Ramblings from a Frazzled Mind

Random Tidbits and Ramblings

Learn How to Put Your Foot Down

I hate parents who cannot put their foot down when it comes to their children. They often wonder why their child is spoiled, pushy, whiny, and an all around little brat. The answer is simple: It’s because you let them act like that! The child knows if they whine, cry, and scream long enough you, as a parent, will give in to their demands sooner than later!

I don’t normally go around telling people how to parent, but… when you blast it on Facebook, I’m going to weigh in about it.

One mama made a complaint about her kids always draining her phone’s battery playing various games. She hands over the phone when her children throw a fit because she hasn’t handed over the phone… she gets  upset because she uses her phone to connect to Facebook and other various social media sites but can’t when her children are playing on it or have wasted the battery from playing on it.

My response to her was:  I’d refuse them access to your phone. It’s your phone, you’re the mother, put your foot down. If they throw a fit about it, take away other things like their toys or TV for a week.

I allow my son to play on the laptop once or twice a week, as long as he doesn’t beg me to play, he behaves at home and school, and behaves nicely. If he begs, whines, throws a fit, etc. he knows he has no access to the laptop. Easy as that. I am the parent, I set the rules. Not Boy Child. Not Girl Child. (No matter how much they think they are the bosses.) It’s a privilege to play games on Disney Jr. not a right. And they know it.

Setting up simple rules and guidelines about cell phone usage, or anything for that matter, is up to the parents. It’s also up to the parents to enforce those rules and guidelines. Daily. Not when it suits the parents. Not when it suits the child. But always!

Luckily, the other parents who commented on the post seemed to agree with me. Most seemed to follow the same line of thinking as I do when it comes to this: You are the parent. You need to put you foot down. YOU need to parent. 

While my children are still too young to use cellphones, or to even borrow my POS flip phone, there are excellent articles on the website about how to go about it if your child is old enough. Such as this one, or this one, and finally this one.


Adventure at the Checkout Register

I’ve been battling a nasty head cold since Monday night and finally broke down and went to the store for some meds. My total came to something and 45 cents. So… I dug out 45 cents, two nickles, a dime, and a quarter.

Cashier looks at me like I was the world’s dumbest person and said, “You need 10 more cents.” Now, I suck at math and being sick doesn’t help my case, but I counted it carefully before giving it to her. I told her it was the correct change and she started arguing with me about it. Over a damn dime. I started digging through my purse, but all I had left was a crap load of pennies… all at bottom. She rolled her eyes at me and gave me an even bigger attitude… so I told her to get a manager to count it for her. I normally don’t complain to managers because I get how horrible it can be to be a cashier, but giving me an attitude over a dime when I clearly gave her proper change? Meh, I’m sick. I act weird when sick.

She called a manager, over the dime, and when the manager looked at the total and the change in the cashier’s hand, he told the cashier, who had the world’s most smugest look on her face, “She gave you the right change… give her the receipt and let this poor woman get back into bed.”

And this woman works with money on a daily basis? I’d worry about her drawer if I was her manager. I know working retail is not the greatest job in the world and some customers are dicks, but seriously, to argue with a customer just seems wrong.

Creepy Weirdos!

I have decided guys are just plain weird. Maybe not all guys, but surely the ones I have encountered as of lately. As I have mentioned before, I joined a dating site that I still haven’t deactivated yet. I’m not sure why, but I think it’s because some of the giggles I give when reading the horribly bad messages I receive.

I wrote up a fairly decent summary about myself under my profile. Silly me thought guys would actually read it before sending a message to show their interest. Silly me, indeed. My very first sentence in my profile read, “I am a single mother of two children.” However, after talking with a certain guy for a few minutes, he asked me the question, “So are you a virgin?

…Yes, I am the new Virgin Mary, twice over.

I look nothing like her!

Good grief. It’s right there… and I even mentioned having to leave soon to pick up my child from school. Clearly any form of relationship – friendship or otherwise – would not work well with this man if he couldn’t even read the simple words I wrote to him.

I came across another guy shortly after who sounded fairly decent from the sound of his profile. Plus he used basic grammar! However, he quickly tried to start some cyber shit. People still have cyber sex these days? Blegh, no thank you. No matter how much I tried to ignore it, he just kept going and going and going, trying to get me to reply back in like. Nope, sorry, I don’t have sex with a computer monitor. In the end, I just started ignoring him. I still get messages from him that reads *kisses you passionately* and it takes all my efforts not to reply back with *kicks you in the groin.*

I’m looking into finding the deactivate button… I think I’m done. I changed my mind, I don’t need a man in my life right now!

Awesome Teachers

Teachers are a very important part of any child’s education. I have been lucky so far that Boy Child’s past two teachers have been amazing and that he likes them.

I was also pretty lucky to have decent teachers throughout my school years. There were a few who stood out as having favorites among the students -which I was never one of. For example, one of my science teachers in middle school only cared about the popular students, which I was not one of, and only really bothered remembering their name. I sat in the back of the classroom, more often then not sleeping, and he never once noticed me, called on me, or approached me. He probably only gave me a passing grade because he couldn’t even picture me in his head to remember that I was horrible in science.

However, my favorite teacher was my high school math teacher, Mr. S. I always hated math, was horrible at it, but Mr. S made it fun to learn. For everyone. His teaching style was so different than any other teacher I had had at that point. If only one student didn’t understand the subject he was teaching, he would review it over and over, trying to explain it in different ways, until that one student’s brain finally clicked over.

While other teachers droned on in a monotone, Mr. S was singing songs about the subject. While other teachers sat behind desks while teaching, Mr. S was climbing on desks and chairs, twisting and turning while writing on the board. He played games like Jeopardy to review the material before tests. He used different colored markers on the dry erase board. He dressed up as various characters, trying to make learning interesting. He worked one on one with students during study halls, homeroom, or after school.

And he did this in multiple classes, multiple times of the day. By the end of the first quarter, my math grade improved a lot. I was remembering things, I was learning, and I was proud of myself.

I wish I could have cloned him and used his clones as teachers for all my other classes. School would have been awesome then, but even though I dreaded other classes, I always looked forward to his.

I’m hoping he’s still teaching when my children enter high school. They would adore him.

I wasn’t aware that the cashier was a dog.

Old Memories

Old photos taken at Grandma’s house:

Photos from Boy Child’s first time at a beach:


Red Zone Meltdowns

What do you do when your child is in full meltdown mode? I sensed one approaching with Girl Child while on the wait to school to pick up Boy Child. She has been fussy for the passed two days, suffering from a cold. However, she was entering the red zone of tantrum fest. I was faced with waiting with her inside Boy Child’s school for 10 minutes, screaming and crying, or pulling out Boy Child 10 minutes early so we could face the full meltdown in the comfort of our living room.

I opted for pulling Boy Child out. It was only 10 minutes early, so I felt like he wasn’t going to miss anything crucial. Plus, I have never pulled him out of school early before, so it was like a special treat for him.

Girl Child’s full meltdown hit right in the middle of the street we were trying to cross. Not very good when there are cars speeding at you or waiting for you. I had to carry her the rest of the way. Not very fun when she is 30+ pounds and lashing around, trying to knock you out.

I situated Boy Child on the laptop, playing Disney Junior games while I let Girl Child scream it out. It only took 10 extra minutes of screaming, but she is done now… as long as I don’t look at her. She’s mad at me, you see, because I dragged her away from the school and won’t let her go to the store for candy like I planned to earlier.

I’m hoping things are better tomorrow.

Loki and Thor

Yay! Tom Hiddleston!

Remarkable Strangers

“Have you ever had a random encounter or fleeting moment with a stranger that stuck with you?”

In short answer, yes. However, that wouldn’t be very interesting if I only answered yes, so I will elaborate.

In the year 2008, I fell deep into my depression. I ended up spending a week in the psych ward of the local hospital. Upon arrival, I was nervous, upset, and shy. I thought my life was going to be over because I had to spend time there rather than at home. I didn’t think anything would come from my stay there and that it was just a waste of time and money.

However, truth be told, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I still had to follow plenty of rules: lights off at 9pm, all meals served a certain time, participate in group meetings, go to art classes, meet with a specialist one on one. But what took me by surprised was the other patients there.

My first night there, I encountered a friend I knew from outside those walls. We weren’t close, but we knew each other and together we embarked on our week long stay together. He made it slightly better because I had someone there who I felt comfortable talking with and during our group meetings we decided to pretend we were the only ones in the room.

However, our little duo quickly became bigger as more patients arrived throughout the week. By the following Monday when I was released, we had a total of four members in our little group that spent time together during our free time playing cards, talking about life, and sharing snacks.

The third member of our group came roughly two days after my arrival. He was as young as me and just as crazy. He told us tales of his adventures on the outside, famous people he met, and was extremely funny, resulting in much giggles between our small trio.

The next day, a young man arrived. He was a veteran from Iraq, but still had a rather decent sense of humor on him. He matched my dark side of humor, therefore he was invited to sit with us. He was the master of card games, jokes, and other various hilarity.

Our group was considered the “in group” of the psych ward. Even though the four of us were considered outsiders while in the “real world.” It was the first time I felt like I belonged with a group of people. The four of us learned to get past our troubles that landed us in the psych ward in the first place.

If it wasn’t for the three others, I’m not sure I would have “healed” as quickly during my time there. They made things a lot more bearable. Sadly, after our time was up there, we lost contact, but I still think about them once in a while. I wish I could remember last names or phone numbers so I could catch up with them, but I don’t. I just hope they are doing as reasonably well as I am these days and will continue to pray for them for years to come.

Let’s Talk About Facebook, Shall We?

Oh for the love of...me

I’ll admit it…I’m a defender of Facebook. I like it. I like seeing pictures of my grandkids and keeping up with what is going on with them. I like keeping up on the lives of my friends and what their grandchildren are doing. I like the positive news items and the helpful way it reaches out to millions of people at a moments notice. I like finding friends from way back when and touching base again…not enough to actually make an effort to get together or anything but I’m nosy…I like knowing what’s going on in the world.

But I’m finding there’s no real “etiquette” when it comes to Facebook. It’s kind of anonymous…but not really. We’re not face to face so you don’t have to see my initial reaction to your post and I have time to think about how I’m going to (or not going to respond). Kind…

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