He Blogs, She Blogs: Fix-It Edition

Petra a.k.a. The Wise (Young) Mommy: The Female

This week, I e-mailed Captain Dumbass and told him that my brain was fried and I was leaving it up to him to choose this week's topic. Luckily, Supreme Leader stepped up to the plate and made a superb selection.

When good electronics go bad.

In other words, when the gadgets, gizmos and electronic toys in the house break, how do we deal with it? Me? This is how I deal with it:

"HONEY, THE TV/DVD PLAYER/Wii/COMPUTER IS BROKEN!!!!!!!!"

And then he comes running, plays around with it for a few minutes, fiddles with things and gets frustrated. Meanwhile I get the instruction manual and start suggesting that he take a look at the troubleshooting section as he waves me off, swearing and wielding a screwdriver.

You don't mess with a guy with a screwdriver.

So after a lot more swearing, throwing of various household items and possibly some blood, usually he agrees to try the stuff that I have read about in the manual, which of course, usually works.

You're welcome.

What would men do without us?

In the off chance that the item is broken for good and there is no resuscitating it, then comes the big decision of replacing it. This is where the major challenge comes in. I belong to the camp of "let's go to the store, check out what there is and buy what seems reasonable and suits our needs." He is more of the "painstakingly research every brand and model from every retailer that's out there and after weeks of deliberating and nickle and diming, choose an item that I probably would have chosen in the first place." But you know, we saved $4.99 by waiting until it went on sale, so it was all worth it. Riiiiiiiiight...

I guess I should be grateful that my husband isn't one of those men who gets all glassy eyed and mentally retarded upon entering a Best Buy, and I never have to worry about him surprising me by coming home with an XBox 360 impulse buy or by collecting mp3 players and various other gadgets to the detriment of our savings account. And really, he is rather handy with a screwdriver, so who am I to complain?

But I really think he should just read the manual and save us all the hassle. Just sayin.'



Chad a.k.a "Glassy-eyed Captain Dumbass": the male


Oh, Best Buy... how I love thee. What? So, when electronics go bad? Can't imagine why Supreme Leader would choose that topic when I asked her what we should write about this week. Or how she came up with it so quickly. I am the poster child of patience. Really. Except when things don't work.

I belong to the camp of "shit should just work." Period. I lose it when things start acting up. Like cross-eyed, spitting demon fire lose it. First step when something starts acting wonky? Swear at it profusely. Demean in in every possible way. I don't care if it's an inanimate object, I'm goin to town on it's ass, and it knows it. As long as the kids aren't around. Second step? As fun as smacking it would be, if it's electronics it all depends on it's dollar value and general importance. As much as I would have liked to whack my computer at the beginning of the month when it started working in super slo-mo, we can't afford a new one. And really, it's old. Computer wise, really old so I kinda feel sorry for it. Because of that I chose to aim my fury at my internet provider, 'cause come on, they're always guilty. Oh, and Steve Jobs for charging so damn much for his computers. Yes, Mac's are totally worth it, but come on Apple, your market share would be a lot larger if you could drop your prices a tad.

Where was I? Right. Violence. Camera? I can pretend to throw it when it's not working right, but then I wouldn't have a camera. DVR? If I didn't have to get under the tv to unplug that damn thing I'd be skipping it down the front street like a flat rock on water. Cell phone? Effing contract. Luckily things don't usually get this far. Supreme Leader usually steps in well before this, probably because she doesn't want to listen to me bitch, and fixes whatever's wrong. Whether by reading the manual or taking the time to look something up on the internet or making a phone call. And since we're rolling into our 13th year of marriage she doesn't even bother to talk to me about it, just tells me to get out of the way. Ah, love.

I came home with an Xbox once.

And finally, if you came here from my Bait & Switch post over on my blog:



*try to ignore the girlie shopping bag*

He Blogs, She Blogs: For The Love Of Balls...

Petra a.k.a. The Wise (Young) Mommy: The Female

No, not that kind of balls.

Balls as in footballs, baseballs, soccer balls, etc. - today we are talking about, you guessed it--SPORTS.

The Captain and I were both kind of surprised that nobody had suggested this topic, nor had either one of us thought of it before now. But since it is often a subject of debate and argument among men and women everywhere, I thought it was something we should "tackle." (Heh, get it? Tackle?)

So I would like to start off by saying I am very passionate about sports.

Hahahaha, that was funny. I almost typed that with a straight face too. No, I am not all that passionate about sports, but I am passionate about this particular person who happens to play sports:
Stupid super models, they take all the good ones...

Funnily enough, even though I am not in love with sports, and 10 years ago I could not have named you ONE pro sports player other than maybe Michael Jordan or Drew Bledsoe, now I pretty much know every player of the Red Sox, The Patriots and The Celtics AND their positions. I can watch any sporting event and know EXACTLY what is going on at every moment, and even throw in witty commentary and well-timed remarks about the players if it happens to be baseball, basketball or football. Yes, people, I have become one of those women, that special sect of wives, girlfriends, and/or significant others that have become known as SPORTS WIDOWS.

When I began dating my husband, it became obvious that I was going to have to make a decision. I could choose to ignore sports and be completely uninvolved in them, thus creating a giant chasm between my (now) husband and I and pretty much consign myself to spending countless evenings on my own while he watched sports OR, I could learn the games, watch them with him, and make it something that we could do together. Being the understanding and flexible woman that I am, I chose Option B. So now I spend many nights watching baseball, basketball and/or football (sometimes more than one in one night, depending on the time of year) and sometimes I even enjoy it.

Notice I say sometimes. Because honestly, there are many times when I am so SICK of watching sports that I end up watching television in the other room or negotiate with my husband so that we can watch something else. I have also taken to reading while he watches the game, which is quite a nice compromise because then we are still spending time together (something we don't get much of lately) and can chat here and there, but we are both doing what we love. It works.

Now if only Tom Brady would be healthy this season, it would be a complete win/win.


Chad a.k.a Captain Dumbass: the male

Sports? I can't believe we haven't done this one yet. Especially after all the 'what do you want to write about? I don't know, what do you want to write about?' emails Petra and I shoot back and forth. Men, women, sports... that's proven recipe for angst.

Luckily for my wife, while I love sports, I don't need to watch it all the time. In fact, while I'll watch the playoffs when my team is still in it, I can happily go the whole season without watching a regular season game. The only sport I used to watch religiously was golf, and that was only when I was playing. Pre-kids. These days, the only must see sports for me are the Olympics. I freakin love the Olympics. I don't even care what I'm watching. Unless it's speed walking. Sorry if you're a fan, I just can't get into that one.

In fact, my wife is really lucky, because I don't follow football, baseball or basketball. Football? Meh. It's boring. Sure, every once in awhile you'll get some running, but most of the time they're barely moving 5-10 yards either way. *Yawn* And what the hell is with their schedule? They play like five games and their season is over. Baseball? I'd like to try watching a real game one day, but on tv? Snore. Basketball is exciting. If it's a close game and you're watching the last 5 minutes of the last quarter. Otherwise all the fouls just make me shake my head. Man it up! This is my problem with all big three sports, they play like little girls, or in the case of football, they hardly play. Now hockey... well that's different. You don't see NHL players taking 6 weeks off because they broke a pinky nail. These guys play with broken bones. They'll take stitches on the bench so they don't miss a shift. Granted, MLB plays more games, but they don't move for most of the game, so it doesn't count.

Um? Ok, not sure what direction I was starting out on with that last paragraph, but I didn't end up where ever I was planning to go. I've been writing and filling in job applications at the same time and I may have gotten off track. Except... heh heh, if I don't find a job soon it will be September and the kids will be back in school and I won't have anything to do around the house except watch sports. Ta-dah! If you're lazy enough you can tie anything together. Or a man. We can make excuses for anything.

Now, did I stir up any angry comments?

He Blogs, She Blogs: Honey, I'm Goin' Out!

Petra a.k.a. The Wise (Young) Mommy: The Female

This week, the Captain and I were sure to get all our ducks in a row so there were no more shenanigans like last week, and last night at 11 p.m. had finally chosen a topic. A little late, but better late than never, right? Well, we'll see.

Today we are talking about getting out with the girls/guys. You know, that thing that I used to do before I got married and had kids and all my friends got married and had kids, making it almost impossible to all get a baby sitter for the same night or get our husbands to all agree to stay home with the children.

Or for my husband, it's what he gets to do once every week or two, when he just calls and says "Hey, I'm hanging out with (insert name(s) here). See you later."

Yeah, there seems to be a slight double standard in this particular situation, at least in my household. My husband sees his buddies all the time, whether it is just going for a beer or catching a game at the bar or going fishing. Me, I depend on a play date with some friends and their kids about once or twice a month (and we try not to break out the cocktails on those occasions so they are pretty mild mannered) and maybe once every two to three months, the stars line up just right so that me and two-five of my girlfriends can all break out of the house for an evening. But be aware, that evening is usually spent talking about our children and husbands, is frequently interrupted with phone calls from our children and husbands because they can't find the hot dogs or the little one won't go to bed without saying goodnight to Mommy. Or, in the case of the last time I went out, my daughter called to say she wanted to come out on a date with mommy and her friends and wanted nothing to do with staying home with daddy. I'll tell you, it's not easy sitting in a restaurant on the phone with your daughter who is crying for you to come home. I came *this* close to grabbing my purse and heading home to my poor little baby. But then I realized that she was going to be fine, and I needed a night out.

But you know what time I get home on my "girls nights out?" Yeah, usually around 10 or 11 p.m. Because all us moms are so EXHAUSTED from working and taking care of the kids all day that we have two and a half glasses of pinot grigio and are falling asleep in our drinks. What time does hubby come home from his "guys nights out?" 1 or 2 AM, sometimes 3 and then there was that one time he fell asleep on his buddy's couch and didn't come home at all!!!!!!!!!! (Let's just say that I was very pregnant, very hormonal and VERY pissed that night).

So girls/guys nights out don't seem to be in the same realm for women and men. Or maybe my situation is unique and there are lots of other moms out there who go out all the time with their sistas. But something tells me that I may not be the only one who doesn't get out much.

Am I right ladies?

P.S. I would like to add here that my husband has never stayed out again all night since that one fateful night four years ago, and he is always urging me to go out with my friends, it's just that it's not as easy for moms as it is for dads. But thank you honey, for always trying to get me out of the house!


Chad a.k.a. Captain Dumbass: The Male

Boys night out? Hmm... I've got a hazy recollection of something like that once. Hanging out with males of my own age, not kindergartners and pre-schoolers. Drinking adult drinks and not juice boxes. Talking like men about cars/women/sports/video games/electronics/wives/girlfriends/action films/stuff and not what Scooby snacks really taste like or if Batman... er, bad example.

Sadly, it's been a long time since I've been out with the boys. Or my wife has been out with the girls. Our circle of friends has withered and died. Is this just us or does this happen to other people as well? My closest friends are now bloggers, and while that is definitely not a bad thing in any way, none of those people can drive me home if I've had too much or let me sleep on their couch. Well, maybe sleep on their couch, but that would involve long trips beforehand.

Nowadays our "night out" is usually an afternoon out when one of us takes the boys and gives the other some mental rehabilitation time. It's not perfect, but it works for us. Then again, now that I think about it after having wandered off and read five other blogs while trying to think of something else to write and then noticing what time it is and wondering what my wife has been doing all evening I just realized that blogging has become my "night out." Every night. So, regardless of whether you pee standing up or not, you're now one of my boys. *High five*

He Blogs/She Blogs: Stolen Cars, Alien Hordes & Quality Time

Chad a.k.a Captain Dumbass, the male

Achoo! Whew, gettin' a little dusty in here, sorry about that. What? Yes, rumours about my death have been greatly exaggerated. Give me an iPod, free wi-fi and a roll of duct tape and I'll kick Richard Dean Anderson's ASS! No, I still don't have a computer, but I didn't want to be accused of copping out again, so here I am. Besides, this weeks topic is close to my heart. Or carpal tunnel enlarged wrists and thumbs. Video games! Time well wasted.

The brilliance of Japanese video game marketing is, in my opinion, only slightly behind early Christian's decision to promote their new religion to woman and slaves first in the Roman Empire and George Lucas producing the last three episodes of Star Wars before the first three. I was 11 years old in 1981 when Nintendo first hit North America and 13 when an Atari console made its way into my home. Hooked. From begging my parents for new games to trying to convince my new bride that an Xbox would help us save money by keeping me at home and finally, to giving in to my own childrens demands for the latest Lego game for the Wii, it's been a long ride. The first hit wasn't free, but I took it anyway, and I'm still using. Brilliance.

Now, not only can I play video games whenever I want and afford to buy them myself, but I can use the kids as an excuse. "But it will make them happy." "It will help with their motor skills." And they beg me to play with them! Sure it's not all fun and games, I learned the hard way that Grand Theft Auto is not the best game to play with your sponge-like young children. Or that no matter how many times you tell them that when Daddy plays Halo it's our little secret they'll still rat you out. Then there's the down times when controllers are taken away for bad behavior (kids) and everyone suffers. You learn your lessons and move on.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go give my youngest some lessons in problem solving, religious studies and early 20th century history. Or Lego Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Heh heh heh.

Petra aka The Wise Young Mommy: The Female

Yes, I know, I am late.

I was up really late last night trying to defeat flood on Halo 3...

Just kidding. I don't even know what that means. I just had another rough night last night with my 3-year-old who has decided to boycott sleeping, so I totally forgot to hunker down and write this post. So yes, again, I suck. Sorry. So video games, yeah...

I had an Atari and I loved Pong. I also got hooked on Mario Bros on the original Nintendo. And now we have a Wii and I use it for the Wii Fit games. But that is about as far as my love for video games goes. I think it's pretty much a big waste of time if it's done in excess, especially for those grown men who spend all their free time in front of the computer screen or XBox, whilst ignoring their families. A hobby is a hobby, and to each their own, but when your fellow players in World of Warcraft see you more than your wife and kids, I think there is a problem.

Unfortunately, my 9-year-old would surgically attach his Nintendo DS to his right hand and the controller for his Playstation to his left hand if it was allowed, and I have to admit that I let him play them too much, but it's just too hard to fight his nature. He is not a sports kind of kid, he is not an outdoorsy type of kid. He loves video games. And although I try my damndest to keep him from doing it all day every day, I am also not going to make him miserable by taking them away and making him do things he doesn't like to do. No, I will not allow him to hole himself up in his room with his video games, but if he disappears for a couple hours, that's OK. And then I will urge him to go outside or we will go find something fun to do for the rest of the day. I think that's a fair compromise, don't you think?

I am lucky because my husband has never been a big gamer, so it has not been an issue between us. He will play the Wii or Playstation with my son here and there and I love that, because they are doing something fun together. I'm not unreasonable.

But, I swear, if my husband ever turns down sex because he is close to levelling up in World of Warcraft, all bets are off.

Technical Difficulties...

This week's He Blogs, She Blogs is being canceled due to technical difficulties. Apparently, Captain Dumbass' computer is on the fritz and rather than have him labor over a post on his ipod, we decided to take a week off and come back fresh next week with something enlightening and hilarious (you know, we like to change things up from time to time).

So come back next week, when we will tackle the age-old video game debate, and whether ruling at World of Warcraft should be considered a resume-worthy special skill or a pathetic obsession.

So hold tight and practice your bitch-slapping skills in Grand Theft Auto while you wait.

He Blogs, She Blogs: Thank God for The GPS

Petra a.k.a. The Wise (Young) Mommy: The Female

Hey everyone! Sorry about last week, I know some of you (ahem, STEENKY BEE) were a little lost without He Blogs, She Blogs, but I was just coming back from my trip to San Diego and was even more discombobulated than usual (I know, you didn't think it was possible, did you?). But now we are back on schedule so none of you will be forced to watch Real Housewives of New Jersey or something equally horrible to pass the time.

Today, The Captain and I are going to discuss DRIVING. Yes, this is a good one, because I am sure all of us have been witness to some pretty interesting car ride arguments with our parents growing up, and of course we all said "Oh, I am NEVER going to be like THAT when I grow up and get married." But you did, didn't you? Oh, you didn't? OK, well, then I did, and I ain't ashamed to tell you about it. I'm just honest like that--all for you people. Man, I am not going to have ANY secrets left at this rate.

I remember growing up that my parents often had "heated discussions" (a.k.a. shout matches) while I sat in the backseat on our way to some family event. Back then there was no GPS and you had to rely on good ole directions scribbled down by hand on a scrap of paper. It was inevitable that you were going to get lost approximately 68% of the time, and then my dad's driving would become 10 times worse, my mother's voice would become 20 times louder and I would find myself holding my ears from the screams of "turn here, turn HERE!!"

Thankfully my dad wasn't one of those guys that wouldn't stop for directions, but we usually drove around for at least 45 minutes before he resorted to that. So by the time we got to our destination, usually at least an hour late, my parents were irritated and not speaking to each other and I had to pee reeeeaaaal bad.

So when I got married, I always told myself I would not be a passenger seat driver, that I would keep my cool while traveling with my husband (who is always the one to drive when we go out together) and that we wouldn't succumb to the whole cliche concept.

But what I didn't count on was that my husband likes to drive like he is trying to win The Amazing Race and that he has road rage with a capital "R." I would sit in the passenger seat, gripping the arm rest for dear life, sighing and huffing and puffing every time he stopped short and scowling every time he swore at someone in front of him or beeped his horn. Yes, I had turned into "that" wife. And I didn't like it one bit.

So I tried talking to him rationally. "Yelling and swearing is not going to make the people go any faster or drive any better," I would tell him calmly. "Just take a deep breath." He would try, but as soon as some person going 20 miles an hour in a 45 mph zone would get in front of us, I could see the smoke coming out of his ears. But he's getting better. And as soon as the kids came along, I played the safety card when it came to his "need for speed." This seems to have tamed his driving quite a bit, and I try to be more patient when it comes to his impatience with other drivers.

All I have to say is thank God for the GPS; however, don't put the two of us in a car together in downtown Boston, where EVERY TIME we have tried to get around there, the GPS has either taken us the wrong way or stopped working, because then the gloves are off and we are usually screaming at each other by the time we get to our destination. There is just something about getting lost that makes the person that is not driving feel like they know EXACTLY what to do and where to go and that it would never have happened if they had been driving. Needless to say, the driver doesn't appreciate it and having someone scream "turn here!" at the top of their lungs right as you are passing an exit is a tad frustrating. OK, it makes you want to punch them in the face.

But I am proud to say my husband and I have never punched each other in the face while driving, and we try very hard to make our trips nice and peaceful. But sometimes, just sometimes, those old habits (you know, the ones that die hard?) come back and the car becomes a war zone.

So I just remind myself that I love my husband.

And how much worse it would be without GPS...


Chad a.k.a. Captain Dumbass: The Male

Before we go anywhere, I should warn you that I asked my wife to proof this after she got home from work. Her first comment was, "this is pretty slapdash." It ended with, "this isn't about anything, it's just a meandering anecdote." Um... she may have a point.

Driving, it was my choice for a topic today. About five minutes after emailing Petra with it this morning she responded back that she was done. As usual, even though it was my idea, here I sit staring glassy eyed at the screen waiting for something shiny to distract me. Earlier tonight, when I first sat down to write this I did the same thing but then decided to distract you from my inability to slap together a cohesive post with a picture. I hadn't tried Microsoft's new search engine, Bing, and I'd heard that, image and video wise, it's pretty good.* So I bring up the page and search 'crazy driver.' This is what I get for the first photo.



Huh? This is supposedly a cat, but I'm thinking it looks a lot more like the alien from Lelo & Stitch. So then I wander off to do the dishes before my wife gets home and gives me the pimp hand and while I'm 'soaking in it (thanks Madge!),' I remember a time way back before we got married when we were driving across the country.

We'd spent the night in Winnipeg and set out the next morning for... Minneapolis? We went to the Mall of America, so wherever that is. Ok, we were driving across two countries, whatever. Anyway, it's morning rush hour in a strange city and we get totally lost. This is 1994 so there is no GPS or Google maps on the iPhone or Blackberry, just inexplicably contradictory road signs. Plus, we have mountains and an ocean where we live. If I don't know where I am here I just look for a landmark. Giant expanse of water? That would be West. Winnipeg? It's flat. Flat like it was levelled by glaciers 10,000 years ago. Ah, the animosity and finger pointing. Fifteen years later and the phrase, "at least I didn't get us lost in Winnipeg" still gets a rise out of whomever it's used on.**

But now it's 2009 and we all have access to crazy Star Trek gadgets that connect to satellites in geosynchronous orbits above us and can tell us kind of exactly where we are. Last week my oldest had a field trip and family members were invited. Our 'local' zoo is way to hell and gone from where we live so the night before I check Google maps to figure out where we're going. I saw that it was actually on the same route we take to go up and visit my family so I just make note of the cross street and go to bed happy. You know those roads that have an intersection at a little bend in the road and they turn into different roads? Didn't see that on Google. Remember me saying something about landmarks earlier on? Ya, that doesn't work out so well when you're surrounded by trees. We're in the middle of grassy fields and cottonwoods and all I can think of is M. Knight Shyamalan's last movie The Happening and that the trees are going to kill us.

With visions of our little six year old's tearful face when he got off the bus expecting to see his parents and didn't, I'm given the green light to drive. I pull the e-brake and throw the Caravan into a tire smoking 180 degree turn. We race through those country roads like we're in a rally car, getting air time over railroad crossings and sliding through corners like a Tokyo street racer. We found that damned zoo, and my little boys eyes stayed dry.

Was this post about driving or getting lost?

*Bing is actually pretty good for searching images. Much prettier than Google.
**I'm not pointing fingers, but I wasn't the one with the map in their hand, I was driving.

He Blogs, She Blogs: Don't Make Me Turn This Car Around!

Chad a.k.a Captain Dumbass: The Male

LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!!!

Ok, are you listening to me now? Are you? I don't ca- *inner ABS kicks in* It doesn't matter what your brother said... This week on HBSB, parenting styles and discipline. Oh ya. You just rolled your eyes. I know, it's a headache for all of us. We all come into it with different ideas of how to handle it, and it's never the same as our partners.

In my house, we fall into the stereotypical roles of good cop/bad cop. I've got the vocal range, the heavy step and the glare of doom. I'm the Dirty Harry of Bad Cops. Old and grizzled. Full of righteous thunder and damnation.



My wife? Good cop. Pushes me out of the interrogation room after I've swept the incriminating photos and stale coffee cups off the desk and kicked my chair over. "Look, I don't know how long I can control my partner, if you just come clean maybe we can make a deal..." Her patience amazes me, and also settles me down once I've blown my top. She gets down to their level and figures out what's going on which usually gives me time to catch a breath and realize I'm being an idiot. But you know what? If the good cop/bad cop routine didn't work it wouldn't still be around, would it?

And the secret to a good GCBC routine is changing it up every once in awhile so it doesn't go stale and your ___ year old is reciting your lines back to you before you get to them. Every once in awhile I'm the good cop. I'm the one trying to reason with everybody and using my inside voice. When my wife goes off, the kids they know they are in it deep. The woman is like a Dementor, she even scares the shit out of me. Any incident that involves Dad intervening is a lesson learned or at least not soon forgotten. And you cannot imagine how long I just spent trying to find a decent image of a Dementor. Why aren't there more images of them? Then I was fishing around trying to think of a 'good' cop for an image but got stuck on Danny Glover and sure my wife isn't a large African-American man but you try finding a tv/film cop duo starring a female South East Asian, and again, where the hell are all the images of Sgt. Roger Murtaugh?

So now it's only a few minutes until our publishing time and I'm spiralling out of control so you should probably just skip on ahead to Petra's piece since she can actually write and string two thoughts together and I don't even know how to close this off. Seriously. Go. I'm putting a bullet in this one.

Petra a.k.a. The Wise (Young) Mommy: The Female

So, this week for He Blogs, She Blogs, we are discussing parenting styles, discipline and giving into your kids.

You know the deal--good guy/bad guy, the softie versus the dictator, the one that turns into a puddle of mush when the little one gives the puppy dog eyes, as opposed to the one that has nerves of steel when it comes to the kids. There is no shortage of marital discord when it comes to raising children; I don't know many couples who completely agree with how to parent their children. Once again, Mars and Venus strikes again--men and women just look at things so differently.

For instance, my husband thinks that louder is better. Don't get me wrong, I have my moments of losing my cool and having a little tantrum when my kids are acting like the devil's spawn. But he goes from 0 to 60 in .2 seconds and it never serves to do anything but create more chaos in whatever situation he is trying to diffuse. It also took me a long time to get him out of the mind set that "touchy feely" parenting isn't all that bad, and it is actually good to sit down with children and talk to them when they are upset or acting out.

But perhaps, maybe, just maybe I am sometimes a little too emotional. Like when I let the kids drive me to tears, thus losing all control of the situation. And maybe sometimes I let things go that I shouldn't, wanting to pick my battles, you know? But seriously, a mom gets tired of saying the SAME DAMN THINGS all day long to her children, so sometimes it comes time to turn the other cheek. (No, not the "kiss my ass" cheek, the other one.)

Now, when my daughter came into this world, there came a whole new issue. All of a sudden, when hubby looked into her big, blue eyes and her halo of golden blonde hair, he couldn't say no. A Daddy's Girl had been born and he became the one of us to ALWAYS give in to what she wanted, especially since she was such a sweet infant and toddler up to the age of 3. Mommy became the big bad villain, so you can imagine the fanfare when Daddy came home from work in those days. Now that she is going through the torrid, TERRIBLE, no good, very bad 3's, it's a little easier for him to say no to her, I think.

But me, my nerves are so shot by the end of the day that when she asks 5,245 times for a cookie in the same high pitched, whiny voice while following me around with seemingly no plans of stopping, I have been known in a moment of weakness to give in and give her the damn cookie. Cause, really, my sanity is worth it to me. But you see, when I have my housekeeper, personal assistant and part-time mother's helper, this will never happen and I will be a rock. Riiiggghhtt...

All in all, I think we have gotten fairly good at working together and being on the same page, but I remember the days when my stepson acting up and the two of us wanting to handle it totally different ways turned into a huge blowout between the two of us, in the end neither one of us even remember what he had done to spark it in the first place. The good thing about these moments now is that the two of us have been sufficiently beaten into submission by our children so our number one priority is always to nip the bad behavior in the bud and we know we have to gang up on them to accomplish that. There's two of us, and two of them, so we are almost on a level playing field.

If we have another kid, we are in serious trouble.