Are men on the entitlement program?

What is it about guys, that make them feel that they are on the entitlement program?

They work all day, come home exhausted, and then plop themselves in front of the TV, tuning out the world. They claim that they worked hard all day, that they just want to relax, and watch some TV.

Really? Because we worked hard all day long, too. Don't we deserve a little downtime? Instead, we have to take care of the kids, fix dinner, throw in some laundry, do dishes, and prepare lunches for the next day. This of course, on top of changing diapers, feeding the kids, who won't eat the dinner you are currently making, give them a bath, read them a bedtime story, brush their teeth, and manage to get them to bed. After they're in bed, we have to finish picking up, folding laundry, putting it away, and somehow, manage to get some more work done.

Ladies, do you feel me? I've been listening to you. This seems to be an imbalance across the land. One that we accept, to keep the peace, but inside we want to scream, INJUSTICE BE DAMNED!! How in the world is this fair?

Just today, I was talking to one of my clients, and she was telling me that her husband comes home after work and plops himself in front of the TV, not lifting a finger after his ass hits the cushion. It reminded me of someone.....oh yeah, ME!! I thought, my gosh, this goes on in other homes too? Well, I'll be damned!

Ladies, we need to figure out how to balance this stuff out. I really think we would be much more agreeable, less bitchy, less tired and more likely to be a lot more fun, if we actually had some help.

Guys, you might be the breadwinner, but that doesn't mean you get to suck up all the downtime. Be more helpful and take an hour to yourself, then give your lady a break. Maybe it's your turn to give baths, brush teeth, read bedtime stories and tuck the kids in. That will give your hard working lady some downtime. Then maybe, just maybe, she might want to spend some time with you at the end of the night. And if you're really lucky, she might even have sex with you, because she won't be quietly figuring out how to sneak rat poison into your food! You were helpful. Her knight in shining armour for the evening, helping her slay dragons, in the little people form.

Ladies, we need to speak up and ask for help. I am just as guilty, so I'm not preaching. I just know we take the silent approach, thinking we have to do it all. There is power in negotiation. I believe that it's important to figure out what works for your relationship and schedule, but for me I think I'm going to add some more things to my list. Lately, I've been coming home and working my tail off. Billy will then take the baby to bed, and I am up until 1:00am doing everything I need to do, including unwinding from the day. I think though, that I need to be smarter about sharing the "wealth", and asking him to take on more responsibilities at home.

 We have been trying to balance as we go along. I have come to realize, that as my workload increases, I have less downtime, and  have to adjust. I think it hit home last night, when at 9:30pm I ran into my neighbor in the laundry room. He said to me, "You are ALWAYS doing laundry. I feel so bad for you." I thought, "Jeez, is it that bad? I guess I am always doing laundry. Par for the course with five people in the house."

In my house, this shouldn't be a huge issue, when I bring it up. I think he will welcome the added responsibility (Yeah right) because he knows how hard I work (He's just happy he doesn't have to do it all) and he will want to help out (He says he'll help more during summer, when he's off. But I know that isn't true. He'll have volleyball, basketball and golf, combined with weekly poker games to do, exhausting him more and thereby causing him be too tired to lift a finger.). I will stay positive and fight the good fight (No you won't. You'll be passive-aggressive and blog about it)............Would someone knock the devil off my shoulder, please??? I'm tired of listening to her.....

Now, I must sign off and put the baby to bed, because Billy is at his weekly poker game. Dear Lord, give me the strength.............

What would you do?

Before I get to the heart of this blog, I want to make sure everyone understands that I am not degrading Billy. In fact, it's quite opposite. We all have a tendency to take ourselves too seriously, and I LOVE poking some fun at my "teammate".

I say "teammate" because a relationship is supposed to be a partnership. The word EQUALITY comes to mind. However, anyone who has ever been in a long term relationship, knows that the whole 50%-50% thing, is complete and utter bullshit! There are few times when it's actually 50%-50%. It's more like 80%-20% on either side of the fence, and flip flops back and forth, throughout the course of the relationship. That's reality, my friends.

Billy is great at putting little Pumpkie to sleep. That frees up evening time for me to get some alone time, blog, market, or simply enjoy having my friend, the remote, in my hand. Just the other night I was enjoying some down time. I went to the bathroom, did my business, and went for the toilet paper. That's when I realized that we were running out.

I searched for another roll, thinking I had a secret stash somewhere. No such luck (isn't that always the case?). I weighed the option of running to the store, but I was too tired to even attempt to go anywhere..... Ok, fine. I was being lazy! I looked at the roll and thought it out. There was almost 1/2 of a "double" roll left. Surely, we couldn't go through THAT much toilet paper in the morning, could we? Nah, it wasn't possible. I went to bed, assured, we were safe.

I woke at 6:30 in the morning to the first toilet flush. I shot straight up in bed! How did he manage to get out of bed without waking me? Shoot. I didn't get to tell him to ration. It's really quiet in there, what is he doing? Shouldn't he be getting in the shower? Maybe he's checking himself out in the mirror.

And then I heard the toilet flush AGAIN! Oh no....no, no, no, no. Then the shower starts. I make a bee-line to the bathroom, since I now have to pee really badly. I look, and I almost cry. The toilet paper roll is empty! For the love of God!!! You have got to be kidding me? What man goes through the rest of the toilet paper, in a house full of girls?????

I have to pee, very, very badly, but I head to the kitchen to try and find a scrap of paper. We are out of paper towels, napkins, even tissue. Holy Mary, Mother of God....what am I going to do? I have nothing left in the house to wipe with. That's when I spotted the coffee pot, and I realized I still had coffee filters left. It'll have to do.....I grabbed my coffee filters and ran to the bathroom.

There's a little bit more to the story, but I'll spare you the specifics. In wondering why he used all of the toilet paper, I realized that we both could have used Pumpkie's baby wipes. My "teammate" left me hanging that morning. I improvised. We learned a little from it. We had a good laugh at each other and I, being the "better half", ran to the store to restock our paper goods.

Yes, I have to be the person to think of all of those little details. But he has other things he is responsible for. We are finding our balance, non of which is 50%-50%, but it works for us. However, if he pulls that stunt again, I will have a little fun of my own. Like hiding all of the toilet paper under the bed, late at night, so when he gets up in the morning, he'll have to figure it out. Or maybe I'll plastic wrap the toilet seat?? Hmmmm, decisions, decisions....but all in good fun!

The Battle of the Bedroom

There's a battle going on in our bedrooms across the world. Sometimes, I have no idea how it even starts or happens, but it's there. Looming, waiting for the moment of attack...

It comes in the form of clothing thrown all over the place. Damp towels that are left on our side of the bed for us to discover when we get into bed. You do laundry only to find that somehow, the pair of socks that you had on at some point (because they are in the dirty hamper) has lost it's "pair" status and is now a "single" item. Where did that sock go? Did the troll living in the dryer eat it? Or is it somewhere lurking in our bedroom waiting for us to find it months later? Well, folks, if you live in my house, I have gotten smarter than that sock! I have learned that sock likes to hide from me. Under my bed, between the sheets, at the foot of the bed between the sheets, under the hamper (WTH? How did it end up there?) or behind my dresser!

You ask "How does a sock end up behind a dresser? I hear you! I shall answer that, because I have figured it out. Yep! Men like to throw stuff. They like wadding up paper and throwing it into the wastebasket. They also like throwing their dirty clothes across the room into the hamper (even if the lid is closed - forcing US to pick up the dirty stuff). And sometimes the sock makes it's way behind the dresser or under a hamper. If you're real lucky, like me, then you can come home to find this waiting for you......

What is that, you ask? Well, I came home from working one day to find this fine piece of underwear hanging from the wall decoration one day! Now, I've seen everything my friends, but this one took me back a step or two, trying to figure out how in the world that happened? Notice the hamper below it and the dresser next to the hamper. I'm a lucky girl and I know it!!

The other thing that can happen is that you try and fall asleep, but the other person who occupies your bed, has a different sleeping habit than you. It can sometimes feel like you are at a Theme Park on a ride. There's so much tossing and turning going on that you might just go flying out of bed if they hit that one spot to catapult you across the room. Sound familiar?

There's the snorer, the sleepwalker, the sleep talker and the all too familiar cover stealer. I live with a sleep talker, cover stealing, theme park riding guy! It's a wonder I get any sleep at all. The cover stealing is classic. It starts with the tossing and turning. I've lived through the 94' Northridge Earthquake, so I sometimes have flashbacks and am jolted awake most nights when the tossing gets bad. Once I calm my inner child down, I finally get back to sleep...to then be jolted awake again by the talking, which can turn into shouting! Holy Lord, where did I put that sock? I must find that sock so I can stuff it in his mouth to get some freakin' sleep!

Then the the covers slowly start making their way away from my side of the bed and make a nice wrap on his side of the bed. Ever been next to a cover stealer? They can wrap themselves up like a burrito while you are freezing your buns off, waking you once again....for the love of God LET ME GET SOME SLEEP!! Then you pull, yank and finally release some blankets to be greeted with "What are you doing?" from your spouse. "What am I doing? I'm trying to sleep here buddy! Gimme some blankets!"

I have friends that always ask me how the baby is sleeping.

"Oh, she's sleeping just fine! In fact, she's the only one sleeping through the night!"

However, the battle of the sheets was taken to a whole new level today. As I pulled the damp towel off my side of the bed (Certainly, I can't be alone here people - please tell me there are more of you out there!!) and started making the bed, I remembered the time when I lived alone and would peacefully sleep, get up and and pull over the blankets that were barely messed up. Presto, my bed was made! It was that easy. Now, I have to remake the bed from scratch everyday, like there was some serious action going on...and I assure you, there was not!

I am making the bed when I get to his side and re-fit the sheets back over the corner of the mattress. This is what I found....

Are you kidding me? Who does that? A ripped sheet? I simply made the bed, shaking my head and laughing a little bit to myself. When he came home, I showed him his "battle scar" and assured him that I would poke some fun at his expense for my next blog post!

How do you win the bedroom battle? I haven't a clue. I accept my partner for who he is and curse his name when I make the bed, pick up the clothes and hang up the damp towel. Most guys aren't very interested in chores (boring), participating in the child rearing (You want me to do what?) or cooking a good meal (Hey, can you show me how to steam the veggies again?). They have better things to do, like work, play and sleep. My guy is no exception. But that's ok. I can be patient (when it doesn't involve crying, screaming children). I have a secret that I know will start happening in a few years. MEN-opause!

Confession...I lost my mind!

I turned 40 last month. Prior to turning 40, I was having anxiety about it for over a year. In fact, the night before I turned the BIG 4-0, I was curled up in the fetal position, in the corner trying to figure out how fast the last 20 years had gone by. I was not looking forward to it at all! That bitch was knocking at my door and I was not going to answer. Not for her and certainly not for anyone else!

We planned to go to Vegas to celebrate. Billy was making it a big deal and was excited. I wanted to go hide in the closet and drink a gallon of wine and cry myself to sleep. Getting over that hump was difficult. It's easier now, but at the time, it was THE most difficult thing that I could experience...until today.

Today, I lost my mind. Actually, the truth is, I lost it yesterday and today was an extension. I have 3 children and I've had each one of them a decade apart, more or less. At 19, when I had my first, I was young and dumb but thought I knew everything. Not unlike my children now. Insert sarcastic grin here. I also worked when she was a baby. My husband and I worked opposite shifts. He worked during the day and I worked at night. If there was an overlap, my sisters watched her for a few hours. There was always a relief button in the form of a job to escape to.

I had my second daughter when I was 26 and again, I worked. I started my career as a personal trainer not long after having her. As I built up my clientele, she would be with a sitter for half a day or a few hours and my husband and I would switch care both in the early morning and at night. I was more patient but still had a lot to learn.  And also had an escape to turn to.

My third daughter was born 9 months ago. They say you get more patient and understanding as you age. Granted, the understanding part is true, but I laugh at the patient part! Holy mother....the whining! There is one noise that can grate on my nerves faster than nails on a chalkboard and it's a child that is whining. I'm not sure if this is a test or not, but if it is, I failed over the weekend!

The baby is teething and any parent who has gone through the teething stage knows exactly how this goes down. Your little bundle of joy turns into a clingy, whinny, unhappy, devil child that wants to suck the life right out of you so they can feel better! After 4 hours yesterday of non stop crying and whining, Billy comes back from playing basketball. I did some serious self-talking before he came back, channeling my inner Pollyanna, so that I could "request" the same amount of time for myself in the afternoon. Here's a sample of that pep talk:

"When Billy comes through the door, just breath and nicely ask him to care for the kids while you take some much needed time to work quietly at the computer. Surely he will appreciate that request and provide you with the much needed time to work uninterrupted."

Then my inner Diva took over. She's a pushy broad and burst through my thoughts, over powering my inner Pollyanna. Here's a sample of her pep talk:

"Listen bitch, who the f*&$ takes 4 hours to play some basketball while you're up here nesting the coop? You best check his ass when he comes through that door and get you some time to yourself before you become a lush!"

As I wrestled with the inner Diva and just manhandled the inner Pollyanna, it came out something like this:

Billy: "Do you want to take some time for yourself?" (It was actually good that he noticed the Medusa-like tentacles coming out of my head and the the smoke venting from my nostrils - the man is observant, if anything!)

Me: "Ya think? Yes, I'm going to take 4 hours just like you did, ok?"

Billy: "What's wrong with you?" (OK, maybe not so observant after all)

Me: "Pumpkie has been crying non stop since you walked out the door and I can't take it anymore. I know you don't understand why the whining bothers me so much but it's the worse sound in the world to me and it's been going on for 4 hours!" (Hows that for clear, concise communication?)

Billy: "Well, go take some time."

Me: "I was thinking you could take the little darlings out of here so I can get some work done." (No laptop for me - that requires money and until there are more ad clicks on my page, I cannot get one, unless I start working the pole!)

Billy: "I'm not going anywhere. I just played ball for 4 hours. I'm too tired. I'll take them in the room." (Not helpful, dude, not helpful - I need peace and quiet so I can think)

Me: "Fine, I'll go then."

I know, not very classy at all. As I ran, not walked to the car, I sped off in a fury. I just needed to escape. I'm pretty sure you all have felt that way at one time or another. I got 1/2 mile down the road and parked. Cleared my head and that's when it hit me.

Son of a bitch!! I forgot about the load of laundry that had finished drying and I had to go back to get it out. I did the walk of shame back up to the house with laundry basket in hand. Not unlike the sitcoms or movies when someone says something to get the last word, slams the door and then walks back in because they forgot their keys. Yeah....Except this wasn't funny to me.

Billy actually watched the kids while I did my taxes. After hour 3, Pumpkie was still fussy, so I turned to him and asked, "how's that crying working out for you?" Insert evil grin....

I'm highly motivated and want to accomplish a lot. It takes time to do that. I suppose that my frustration lies in not being able to get the necessary work done that I need to get done in a day. And I also wrestle with working for myself, being a Mom, partner and blogger. I have goals just like everyone else. Life gets in the way sometimes. I forget that I have to ride the wave, make an effort, and roll with the punches. Each person in my family deserves a piece of me. However, I know the importance of taking care of me in order to take care of them. So, I don't feel bad at all that I have a hidden stash of wine!! That's taking care of me, right? #iamnotalushreally

Creating a blog post - you have no idea!

My day always starts with the intention of first marketing, then creating. I am getting my feet wet with blogging and I am a personal trainer. I wake up with fresh ideas and can't wait to write something new each day. Here's a typical day:

Wake up and sleep walk to the coffee pot. Grab a mug, my creamer and blindly pour my coffee into the mug, hoping not to scald the shit out of myself.

Grab the mug and trip over a baby toy while on my way over to the computer, thus scalding the shit out of my hand and spilling a few ounces on the carpet, which now needs to be cleaned, and quietly mouthing a few expletives as to not wake the sleeping bundle of joy.

Grab a towel and wet it, cleaning up the coffee spill.

Walk over to put the towel in the laundry hamper and realize I should get a load of laundry started before little Pumpkie rises.

Collect a load of dirty laundry and grab a few quarters and head downstairs to start a load.

Come back upstairs, walk through the door and see the mess of toys on the floor. Clean those up and sit down to start my marketing.

A few taps on the keyboard and I hear the little bundle waking up. Shit! Hurry and type faster.

Log onto Facebook and Twitter with the intention of creating a new blog page and adding new followers, I get sidetracked by who started her period this morning, who is dreading work today, someone is wishing everyone a good day, my IM goes off and it's someone wanting to say hi.

My phone started buzzing. Gotta play my words with friends and keep that updated. Baby is starting to get louder, for the love of God!

Send links out to the social media sites.....Wait? What is that? Serious growling....my tummy is telling me I need to eat. I'm reminded of the coffee, so I grab my mug for a drink. It's cold. Damn!

Head to the microwave to reheat the coffee and notice the dishes in the sink. UGH! I just did them all last night and there's already a sink full?!

Pumpkie is now whining and wants to get out of bed. I pick her up and realize, seeing more dirty clothes that I have to put the clothes in the dryer now. Sigh!

Put Pumpkie in her highchair and feed her. Or attempt to anyway. She wants to play with her food before eventually letting me actually feed her, so I head over to the computer again and get moving to a new site to feed my URL.

My tummy reminds me I need to feed myself so I grab the last yogurt and a banana and quickly inhale it, reminding myself to head to the market later on. We need food.

Pumpkie wants to play, so I set her down by her toys. She isn't having it. I try and make my escape after distracting her with her favorite toy, but she sees me moving slowly out of the corner of her little baby eye, and starts whaling.

I totally forgot about the laundry and pick her up along with more quarters and head downstairs to change it around.

I come back up and put her at my feet while I try and type out a new post.

I type out a sentence. I get another one out. She starts crying. OK fine. I give up.

Play with the baby. Play with the baby. Read baby a book. Turn on Seasame Street hoping it will distract her for a few minutes.

Go back to blog. Think, think, think.

Reread what I wrote. Scratch it. Start over.

Tap the keyboard. Hmmm? Oh! I got it. I start many sentences, which eventually turn into a paragraph.

Look over at Pumpkie, who has a nice banana lather going on top of her head, and decide it's time to jump in the shower.

It's 9am. Dear, sweet baby, this is going to be a long day! Pray for a few minutes to the sleeping baby God's that she takes a morning nap.

No such luck and she's dialed into the fussy channel!

Oh crap! The laundry. Collect the baby and head downstairs to get the laundry with baby in tow.

Distract baby with clean clothes and a laundry basket. Brilliant!

I type out a new sentence with her by my side, but have to give up because she wants to climb in the basket and has turned it over. Not so brilliant......

On and on it goes all day. I decide to book shelf it unless she takes a nap by herself, you know the kind where she's not physically attached to me? I try and lay her down, she wakes up immediately. I. Give. Up!!

Billy comes home and I launch the little darling at him before he can grab the remote control! Take that, kind sir!!

I shit you not, it's not more than 5 minutes later and he's lost interest in playing with her. Are you kidding me? I swear one of these days I'm going to drop her off in his classroom and have him try and get his work done with her attached to his hip!

Dinner needs to be cooked and I've had no time to hit the market. I order a pizza and call it a night.

By 7pm I've lost my mind and resemble some creature from beyond. My eyes get wide, I get snappy and I think my hair might be on the wild side (one would guess, between bananas, graham crackers and pulling it out all day long!).

I border on getting emotional, which always clears a room. He volunteers to lay down with her and put her to sleep. My plan is working! Whoo-hoo!!

And a few hours later, my blog is ready for all of you to read. So please, for the love of God, understand the work involved in this crap and freakin' comment!! Thank you and you're welcome!!





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Remote Control Wars.....

Remote control wars. It can be a blood bath of sorts.You come home from a long day, ready to grab that little piece of heaven, when suddenly, WHAM, you get knocked on your ass as your partner launches for the remote control and grabs it from your fingertips! You, in your dazed wonder, try and regain focus as the the stars diminish in front of your eyes, clench your fists in fury and migrate to the other room, too pissed off to say anything.

When I was single, this wasn’t an issue. I didn't have to share, bargain, plead, whine or beg to watch my shows. I had the remote to myself. I basked in the glow of owning that little piece of heaven. No watching separate programs in different rooms. No channel surfing for hours, still not finding that one thing your partner can't seem to make up his/her mind to watch. Just you and the remote......a love story!

After many nights (while in a relationship) watching absolutely nothing but the channel surfing channel, I decided that wasn't going to be my life ever again! Nope. I would figure out a way around it. When I started dating I protected my new found love of remote and didn't want to share it with the wrong person. If I dated someone and brought him back to my place and he grabbed the remote, he was out that door so fast, his heads would spin. Yep, you read that right, his heads would spin!!

That’s why after a few of these moments, dreading the company of these guys, I decided not to share my remote with anyone that didn’t like what I liked. Yep! I wasn’t going to give in either. It made it tough to move beyond a certain point, but remember, I had my trusted list I was wielding above my head to guide me. I was certain I could find a good match for me, but I never again wanted to be bored out of my mind, night after night.

 I have my limits. We all do. How does this dilemma get corrected? Well, you could spike his drink with some sleeping pills so that he knocks off earlier in the evening......say by the time Grey's Anatomy comes on. Or you could tell him that you require at least 10% of the DVR space for your shows and you move them to the top of the priority list without his knowledge. That way, after you knock him out with sleeping pills, you can assume the position with remote control in YOUR hand. You could get another TV and watch all of your shows, but then you're totally screwed if there is more than one show taping. You'll be stuck watching the golf channel....zzzzzzz!

There is no easy solution. You can totally cave in, read a book and pray that he falls asleep, quietly slipping the remote control out of his hand before he wakes up and starts channel surfing again. Groggy channels surfing is no bueno, by the way! You could delete some of his favorite shows "by accident" and take the passive aggressive approach to the remote control war going on in your home.

I took a different approach when I realized this was an area that I was unwilling to cave in. I love football. As a matter of fact, I love most sports. I’d be out with someone and I’d go down my list. “Do you like watching football?” He shakes his head no, while taking a drink. “No? Really? All right, it was good to meet you. Take care!” Next guy. “Do you watch Grey’s Anatomy?” His response, “What’s Grey’s Anatomy?” Deadpan stare…”I have to go. Nice meeting you.” I. Was. Not. Going. To. Budge.

I suppose that's one benefit from break ups. You learn what you can live with and what you can't. I learned that my issue wasn't about controlling the situation, it was about finding compatibility because I'm not good at compromising with things that are important to me. It's much easier for me to be with someone that likes the things I like doing already, then being with someone and pretending I like certain things I really have no interest in. And believe me, I have no interest in becoming a homicidal maniac at 10pm because I can't get my frappin's show on!

I finally found the person I was willing to share my remote with. Thank you sweet baby Jesus! I was starting to wonder if he even existed. Billy, if you happen to read this post (he's only read 2 of 13 - shaking my head!), pay attention because this is where I give you some props dude! Sports Center, check. Football on Sunday, check. The Voice, check. Movies we can agree on, you betcha! It's never a problem with this guy. Ladies, he isn't perfect but he asks me what I want to watch and offers me the remote when he finds himself channel surfing too long. Now, if only I could get him to remember where he last left the remote.......