What Happens to Mean Girls?

For those of you who happened to see "Mean Girls" or read "Queen Bees or Wanna Bees" you know exactly who I am talking about, we all had them in school, the pretty popular girl who could charm the teachers and the boys, and make everyone else's life miserable if they set their sites on you. Before we go any further, let me tell you, I was neither a queen bee or a wanna bee. I spent most of my adolescence praying for graduation. Anywho, back to this drove of girls who ran the school and no doubt went on to college or skipped it in lieu of giving birth to a nine pound "preemie" with the quarter back, and settling into a life full of adorable kids and late nights of their husband "working late". What do these women do when their husbands have given them beautiful homes, they have given up their careers to raise the children that they look at with disdain and groan about having to watch their soccer, football, volleyball games etc... they go on to make all the women who live on the fringe's life miserable, because you see, that "Queen Bee" is lurking in the recesses of their subconscious waiting to jump out and make someone else feel less important, thus feeding into their already fragile ego. Stay away from these girls, they will invariably self destruct by 40, their husbands moving onto newer models, their kids trying desperately to get away from them, and they will be left with their wine, cigarettes and posse of equally used up followers. The only problem is, they no doubt have had at least one daughter who is now in school with your child and is perpetuating the vicious cycle. My advice to that child, make friends with her and save yourself and her some serious heartache.

What's a Mom to do?

So it's 2:30 in the morning, pouring rain and my beloved husband has woken me up to tell me the one year old is crying because we are out of milk. I am wondering why she is crying for milk since she has been sleeping through the night for quite sometime without eating, so this is curious to me. I ask him to check her pants because I have a 7 yr old moaning next to me (she is a human garbage can that has cramps because all the crap she ingested the day before is causing constipation), so he is dealing with crying while I am handling moaning - so far we are the picture of teamwork. Now it all starts to go awry - he informs me that baby's pants are clean and he has put her to bed with a bottle of water. She is still screaming, and I mean she is MAD. The 7 yr old is moaning, and I can't do anything for her, short of taking her in for am emergency colonoscopy - which I am not dressed for. Mr. Wonderful volunteers to go get the milk , all the while using expletives that rhyme with mother truck, and ambling around our room in the dark, going near everything but the dresser. After listening to this for a few minutes too long, I opt to throw the 7 yr old on the toilet, tell him to handle that, and head out to the local convenience store in my snowman pj's. I come back armed with lunchables, milk and some diet coke (provisions for the morning) and am told by the husband that the 7 yr old was grunting so hard she threw up all over the bathroom. Finally he gets the older one in bed after she is cleaned up and the baby is still screaming even after she got a top off of fresh milk, and I ask him again, is the baby wearing clean pants. Again, I am told he already checked them and she is clean. Finally I ask him to bring her in the bed with us, and low and behold, she isn't in the bed 2 minutes and I can smell the poopiness coming off of her. The moral of the story is: If I would have dealt with the poop storm, I could have avoided the rain storm. Live and learn!