEVER do away with THAT!  I’m talking about things that I have to keep repeating….Day. After. Day. After. Day.

Like….

Do you have to pee??

Are you stinky?

 

“Who??  Me??  Not stinky….”

 

And also I’d like to stop having to say….

NO!!

STOP!!

Keep your hands to yourself!

Who used my brush??  Where is it??

We do NOT eat in the living room!

Where’s Manny?  (He’s forever disappearing)

 

“Here I am!”

 

 

There are also some things that I wish my children would stop saying…

Look at me!

Watch this!

Mom!  Mom!  Mom!!

He touched me!!

I can’t see the TV!!

He’s not sharing!!

Where’s Manny?

 

“Just going to work, Mom.”

 

Some things that I hope to NEVER stop hearing…

I love you, Mom!

I did it!  Alllll byyyy My. Self!

 

At least her shoes match….this time.

 

And I would die if they stopped saying….

You’re the best!

Will you sit with me, Mom?

I found him!!

 

Totally exhausted.

 

 

 Some things other people say that make me cringe just a wee bit…

Can I help?  (The help of a three year old does not always end well)

He was here a minute ago…..

I thought you were watching him.  (Oh dear Spouse…..what am I going to do with you???)

 

I did it!  Allll byyyy myyyy self! 

 

Now….I wonder WHO on earth taught my Little Man that it’s ok to take a piss off the back of the deck??

 

Like father.  Like Son.

 

Happy Thursday!!

 

A Sign

Signs….seriously, they are everywhere.  Sometimes I understand them….sometimes I just stop and ponder….

 

 

Seriously…is this not redundant?? 

The kind of “sign” I’m talking about is a “sign” we give with our hands.  Like a wave “hello”, a thumbs up when something is done right, a “talk to the hand” kinda sign when a co-worker is a bitch-bitching away…..

Sometimes we see people and they give us a sign and we smile…

 

I love you.

 

Sometimes we get a sign and we would like to pummel the other person with a sledgehammer….

 

Loser.

 

A few weeks ago we had some people over and my sister and I were having a conversation with her daughter-in-law.  It was a little noisy with other people talking, it was late in the evening, and we may or may not have had a bit too much wine, but we laughed hysterically at our wit when we recognized a “gesture” as a “sign in the making”!  You see, her daughter-in-law was describing a website window with 2 screens, one on top of the other…..

Well, this is what I pictured anyways with they way her hands were demonstrating the screen like so….

 

“There’s one window on top of the other…..”

 

But then….you see, my sister got all lost in the conversation, again, maybe having something to do with the wine consumption, and she said, “What the hell was that with your hands??”  ….and she made the gesture.

It was explained once again, and then my sister stated, “Oh, I thought that was some kind of sign you were making at me….”

So then….we looked at each other, and because we think so much alike, we both made the sign at each other and said, “Grrrrr, fuck you!”

(Cuz that’s how we roll)

I know, I know….you may not be getting this whole “sign” thing here, and if not, it’s okay because my spouse was not really laughing too much either.   I figured he just didn’t get it.  (Sometimes that happens….)  Or maybe the alcohol had gotten to him too.  Regardless, we are so gonna use this sign and start a trend.  In fact….my spouse, who I thought was clueless when we had this conversation, was the first person to use the sign other than my sister and I.

My teen’s facebook got hacked.  After the spouse posted something about all hackers getting crucified or something by the Sicilian side of my daughter’s family, he looked at me and said THIS:

 

“Hackers beware!”

 

So, yeah….and then some!!

He WAS paying attention to the conversation.

Just when you think you’ve got ‘em figured out.

 

Happy Monday!!

 

Change

 

Mr. Sake here. My turn again……

I HATE CHANGE!!!  I’m not talking about the jingly coins floating around in my front pocket here, I’m talking about new circumstances – as in The-Times-Are- A- Changin’ kind of change. There are very few times I have been thrilled with change. The day my Lady and I became Mister and Misses - that was awesome! The days each of our younger ones were born – exceptional.  The day I got my new shiny yard tractor – ON TOP OF THE WORLD!!!!!

(Insert eye-roll from Mrs. Sake)

The change that bugs me involves my being a creature of habit. I like stuff to stay just the way it is, the way that I am used to. I want to be able to traverse my life with my eyes closed, knowing exactly what’s coming next. The reality is that with my eyes closed I have gotten a few (several ….. hundred) deep bruises. (I tell him to WATCH OUT on a daily basis, but…..)

CHANGE.  I love my old cell phone. So I took the big step and got a new one – same brand, newer “better” model. AHEM. Hack-hack. Excuse me, had to clear my throat. (He’s been whining all day about not being able to figure it out.  Shhhhhh….I promised not to tell.)

CHANGE.  My hair is not turning grey – IT’S TURNING FLIPPIN’ LOOSE!!!! Enuf said.  (Silence from Mrs. Sake…)

CHANGE.  WE’RE OUT OF COFFEE!!!!!!!   (NEXT TIME PUT IT ON THE LIST!!!!)

CHANGE.  The kids are growing. They are becoming less/more dependent on me. No more diapers (good change). Cleaning the bathroom every two hours due to poor aim – yep – bad change.  (Now if we can teach Mr. Sake how to aim we’ll be in business!)

CHANGE.  The Tween becomes a teen – bad bad bad bad bad! Makeup, hair, BOYFRIEND! Not in this house, girly! (Mrs. Sake nixed my idea right away)  :)

CHANGE.  WHO MOVED MY HAT???!!!!!   (It’s on your head…just saying….)

CHANGE.  New office assistant at work – the owner’s sister - bad change. I’ve been here 14 years lady. You are an ASS-istant. I am upper-level management. GET OUTTA MY FACE!

CHANGE.  Kids go from tricycles to bicycles …….. Where’s the first-aid kit?

CHANGE.  Wife gets new job (#2 in six months) - with new hours…….. Where’s MY first-aid kit?

CHANGE.  WHY DO I HAVE TO KEEP MY JACKET IN THE CLOSET???!!!!!!   (I say he’s lucky to HAVE a closet….)

CHANGE.  WallyWorld remodels into a super-store. I can’t even find the damn light bulbs!!! 

 

  (Mr. Manly-Man…..too stubborn to ASK?)

CHANGE.  DAWN DISH SOAP IS THE BEST – WAYYYYYY BETTER THAN THIS CRAP!!!!!

CHANGE.  The Teen wants to try new stuff, every fad, experience more – but doesn’t want to try washing the dishes. Maybe it’s the soap.

CHANGE.  The four year old becomes part of the house administration. She’s got a quicker wit than me.  (Did I tell you the one where Mr. Sake had to go for an MRI due to “mental status changes”???  Teeheehee!!!) 

CHANGE.  My knees are killing me. What do you mean arthritis? You got your medical degree where? Cracker Jack?

CHANGE.  WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’M NOT YOUNG ANY MORE???!!!!!  (MRI #2?)

CHANGE.  The recliner is mine.  Get your teenage ass off it and find somewhere else to speed-text.

CHANGE.  Who used my last razor?  WTF?  How the hell am I supposed to maintain my dignity after shaving with a PINK one?? (I say, “Suck it Up, Fuzzy Face!”)

CHANGE.  WE’RE OUT OF COFFEE!!!  (Oh dear Lord…wasn’t this already mentioned?  Put it on the fucking list already!)

…..and yes, pocket change is bad too.  Pocket change means we’re spending money we really shouldn’t.  More potential debt.  Bad change.  (Retail Therapy)

And by the way…don’t you think for one second that I didn’t notice the CHANGES that Mrs. Sake made to this post.  How could I not?  They are purple!  Geesh!  What do you think I am?  An idiot???

~ Mr. Sake

A-hem….does anyone see COFFEE on the list???  I thought not.

~ Mrs. Sake

What Did You Say???

Well, since I don’t have a wholelotta time, I figured I would join in with Sippy Cups Are Not for Starbucks  and give you a taste of MY : 

 

 

Sitting here trying to think while listening to Little Man and Little Lady play Mario Kart on the Wii….it’s rather distracting.  In fact, everything is rather distracting lately.  I blame my current employment situation since I am being pulled in every direction there.  Unfortunately, I have 4 more days there at their beck and call.  I’m hoping to come out of there without any BLOOD STAINS. 

This week I turned 44.  You heard me…..Forty-fucking-FOUR!  Is that a crock of shit or what??   It’s really puzzling for me to even THINK of myself NEAR fortyfuckingfour because I still have a couple of THESE to raise….

 

 

That’s Little Man, and he’s three.  I also have a 4 year old and a 13 year old that will be 14 next week!!

Ok, go ahead…say it….What the fuck was I thinking???

I wasn’t.

Add my 44-and-three-quarter-year-old spouse (yes, he’s much older than I) that acts like he’s TWO most of the time and you get one crazyass fourtyfuckingfour year old lady!!

I’ve also recently started a low-carb….

Wait…let me pause and say the two year old mentioned above is editing my blog while I am typing….No, not Little Man, I would be referring to my spouse…..

 

 

As I was saying….I’ve also recently started a low-carb diet.  It’s really not so bad eating pepperoni…..pork rinds….cheese……although it’s a little worrisome since I have my nursing background and I KNOW the sodium and the fat and the sodium….oh, and the SODIUM….did I mention the sodium???  I know it’s not good for me.  BUT…here’s the thing…I’m not swelling up at all like before.  How the fuck does the body work anyways???

 

My Little Man got a bruise on his cheek at the sitter’s this week.  I was pissed.  I asked him what happened and he said one of the other kids squeezed his cheeks and said, “you can’t have any gum!”  It really wasn’t making sense and I was getting even more ticked off so I asked his sister.  Hell, she’s four, she knows everything, right?  She looks at me and says, “Mackenzie squeezed his face like a guppy!!” 

 

Ouch.  Seriously??

 

What’s up with that?  When I asked the sitter, she had no idea it even happened and that pissed me off even more than my son being made into a guppy.   Who doesn’t notice THIS?

 

 

Oh Dear Lord….on top of the guppy incident, Little Man has been saying something that sounds similar to “Fuck”…or “Fucky fucky fuck”…..could be “truck”, “trucky trucky truck”??  “Ducky duck”??  Oh please….tell me it isn’t so.    In fact, I think it just came out of his mouth 2 seconds ago.  I did a  180 in my chair and I was ready  for battle….

 

 

And at that very moment…the four year old that knows it all, from squeezing faces like guppies, to when to say “I love you, Mom”…..she says, as if she is only informing us because we don’t always understand what Little Man is saying…yes, she says,

“I think he said fuck again.”

Straight faced.

Just stating a fact.

Lilli-OMG-dont-ever-say-that-again-OMG-that-is-a-very-very-VERY bad word!!!  (I think I’m having palpitations)

“I love you, Mom.”

I love you, too, Lil.

And this is when I decided….I am NOT up for Mother-of-the-Year once again.  Fuck.

Big sigh.

Where Is My Wife?

It's me – Pete….some of you know me as Mr. Sake as in “Oh For Pete’s Sake!”

Things have been a bit hectic around here so once again I'm here to fill in the blanks.

I think the last time Mrs. Sake had the chance to actually sit down to write about her trials was sometime in the early 1900's. No, we certainly are not that old and Al Gore wasn't even born yet so how could the internet even have possibly existed?  You get the idea, hence there is a lot of subject matter that could be covered here but I intend to focus on just one - lucky for you. 

As faithful followers you know that Mrs. Sake took on a new job with greater responsibility- probably more than she actually wanted but certainly not beyond her capabilities. This new position is a managerial position at a nursing home.  She has invested her soul into proper care of our elderly population and her attention to details made her a perfect fit for the job.

Throughout the past six months she not only had to deal with a tremendous backlog of paperwork -which she promptly updated - but she improved the performance of her position to beyond that of any of her predecessors. The improvement has been so profound that all worries about anything having to do with her oversight are not questioned. There are no concerns - not by the director of nursing, not by the site administration, and not even by the corporate board.

This is where everything really begins to take shape. She is so efficient that the site administration regularly asks her to cover for other manager shortfalls no matter what they may be. Sometimes it is assisting other managers to complete their duties but usually she is asked to assist with staff scheduling errors. This is a polite way of saying they take advantage of her efficiency and "request" that she perform typical RN duties for the residents. This usually involves her staying hours beyond her normal shift.

Gripe #1: It is known that registered nurses command a good hourly pay rate, nurse managers are salaried employees. Therefore there is no additional compensation for the extra hours she puts in. Can you say…

It would be one thing if the additional time was a direct result of something she did not do in her titled position but this is not the case. Worst part is the managers directly responsible for needing her to perform the extra hours are clock-watchers and out of the building when their shifts are complete. Fair? NOT!!! 

Gripe #2: On-call/Manager-on-duty weekends. This happens on a regularly scheduled rotation involving all the nurse managers. She has a employee schedule to look after and a company cell phone for staff to contact her directly in emergency - resident or staffing.  I hate that cell phone so much that I almost took it for a swimming lesson in the creek behind our house on several occasions.  One weekend that phone was ringing so often that she only got 4 hours sleep over 72 hours. That phone wakes me too and we both are on edge when it rings. She lost her Mother's Day weekend to that phone. And Father's Day weekend - you guessed it - we have that damn phone again. Yes I said "we". That phone affects all of us here at home.

Gripe #3: Dateline Monday thru Wednesday. Wife is awakened with my kiss at 530AM to begin her day. Shower, teeth brushed, makeup. Wake the Littles and get them ready - a task in itself. She reports to work at 8AM and works till 530PM- no lunch of course. Tuesday- same early routine, same report time. Only this time her work day extends to 7PM. Why? Because she is once again being taken advantage of and working the floor. Where are the other managers? GONE!!! Remember, for them it’s 5PM and out. Wednesday- same morning routine (either we are creatures of habit or slaves to society). Her workday starts as usual only this time there is a state inspector on site. Usually routine but not this time. A resident is losing weight at a questionable rate. The nurse managers are all over the facility making sure nothing is left undone. Then the fun begins. 530PM comes around and Mrs. Sake is asked to work 7PM to 4AM as a floor RN. Ironically I texted her prior to that saying if they asked her to work extra that day I would blow the roof off the place with the sheer volume of my voice. To my disdain she reluctantly agrees. Apparently the night was uneventful until 4AM. Where was the nurse coming on shift? 430? 5AM?  600AM and finally she shows up - 22 hours after Mrs. Sake's work day began. So that's three days and 41 work hours. Oh so kind was administration that they offered in advance that the misses could have Thursday off. Not good enough. Friday too or no overnight shift. They reluctantly agreed.  Kicker- on Friday she needed to report in to pick up the On-call/Manager-on-duty phone and papers because it was her scheduled weekend.

This place has made my wife into something she is not….

 

Let’s all hope and pray my wife returns from this ordeal with her spirit still intact, her love of nursing still present, and  oh yeah….no blood stains.

~Mr. Sake

And this is how it has gone down…for real.  I have 5 more days left for them to use and abuse me at this place, and I cannot wait to be done.  Not because of MY job, but because of all the EXTRAS.  You know…”duties as assigned”??  Fuck that!  From this point on “duties as assigned” better be written out for me or I am walking the other way!

When I start my new adventure, I will have several days where I will be able to blog, to spend time with my kids, clean the house, and  maybe even cook dinner!!  Imagine that!! 

Give Mr. Sake a round of applause for summing up my first (and last) six months of employment at this facility.  I am thankful he has been able to pick up that slack as I was being held captive sorting out the mess that I got myself into with this new position!

Here’s to new adventures and leaving the past….well….in the past!!

 

I Am Special

I wrote this in May….I wasn’t going to post it until I was done working out my notice but I have 2 more weeks to go and nothing much has changed.  It is what it is and I am almost D.O.N.E.   Time to move on…yes, time to move on!!  Why??  Because I AM more special than THIS…..

I. Am. Special.  I belong to a “team” or so they call it at my place of employment.  The special “management team”.

We MANAGE our own jobs to the T.  We also MANAGE the jobs of others as best we can.  Some times we think we manage the other jobs better than the other person can actually DO the job.  It’s really rather amusing if you ask me.

The other day, as a management team member, I was pulled to the unit to do the job of one of the NON-management personnel.  Yep…I can do it.  And I did it without one temper tantrum, and I did it without shedding one tear.  Was I happy?  Nope.  I have not been trained properly to do this person’s job.  BUT….I HAVE been trained to manage the person that normally does the job.

Are you following me here?

That’s right.  Our management team is special because we are there to manage other people without really knowing how the other people perform their job.  It’s amazing.

On top of the managing part of our jobs, we have our own jobs.  And yes, our jobs are also managed by someone higher up than we are.  I do my job to the best of my ability but I am still new at it.  I give it my all and then some more.  Mostly because I’m scared of the management above me, but also because I care.

Last week I was supposed to help with the company Memorial Day picnic and my job, as management, was to serve ice-cream.  Yep.  That was my job.  BUT, that was the day I got pulled to one of the units to pass meds.  I was so worried there wouldn’t be another person from our special management team qualified to serve the ice cream, because when this was mentioned to me, there was absolutely no discussion…I MUST be present at the picnic. 

Being pulled to the unit to pass meds was worrisome….yes it was.  I was worried the ice cream would go un-passed and this would be so detrimental to the image we are trying to build back up within the community. 

Not once as I sweat my ass off passing meds hoping I was doing the right thing for the right patient did I see one of my “team players” offering to help me.  I figured they must be busy getting ready for the picnic.  No big deal. 

The food was set up on the unit where I was working.  I was starving because I did not get a break at all….well, I had one break but hell with food, I needed to smoke! 

During the busy med pass I had one of the management team come up to me and tell me all staff had to move their vehicles off the property to make room for the many community members who were expected to attend our awesome picnic.  I could not leave to move my car.  I was passing fucking medication!!  So, one of the nice team members offered to move it for me.  Nice.   Asshat!

When I took my break I went out the back way so no one would see me go smoke…and man…you should have seen all the cars in the lot!!  I was amazed!! 

 

Allllll these people came to OUR special Memorial Day picnic??  No way.

After the party was over I watched as the special management team members cleaned up the mess.  I gave report to the on-coming nurse and then sat to chart because I felt that I would get crucified if I missed anything.  I got out late.  But what really pissed me off is that not ONE of my “team-mates” even stopped to see if I needed anything before they left.  They were gone.  Every. Last. One. Of. Them.  

G.O.N.E.

What the fuck??  Seriously??

Thank God for my sister that I coerced into working there with me.  She was working on another unit and we were able to walk out of there with our heads held high like we didn’t give a fuck about anything.  We felt “special” to have to walk a half a mile to find our vehicles that the “management team” had offered to move for us. 

Regardless, I was sort of questioning how special I really was until this weekend. 

 

This weekend…… I received a card in the mail from my place of employment.  This is how I KNEW just exactly how special they think I am.  You see…it was a birthday card.  Picked out especially for me.  I know it took someone a good long time to pick it out and to get everyone to sign it.  Yeah…that must have been quite hectic to do.  If you look closely you will see……

 

 

Yep!  I signed my own fucking card in one of our morning meetings!!  Don’t you think they would work at little harder at not having the person sign their own card when all the cards are passed around to sign??  Don’t you think????  Aren’t we all more special than that???

And…my birthday is in JUNE, you muther truckers!!