Tag Archives: frustration

Pet Peeve Vent

20 Jul

I’m not going to pretend I don’t have a lot of pet peeves. There are quite a few things that irk me. One of my favorite annoyances triggers my brain to automatically say to itself, “No. Lie to me…” when someone says, “To tell you the truth,” or “To be honest with you.” Why do you need to prepare me that you’re going to tell me the truth? Do you usually lie about things?

I could go on and on and sound way more persnickety and like I never say or do anything wrong but I don’t want to reveal all my peeves, imperfections and snarkiness in one post. The main peeve of this post involves a letter of the alphabet. It’s an innocent letter actually. I’m fairly certain that it never intended to inflame my nerves whenever I see it (mis)used in this certain way. It’s just a letter after all. A simple letter. The last letter. The letter Z.

Again, Z by itself is just peachy. It’s when people start adding it to words relating to educational facilities for children that makes me want to copy-edit their signs with a red pen.

I will never be able to comfortably choose a school that uses the Z instead of an S for one of the kids. They make their living/business off teaching young minds ABCs and how to spell. Also, I often wonder if they would hire a teacher who wrote a word on the application with a Z instead of an S? “My skillz include…” Why wouldn’t they hire that person? They set the standard with the giant sign out in front of the building.

I must add that I really don’t mind the use of Z instead of S in casual conversations/situations. In fact, I once called myself Nikki Sweetz when writing a sex column in college. (One of my cooler accomplishments in life.) This Z peeve solely surrounds educational facilities. You know, schoolz and stuff.

Serving Time

18 Nov

Before it was even noon today, we’d already put Nate in time out five times for hitting or pushing Nia.  It’s been so ridiculous and so frustrating and frankly, I’m really sad and exhausted over it all.  He even pushed a little girl (like 15 months or so) at the mall’s soft play area yesterday!  As soon as we saw it we jumped up, grabbed him, told him “NO SIR! No pushing!” and didn’t let him play anymore.  Before we left, he went over to her, hugged her and said “Orry” but none of that really matters to me if he keeps pushing and hitting.

I’ve read that all of this is a “normal/typical” toddler stage and I’ve read time out is the way to go – I just hope and pray it works.  It’s funny because some of the advice on the online websites I’ve visited say things like, “children under 2 should not watch tv.”  Well, that’s great.  How do I undo that?  Besides, Nia watched plenty of tv before she was 2 and she never hit/pushed/bit anyone plus, she’s super smart so I can’t say that tv is to blame for his actions. It’s not like he’s watching Ultimate Cage Fighting (well at least not more than 30 minutes a day – I’m totally kidding if you don’t know that).  I mean, his cartoons are Curious George and Go Diego Go – all those are teaching him to do is speak like a monkey, make messes and want to wear a “Rescue Pack”.  (He really does all of those things.)

All of this has me feeling a little timid about taking him back to the Y this week.  I know I can’t live my life like that but I just don’t want to chance us getting the boot.  I even thought about telling the ladies to get me as soon as he does anything that way it will be even more of a punishment and he doesn’t get written up.  I can’t believe how stressed out all of this is making me.  Hopefully, he will grow out of it (like all the websites say he will).  In the meantime though, I have a feeling he’s going to be spending a lot of time behind bars.

Experiencing Technical Difficulties

18 Aug

We are yet again having issues with our internet connection.  We pay 60 bucks a month for Comcast “High Speed” blah, blah blah and are usually internet-less once a month.  They told me the earliest they could get a technician out to us was NEXT Saturday!  We’ll see.  Andrew called them several times and gave them his best disgruntled customer routine and they now tell us someone will be visiting tomorrow.  I’m not holding my breath but I’m really hoping.

The only way I can type this now is because we’re using Andrew’s cell phone wireless thingee-ma-jig. Hopefully, we’ll be back online soon.
 

And I Thought the Tree Frogs Were Bad

10 Aug

In Savannah, we had tree frogs. For the most part, they would just hang out on our sliding glass door and croak very loudly (had to turn the television up) and poop very excessively (it was EVERYWHERE).  Occasionally, one would get in our house.  Sometimes, we would find it dead the next day (yum) but other times we would actually witness the little guy jumping inside and then frantically leaping around trying to figure out where the heck it was and why a terrifying scream was filling its ears.  Of course, that terrifying scream was coming from a terrified me – as the frog freaked out trying to get to safety, I freaked out trying to find something to catch it.  Don’t worry – I never killed one – on purpose (it was an accident, I swear).  Andrew and I actually came up with an easy (and frog-friendly) way of returning them to the outdoors.  We took two cups (that I threw away immediately after the capture and release) and chased the frog until we were able to scoop him up.

As I was going through that whole frog thing, I remember feeling that I thought it was so horrible that I had to deal with it.  I would hate having to put the dog outside because I was scared I would let a frog in – or worse, it would jump on my head or something.  Now, I wish all I had to deal with were the frogs.  Now, I have to deal with these:

 

Earwigs.  Or as I call them under my breath as I hunt them down every day – “muthafockas.”

They seem to come out of nowhere.  Just in the few minutes I’ve been writing this I’ve killed 5 of them and they were 5 that had not visibly been in the room with me when I began this blog.  Now, I keep stopping every sentence or so to see if I spot any little moving black lines on the carpet. It has been my mission (and tragedy) for the past few weeks.

This blog will not even begin to describe to you just how awful this is for me.  When we first moved in, I saw a few of them and immediately called the exterminator.  (For those of you who don’t know – I am a total bug-o-phobe.)  I believed the exterminator did the trick.  We hadn’t seen an earwig from December through June.  He came back to spray in July but they obviously didn’t get the hint.  I had him come back to spray last week and still the nasty little mo-fos live.  I kill anywhere from 10 to 20 around the house a DAY.  Nia and Nate even find them.  Nia will yell, “Momma, I found an earwig!” and I can always tell when Nate finds one because he gets really quiet (which is rare) and stares at the floor.

I have researched these things online and it has not given me any peace of mind.  I am now totally grossed out by one article that said earwigs are nocturnal and like to crawl under the covers.  Whether it’s true or not – I’m ruined!  Also, just knowing that there’s a “myth” out there that earwigs get their name because they burrow themselves into people’s ears – AGH!  And then, I just read some lady’s blog about her earwig infestation and she said they were on her toilet seats and in their beds and that 30 to 40 of them would come crawling out of the wall at one time!  One of the more disturbing of our earwig tales involves Andrew having to very quickly (and quietly) scoop one out of the bathtub while the kids were in there.  (Do you have the willies yet?)  It’s not even like we have a messy house or anything!  I vacuum every other day (Joey is shedding) and sweep around the table after every meal (Nate is a major crumb-causer).  I bet our house was built on an earwig colony or something – like “Poltergeist” only earwig style.

I’m just so exhausted with this whole thing.  It’s really wearing on me.  What makes it even harder is that I feel like I’m the only one who really cares that our house is being invaded.  Andrew will kill them if he sees them but he doesn’t really think it’s a big deal. I actually prayed today and asked to please make the earwigs go away so I wouldn’t have to kill them anymore.  I’m just so tired of it all.  I just want to be able to relax in my own home and not have to worry about whether something’s going to crawl on me or my kids while they sleep.

I plan to call my exterminator again tomorrow because then it will have been a full week since his last spray – I just get concerned about all that spraying around the kids.  I mean, it doesn’t seem to have any effect on the “muthafocken” earwigs so it should be ok – but then again…

Maybe a plea to them would help – “Please earwigs – go back outside so I don’t have to kill you anymore.  I’m sorry if our house smashed your home – we have a nice backyard for you to enjoy though.  We’re not any fun in here anyway – I don’t have a lot of plants for you to eat and I’m sure you find no entertainment in “So You Think You Can Dance” so please just find your way outside and have a long, joyous life anywhere but within our house.   Thanks so much for cooperating. Sincerely, The one who keeps squashing you with anything she can grab.”

It’s worth a shot – at this point I’ll try just about anything.

 

Weighing on My Mind

6 Aug

I really didn’t want to blog about this but I’m now thinking that if I put it out there it might help me stay on track.  I’ve become inspired by my friend Roxann who is now successfully on her way to a healthier her.  Each week, she shares how her weight loss is going (you are doing so awesome Roxann!) and since I’m struggling with mine, I thought that if I wrote about my frustrations it would kind of kick my butt in gear to try and do better.

Three weeks ago, I was at my lowest weight since having either of the kids.  The scale read 135.6. It was an awesome feeling to step on that thing and have it glow those numbers at me.  Now though, the numbers are growing instead of shrinking and I’m getting a little discouraged.  Today, the scale told me I was 138.6.  That means I gained 3 pounds in 3 weeks!  With all the company we had last month I wasn’t watching what I was eating like I should have been or exercising like I had been and now it’s hard to get back in line.  I still weigh less than I did in April (144) but after seeing the smaller numbers it’s just a bummer.

I am using this blog to be the kickoff to my new attempt at a smaller me.  I don’t have much to loose – I just wanted to get below 130.  125 is ideal but I will be happy with 130 (so I tell myself now).  From this blog forward, I will follow my diet and continue to work hard at the gym.  I have a goal to lose a pound a week before we hit the beach in September – hopefully, this confession will help me stick to it!

Controversial Subject (But I Have to Vent)

18 Jun

Today, Nia and I went to a shoe store and had a really nice time picking out some flip-flops for her to wear to the pool. She picked out a pair that she called “Belle” (as in Beauty and the Beast) shoes.  They actually have a tiny little heel! After we found those gems for only 5 bucks (and a few others for her, Nate and myself), we got in line.  Here’s where the controversy begins.

I got in line behind a man who was trying to return some shoes.  As if returning merchandise isn’t enough of a pain, the man did not speak English and the two teenage girls behind the counter did not speak Spanish.  Also, this shoe store’s return policy is pretty strict (I think effed up) so that did not make matters any better.

Cashier – “Sir, you want to return these?”
The man replies with a nod and says a few words in Spanish.  I actually recognized the word “si” but couldn’t catch the others.

Cashier – “Do you have your receipt?”  (pointing to a piece of paper he has in his hand)
He hands it to her and then she asks him for his Georgia Driver’s License (again using a hand gesture trying to demonstrate ID card).
He gives a card from his wallet.
She looks blankly at it and then asks him if he has anything that shows his Georgia address on it.
He replies in Spanish.  She has no idea.
She asks him if he lives in Winder.  He nods.  She asks him where – he says nothing.
She then consults with the other teen behind the counter who shrugs her shoulders and tells her she should call the boss.

The line grew behind me.  The tension grew in the air. His wife and child sat in their truck right outside the window watching.

She tells her boss it’s an International Driver’s Permit and that it does not have a local address on it and that it also expired in January of this year. She hangs up and then has to try to explain to him that because he does not have a valid Georgia Driver’s License or current International Permit he cannot return the shoes because their return policy requires a valid ID.

After she shook her head a few times and said sorry, he storms off then squeals his tires as he angrily drives away.

Ok, so here’s my beef.  First, the store’s return policy is ridiculous!  (By the way this is a chain shoe store, not just a local one.) As printed on my receipt (in English only), the store wants the receipt, positive ID and phone number.  I know, I know, they’ll say it’s to protect you, the costumer, from someone else getting your money.  HOWEVER, they don’t ask for that much when you buy the freakin’ shoes so why do they need that much to get YOUR own money back.  Dude had his receipt and the shoes were still in the boxes – I mean come on!  It was his money!

My other issue – I thought it was just so wrong that those girls were the ones who felt like the bad guys because they didn’t speak Spanish.  I could tell they were frustrated and felt uneasy dealing with the situation all by themselves.  I had 3 years of Spanish classes in high school and I still don’t feel comfortable or knowledgeable speaking the language so I could only imagine what those girls felt like.

The last thing – dude drove away on his “EXPIRED” International Driver’s Permit!!!!

The whole thing just made me so disturbed on both sides.  Part of me felt bad for the guy because all he wanted to do was return some shoes but the other part of me was wondering why he didn’t have a valid ID and if he should even be behind the wheel!

I just know I’m going to make sure I meet the requirements before I even enter that store with a return.  If I don’t I’ll just have to give the shoes away or something.
 

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