His, Hers and Mine

For the past 9 months I've been the mother of four children. No one is more shocked by this than me. I've never had a problem with children I just didn't really want to reproduce. As a young teenager who would babysit I decided that child rearing just wasn't my thing. Of course, when you start off watching a newborn with colic you don't have a good first impression. I had to call my mother and she came over, reached in the closet, got out the vaccuum cleaner and lulled this screaming pooping machine to sleep. I would have never been able to do that.
My next experience was with some neighbors whose 3 year old smeared dog poop on the walls as a way to express his unhappiness. So basically, I was done before I was even of true child bearing age.

Fast forward 25 years and I am raising, shaping and completely smitten with four kids in my care. For privacy reasons I can't go into too much detail only to say one is my stepson (His), two are foster children (Hers) and one is straight from the womb, cut from the same stubborn headstrong cloth (Mine).

So from here on out on this blog that is how I will refer to the four kids: His, Hers and Mine.

His: tons of fun, easy going and heading into high school this year - Yikes!
Hers: making the transition into our home pretty well and teaching me on a daily basis what a blessed childhood I had.
Mine: Lord Help me! She makes me appreciate my own parents more and more. I hope those Pre-K teachers know what they are getting into. I bet I get a call from school before the first 9 weeks is complete. Just saying!

Cheese.. The Spray Kind

My daughter is funny. She's a mini version of me in so many ways it is scary. She is constantly catching me off guard with her quick wit and sarcastic comebacks.. and she's four.
I'd say I'm pretty relaxed with my child rearing techniques. I grew up in a cold pizza for breakfast family and I don't see a problem with it. As long as it is actually food she is putting into her mouth as we run out the door most mornings I feel like I am a success and breakfast was served.
So I don't know why earlier this week I was so bothered by her very simple request.
My darling daughter wanted cheese and crackers for the car ride to daycare. I'm thinking "great, that's easy". I dug into the cheese drawer in the fridge and pulled out a few slices of Kraft, folded them in fourths and then grabbed a sleeve of Saltines. It was about the time I was stuffing this all into a Ziploc bag that my daughter started to have a meltdown. She didn't want THAT CHEESE. She wanted THE SPRAY KIND. Seriously? I don't buy spray cheese. In fact, it's a joke between my husband and myself. My husband's family thinks spray cheese is an hor d'ourve during the holidays. It makes me laugh every year.
I'm not truly against spray cheese, I just don't want to admit that I would feed it to my child for breakfast.

They Call Me Jenny

For most women having your children call you by your first name on a regular basis would be an insult. Most women are quick to correct the child with "I am your Mommy". I'm not one of those women.

I would say my family situation is unusual, but unfortunately with the way society is today my family make up is probably more on the side of normal. I have a stepson who has called me Jenny since the day I met him. He was 16 months old. From day one I've insisted he call me Jenny. I didn't want to be Mom, Mommy, or Momma. Not because I didn't instantly love him, but because I watched my husband's heart break every time this little child called another man "Daddy". Every boyfriend, one night stand, old friend, or husband was "Daddy (insert name here)" to my stepson. It was done on the insistance of his biological mother. It was done on purpose to hurt my husband. And it worked.

Over the years I've added a biological child and now two foster children to my family. Each one of them call me Jenny to my face. It doesn't phase me. It's not what they call me face to face that counts.. it's what they call me when I'm not around.

When my stepson talks about "his Mom".. he's talking about me. In fact, many of his friends don't know that I'm not his biological mom. I didn't force that situation or even ask for it. It has grown into a love that is just as strong as if I birthed him. My brain knows I didn't, but my heart has no clue.

Tiger Woods - still on top of his game

You think Tiger Woods is standing on the bottom rung of the ladder, think again. Yes, he has fallen in the ranks of public perception, but this man still controls the PGA, his company, and the media. Easy for me to say since I'm one of the people being controlled by a man I've never met. Tiger Woods has dominated websites and airwaves for months now without even being seen in public since Thanksgiving. His image is trashed, there is no mistaking that. He will never be the squeaky clean poster boy for pro athletes, but he still controls the game of golf.

Just this week Getty got the first pics of Tiger. Pictures that tabloids have gladly attached a $1,000,000 price tag. It is no coincidence the PGA and Getty reportedly inked a multi-year partnership less than a month ago. Tiger needs the PGA, and the PGA needs Tiger. Tiger is in control. The PGA needs Tiger to rebound, they need the viewers to not give up on his success.

So Tiger and his PGA puppets have organized a "press conference".. an event with less than a dozen people invited, no questions for the golfer and one camera which will provide a pool feed to thousands of TV stations around the world.

Our station is going to carry it live and so are all the cable networks and the three national networks. It's a press conference that will be streamed by more websites than you can even count.

Once again, Tiger is in control. He's still on the top of this little game he calls life.