Jami in 2174 CORRECTION: 2124

So I read somewhere that our generation might be living to 150. Years old, that is. That would put me living in the year 2124. So, looking into my brilliant future, I'll paint you a picture of life in 2124. It's so nice here, what with the global warming, following the same trend of the 150 years before this, has raised the temperatures almost one whole degree Fahrenheit so that's good. The aliens made first contact a few years ago, and have taken several hundred of our top scientists for long term studies on their planet. (on the other planet: "It's great, Your Majesty, a whole planet populated with billions of these, and they're dumber than globnars." "Excellent, pass me more earth scientist, and some gravy"). In the 2050s, robots became advanced enough and inexpensive enough to be common in most businesses and households. The young designers, refusing to listen to our generation, only programmed them with two-digit years, and the 21H bug (twenty-one hundred, duh) caused the non-21H bots to go "bonkers" (that's the technical term) and start killing people, but fortunately only they only slaughtered the last few remaining people screaming about the global warming. Even the robots couldn't stand to hear it anymore. Al Gore, having made billions in the initial scare, had created the only true cyborg and downloaded his, uh, personality into it, and did manage to escape the robot slaughter. He then insisted on being one of the first scientist to go with the aliens. The flying cars still aren't available, because the idea itself is just stupid. You can't make "lanes" in the sky and we all know that people on the ground can't figure out which way to go in a parking lot unless there are giant yellow arrows painted on the street and you think they'll be able to hand travel in a 3-D space, where not only can they go the wrong direction, but they can do it hundreds of feet in the air??? Nope, President Mary Kate Olsen did the country right by outlawing the manufacture of them after the tragic bisection of her sister. Reality TV continued to take turns for the worse until "Who Wants to Eat A Christian?" aired and PETA bombed the network for abusing lions. TV is currently beamed directly into your eye on-demand now, which means that creativity, productivity and crime are all way down. Obesity, accidents, ad revenues and not paying attention at meetings are, of course, way up. A think tank of pregnant women perfected the first working transporter, so "labor" is obsolete. Babies are transported from the womb to nice warm blankets in Mommy's arms, and in some cases, directly to the daycare provider. Yes, it's lovely here in 2124. My nurse-bot downloads my blog from my ear-installed USB port. I've got my latest novel from the room of monkeys with typewriters, and it's almost as good as the last one. I miss the Husband, but Eddie and all 230 of my great-great-great-great-grandkids take turns stopping by. Jami 12, Jami 63 and Jami 109 are my favorites, I have to admit. It's a great life. This was corrected from 2174 to 2124 after I suddenly realized that I am a complete idiot and that 1974 plus 150 is NOT 2174. Did no one else notice the incredibly wrong math???

Jami's Friday Feast

Feast 185 I haven't done the feast in a few weeks, but this week I did mine and EDW's as well, here, because I figure that my made up answers tell you as much about me as her truthful ones would tell you about her. Also, because I'm lazy. Appetizer What does the color dark green make you think of? Oh, so many things. A nice hideaway in a wooded area where you can't really see the sun for all the trees. My senior prom dress. My living room curtains. The Jaguar S-type I lust after - haven't decided if I want it in green or grey. Soup How many cousins do you have? Exactly two. Small family, I guess. Salad On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being highest, how honest are you? 8.5 Main Course Name something that is truly free. Someone going commando? Or did you mean at no cost? Dessert Using the letters in the word SPRING, write a sentence. Seriously, Prince really is not gay.

Jami Uses Dirty Words, But Not Here

Not on my very family-friendly blog. Nope, I used my potty-mouth to sully EDW's blog while she's away. So you can check it out here, but I am warning you, you will be offended if you don't like swearing, so in that case, just skip it and assume I was both funny and clever. As usual.

Jami and the Judges

I love my "judge shows". Judge Judy and the People's Court amuse me daily and keep me informed of important legal principals, such as don't give someone cash without getting a receipt. I know, you'd never have thought of that, would you? My question is, who would agree to go on one of these shows? I mean, let's face it, in every single case, at least one of the parties ends up looking like a jerk or a moron. Sometimes, both sides end up being humiliated. So, if you go on the show, you've got at least a 50-50 chance of making a big ol' fool out of yourself. And yet, there are so many fools, that they had to start making more of these judge shows. I don't watch the others. I can only take so much. What really gets to me are the people who have been so egregiously stupid and feel like someone should give them money for that, such as "Well, yes, I continued to 'lend' thousands of dollars to my known drug addict boyfriend even though he never paid me back a cent of the previously loans, but I absolutely expected to get it all back." Or "I added my new friend that I'd known for all of three days to my cell phone plan, and I can't believe that she'd run the bill up on me and not pay." The defense today to why someone didn't pay their rent "I shouldn't have signed that lease because I couldn't afford it, so I don't think I should have to pay it." Sometimes I take a break from these shows to allow my faith in humanity to rebuild itself. But no matter how long I stay away, when I come back, there's always someone explaining that even though they totalled the car because they were driving drunk, it's really someone else's fault . . . sigh . . .

Jami the Outlaw

Sigh, it's gone, all gone. My perfect driving record down the tubes. This morning, I got my first ever speeding ticket. In my own defense, I really believed that I was going the speed limit, plus, I was in a group of cars all going the same speed, but just because everyone's breaking the law doesn't make it okay. They pulled the whole lot of us over. I am mostly mad at myself. Mad that I didn't know the speed limit on a street I drive all the time. Mad that I was driving too fast. Mad that if I'd been a few cars back or a few cars up, I wouldn't have been one of the ones caught. Mad because we can't afford to spend that much money on something so stupid. And I know why it happened. Karma. I was just making fun of my mother for her speeding tickets and BAM! got one of my own. Had to be a smart-mouth . . . sigh . . . And then I write a snarky blog about bad drivers . . . .smack! Karma says ha! If you feel bad for me and want to send a dollar to help defray the costs, email me and I'll send you my address. Karma works both ways, baby.

Jami Wants to Say . . .

to the drivers I encountered today:

• The stop signs are mandatory, even if you are on your phone.
• If you can't turn around and scream at your kid(s) in the backseat without repeatedly swerving across three lanes, you should pull over and yell there.
• I'm glad you stopped, really, but the sign doesn't say "park", just stop.
• It's nice to let a car in. It's obnoxious to let FIVE cars in, and prevent the car behind you from making the light. Again.
• If the sign says "no turn on red" I'm not going to turn on red - no matter how much you honk.

I don't think these things are too much to ask. We all have our bad moments, but do you have to all have them around me?

Jami Wishes You a Happy Easter

I hope your Easter was blessed and filled with family and joy. I rejoice in knowing that this day means life for all. God bless you, whether you believe in him or not.

Jami Says "They're Out to Get Us"

This is a pretty crappy way to go, in my opinion: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/23747874 Don't say I didn't warn you.

Jami Thinks We Need More Choices and Less Choices

Why are there literally hundreds of laundry soaps for me to choose from, but only three (and soon only two) candidates for the presidency? Does this make sense to anyone? I thought about this at the store the other day when it occurred to me that one of the problems we have is way too many totally trivial choices. I watched an older woman and her adult son try to figure out which garbage bags she needed. She really sort of gave up and chose one almost at random, despite her son wondering if it was the correct size. "I just don't care". I watched a mother with two small kids in her cart reading the labels on laundry detergent. For just one brand, just one brand, mind you, there were more than 30 options. Not including fabric softeners, additives, stain removers. Just laundry soap. Just one brand. How is this necessary? Why are they still introducing more? Improve it, or it leave it. We don't need to hit 40. And then I got into my car to go home and heard a talk show host lamenting the choices left to us in the upcoming election. Hillary? Obama? McCain? And most likely, it'll be just McCain and one other very soon. For my clothes, I can pick from literally hundreds of probably equally good choices, but for the leader of my country, I get this or that??? A friend of mine from another county told me that in his native country, especially in local elections, there can be upwards of 20 candidates for a position. Now that's choice where it should be. I don't have a solution, I'm just suggesting that maybe it matters more who runs my country than whether my hoodies smell "Rain Fresh" or "Spring Breeze".

Jami Manages the Crazy Death Monkeys

It's not as exciting as it sounds, really. What we are talking about here is fantasy hockey. The Husband had had a league for the last several years and at first I had no interest in it. However, I like hockey and I like games. I have no knowledge of players who aren't on the Penguins, however, or at least very little. I suspected this would be my downfall. Last season was my first attempt. I allowed the computer to draft for me, since me trying to make up my own draft when I didn't even really understand most of how the league itself worked seemed like a poor idea. I did choose the name "Crazy Death Monkeys" which was my gaming nickname given to me by a good friend. (Of course, when it was just me, it was just Crazy Death Monkey, but since this is a whole team, one has to pluralize, unless one is a "Blue" or a "Wild" which apparently don't. But I digress). So last year my strategy was:

• Allow the computer to draft for me
• Replace people I didn't like or who weren't doing well or were injured with the player in the same position who had the funniest name.
• Forget to update my team for several days at a time.

This strategy did not work as well as I hoped. I did enjoy one glorious day at the top ranking, and then pretty much rocketed to the cellar like Auntie Em when the wind picks up. The only thing that kept me out of actual last place was the team manager who started the season, then got busy with real life and decided not to play anymore. We defeated him soundly. Go, Monkeys, Go!

This year I employed a new strategy which I choose not to give away here, lest my opponents seize on it. It does not involve any more knowledge, research or paying attention to the games, though I will say that I have managed to keep the team updated almost daily this time. Also, I again let the computer draft for me, since he did such a fine job last year. And the results? As of this writing, CDM lead the league by more than 80 points with less than a month to go. That's right. We've been leading for a few weeks, though I've been loathe to brag, assuming karma would then mortally wound all my players. But I have to crow a little, don't I?

I'm winning. I don't even know who some of the fine young men on my team play for (yes, I know it says it under their names, that doens't mean I remember it once I click away), and yet I am kicking the butts of some serious hockey junkies.

So let me just say:

Crazy Death Monkeys rock the house! We are kickin' butt and cookin' chickens! They said the Hanson Brothers couldn't be beaten (acutally I said that). They said a Monkey can't beat a Unicorn (okay, no one said that). They said someone who doesn't really even "get" some of the rules can never triumph.

They were wrong . . . . The Crazy Death Monkeys are leaving 'em all behind.

Go, Monkeys, Go!!!

(I encourage you to chant this, right now, wherever you are.)

Jami is Annoyed

Arghhhgh! The space bar on the lappie is breaking. It's sorry of quasi-stuck. It works, as long as you really hit it good. Which is really not conducive to fast typing. Yes, I tried cleaning it. Not that I'm a techno-guru, but it looks to me like the little thingy under the space bar has broken on both sides. Grrr. So if I start blogging-like-this, you'll-understand....

Jami Loves the Boy

This morning I had one of those rare moments where I am by myself listening to Eddie interacting with the Husband. It's beyond sweet - the two men I love the most. The Husband was helping Eddie get dressed,which Eddie prefers to do himself, so helping him consists of getting his diaper on and fastening any snaps, zippers, buttons, etc. Oh, and you can chose his onesie. Because onesies are the tighty-whities of the baby world, and he doesn't care about that. But everything else, you'd better not try to even suggest what you think he should wear. You'll be wrong. Even if you're just pointing out that his pants are on backward and that maybe orange pants and bright blue shirt aren't the best match. You're wrong. But I was enjoying listening to them chatting. Eddie eventually realized I wasn't there and came to find me. He appeared in the doorway of my bedroom in his little white socks and onesie. So cute it makes puppies look like trolls. I had actually thought for a bit about trying to describe the sight in detail, but I realized that even if I posted a picture, which I'll have to do once I re-install the software, it's not the same. Before we got Eddie home, a friend of mine mentioned that he and his wife had discussed adopting, but they weren't sure that they would be able to love an adopted child as much as they loved their bio kid (which they couldn't have any more of). [this sounds like I'm changing the subject,but stick with me, I'm not, really.] I didn't understand that at all until we had Eddie. Because I remember, especially the first month that we were home, thinking - knowing- that not only could no one love this child as much as I do, but that I could not possibly have loved him this much if he'd come out of my body. I mean, come on, if he'd been kicking me, grossly distending my abdomen, and finally making his hideous escape through a passage normally not sized for human passage, I'd be a little resentful (I thought). I wouldn't think he'd be as perfect as this baby is. In fact, I sort of thought that while other people probably love their babies, no one in the history of humanity had ever loved anyone as much as I love Eddie. So when I see him in his little white onesie and think how nice the white looks against his lovely tanned skin and how sweet he looks, it's probably colored a little by love. Or when I let him run around nekkid (which I probably do too much) because it's so amazing to see his perfectly portioned, unmarred body, it might just be that I'm influenced by how much I love him. And when I think it might be even cuter when he's dressed in "little man" style complete with tie, maybe my feelings influence it. Or when my heart melts to see him in fuzzy footie pj's, maybe it's just me. And lastly, I think, how can anyone who has felt this not believe in a loving God? You can't tell me that an accident of nature could create this overwhelming love. Hormones and chemicals and biology can't explain the bond and the adoration between us. Unthinking, unfeeling nature simply can not be responsible for this supernatural emotion. And that's all I have to say about that.

Jami, Eddie and the Giant Bunny

As you may have surmised, we attempted a visit to the Easter Bunny. The Bunny was scheduled to be at our regular grocery store, and they hadn't set up much hoopla that might make things more intimidating, just a sign, a large chair and a basket of eggs. I figured that a low-key atmosphere in a familiar place might be a little easier for a first meeting. For two days, I talked it up with Eddie. "We're going to the store and we're going to see the Easter Bunny. He's a nice bunny who is as big as Mommy." We had a brief discussion of who else the Bunny would be as big as, including all of his grandparents, uncles, aunts, and friends. Yes, the Easter Bunny is as big as all of them. Eddie was psyched. He was going to talk to the big Bunny. He was going tell him that his name is Eddie and he's two-and-a-half and he likes trains and he wants candy. We were set. You know, until we actually saw the Easter Bunny. Walking into the store, Eddie kept asking "Where is he? Where is he?" Then we spotted him, and Eddie said "Okay, done!" Lucky for us, we arrived at a slow time, so Eddie had a chance to sort of walk around the Bunny a bit. Grab the proffered jelly bean filled plastic egg and scoot away. Study this massive rabbit for awhile. We got a picture of him standing in front of the Easter Bunny. It'll be in on Tuesday, so we'll see. Really, I can't blame him. I'd have to admit, if I saw a rabbit more than twice my size, I'd be gone so fast I'd probably leave one of those cartoon-smoke outlines of myself behind, no matter who reassured me that he is a nice bunny. It's just not right. Also, can someone explain to me why most Easter Bunnies tend to have a vest and bow tie on? Why those two particular articles of clothing? Why not socks and a scarf? Why not pants and a derby? It's just odd. Who wears a vest and a tie, but no shirt or pants? Just saying.

Jami Waits For a Better Offer

Ah, spam, bane of the inbox. Awhile ago, and I'm too lazy at the moment to find it, I blogged about how I at least want my spam to be creative. Publishers Clearing House has had a few clever ones, including the one that provides you a script to read on camera when you win. So helpful. The Nigerian ones vary greatly, and appreciate the ones who have clearly put more effort into it. Last year I received one that offered me not only my share of$37million, but also the author's youngest brother as a spouse. Now that's quite a deal. The last several Nigerian style ones I've gotten (sometimes called 419 scams) have been for rather paltry amounts. $ 7 million, less your expenses? Bah, barely worth my time. $12 Million split between you and me, with $1 million for your lawyer? I don't think so. $6 million split three ways?? Why don't I just go dig pennies out of the sofa. It seemed the trend had been higher and higher numbers, but maybe they started to think that we can't be that stupid. Maybe a few mill sounds more likely? Also, I get a nice mix of the business variety and religious ones. The aforementioned $7 million one earlier today cleverly combined both, as a mission founded by a person "WITH YOUR SAME SURNAME" (which was never mentioned, interestingly) had somehow stumbled on this money and without the founder, who apparently recently passed away, they needed to get this money out of the country so the government wouldn't take all these important christian funds. I wonder, if these people put half this effort into writing fiction what fabulous stories we'd be treated to. Ah well. I do recommend this site which posts actual email exchanges, including pictures and sometimes phone calls, between the scammers and "scambaiters" who creatively mess with the criminals. Kids, don't try this at home.

Jami Catches Up

Friday was a bad day. Not giant tragic things, just one of those days where stupid things go wrong and everything is frustrating and you just want to scream. Nothing I wanted to share, so I poured all my feelings into a blog post about a friend I had who purposely drifted away. I really loved the way it turned out, just exactly what I wanted to say. Then I posted it and got an error message. Grrrrr!!! So I go to where they save them, since they auto save and it had saved . . . the first 5 words. "Sometimes I wonder where you" AHHHHHHHHHHH. Couldn't reconstruct it, couldn't even bear to try. Saturday went better. Good parts: Dinner with MOPS group, Improv featuring Kevin Smith and Seth Rogan. Bad parts: waiting in freezing temps 1/2 hour past the time the show was supposed to start (although we enjoyed the other couples around us), the rude people who talked through much of the show and losing an hour's sleep. Sunday was fine. Monday - um, normal. And today. It's the Husband's birthday. We had dinner at Red Robin (yummy!) and Eddie fell asleep in the car on the way home. I went to MOPS, for the first time in a month due to snow cancellations. We're going to have tea and watch TV and chill. See you tomorrow.

Jami's Head Explodes

This afternoon I had a headache. Not your regular throbbing variety, but one of those ones where you begin to worry that your brain might be trying to escape through your eyes. And of course, I have a two-year-old, which is not conducive to headache reduction. Even though my little boy has recently decided he doesn't need a nap, I decided he needed one today. Or at least some quiet time alone in his crib while mommy took a handful of Aleve and a nap. I got him a cup of milk, and over the noise of the evil elf hitting the inside my head with the sledgehammer, explained to him that I'd put whatever Baby Einstein that he wanted in, and that he had to sit quietly and watch it because mommy needed to take a nap right now. I started the one he chose (Language Nursery) and rocked him while the familiar caterpillar crawled across the screen before the opening of the show. Then the video started and the normally soothing voice started speaking gibberish. Now, if you're a normal person, you'd probably figure out what was going on. But, since I'm me and was partially incapacitated as well, I immediately realized: I must have had a stroke. Being contingency girl, I know what to do. I turn to the mirror and smile, both sides are equal, whew. I can raise both my hands over my head, individually and together. I say to Eddie "Say 'I love Mickey Mouse!'" Eddie, annoyed, but a good boy, complies. I can see out of both eyes. Hmm, not a stroke, then. At which point the DVD voice switches to German, which I recognize. And it occurs to me that a video called Language Nursery might be an introduction to other languages, which of course, it is. It's just more proof that my brain doesn't work right. I did get a nap and my headache is gone. But it still doesn't think like everyone else's, I'm sure.

Jami is Concerned About Not-So Safe Auto

If you watch the TV, and I do, you've probably seen one of the many commercials for a company called Safe Auto. The basic idea here, is that they sell cheap insurance that covers you at the absolute minimum legal amount, and they don't care if you have bad credit or whatnot. This is fine. You found a niche and poor people can drive legally. Yay for all. But lately, they have two new commercials that cause me some serious consternation. In the first one, people are running and diving out of the way of a car careening through a parking lot, as the driver bumps into various things and his passenger (wife?) cringes. The voice over is something along the lines of "Does your bad driving record precede you?" and goes on to explain how even if you've had a bunch of accidents, they'd still like to insure you. The second in this series is a younger looking woman who says "I've had a few accidents. Okay, more than a few. And some speeding tickets as well. But I need my car." And again with the "hey, if you're a crappy driver, we'd still like to write you a policy." No, Safe Auto. Bad! Bad Insurance Company!! Because that girl doesn't need her car, she needs to STOP SPEEDING AND CRASHING INTO THINGS. People with bad driving records, so bad that other insurance companies won't cover them, shouldn't be able to drive legally. Because you know what's out on the street that they might hit next? ME. And my baby. And my husband. You can make the argument that it would be so much worse if they drove (badly) without the insurance because then they'd hit you and not be able to pay and blah blah blah. That's a dumb argument. That's like saying that we should provide condoms to rapists because at least that way the victims will be a little more protected. If you just said "You can't compare driving without insurance to raping someone", you're wrong. Because a bad driver, who has been told they shouldn't be driving because they're so bad that no one will cover them and therefore it's illegal, could kill someone. Murder them as dead as a bullet to the brain and I don't think that's "not as bad". Crime is crime, folks. Just because you didn't mean it doesn't mean the victim pops back to life. So, Safe Auto, you want to help people who get into lots of wrecks keep driving, let me tell you this. You'd better pray hard that one of these idiots you're so keen to insure doesn't injure me and mine, or you're going to be paying more than my medical bills. Because that blood will be on your hands as well as the moron driver and I'll do everything I can to make sure you're held accountable. How funny is your crashing into things commercial then?

Jami Thinks 10 is Too Many

I spent several hours this morning alone with 10 kids under 6. Yup, 10 kids. Between the ages of 18 months and "almost 6". And I've decided, I don't want 10 kids. It's very loud. On the other hand, I did treat myself to a Snickers Charged. It's a Snickers bar, but with caffeine, B vitamins and something called taurine. According to Wikipedia, Taurine is:

Taurine is conjugated via its amino terminal group

with chenodeoxycholic acid and cholic acid to form the

bile salts sodium taurochenodeoxycholate and sodium

taurocholate. The low pKa (1.5) of taurine's sulfonic

acid group ensures that this moiety is negatively charged

in the pH ranges normally found in the intestinal tract and

thus improves the surfactant properties of the cholic acid conjugate.

I have no idea what that means. I am assuming there is some sort of theoretical health benefits. But whatever. The bar was yummy. I'm not the one to comment on how much of a caffeine kick it provided because I'm so addicted to it that it takes a metric ton before I start to notice the jitters. But I like B vitamins and I called it a great lunch.

So, my point is, don't have 10 children in 6 years. But if you do, at least get some Snickers.

Jami Warns You About Pittsburgh Streets

Don't get me wrong. I love Pittsburgh, and I have no desire to live anywhere else. But, just a like a person, when you love a city, there are things you might not love. Like the roads and street-plans. Pittsburgh's roads look like they were laid out by someone exceptionally drunk who had never heard the word "grid". Sure, you can blame some of this on the hills, but not all of it. A few of my pet peeves:

• The streets that are two-way, then one-way, then two-way again. What was the thinking here? "okay, at this light, this road is now one-way, uh, let's say this way. Then up here, let's say you can go both directions again. That makes total sense."
• The 5 major two-to-four lane roads that all feed into one bridge at the exact same place, and you have to get in the correct lane (out of 4) at full speed by the end of the bridge, or you'll go to the wrong place. It's not like you can turn around easily, either.
• The places where on street parking turns two lane streets into one lane at random intervals.
• The drivers who feel the need to slow down and genuflect before entering a tunnel. The entrance isn't going anywhere. You could (and I'm not recommending this) speed up, because they can't pull you over when you're in a tunnel, so just go. Why do you slow down??
• The potholes that are so large that my car might actually fit into them.

So there you have it. Your guide to the insane driving issues in Pittsburgh. Just remember - you can't get there from here.

Here's a little look at a typical Pittsburgh neighborhood. Keep in mind, some of these roads are one-way. You'll have to x out the bubble, I couldn't figure out how to not make it do that. Note the many loops and random, curving dead ends.

View Larger Map

Jami the Crazy-Person Mommy

I love MOPS (Mothers of Pre-Schoolers). I needed MOPS when I started being a full-time mommy because I really thought I was losing my mind until I got into a group of other mommies with little ones and discovered that it's supposed to feel like this. One question several of the moms I know ask is "What if I'm not being a good mom?" I've had a lot of jobs, and there are times in all of them, that I've known that I wasn't doing the very, very best 100% of myself excellent work that I could be doing. You know what I mean, you've done it, too. And it's one of the reasons I've always said that I'd never take a job where if I messed up, someone dies (doctor, police, air traffic controller). When you have a child, if you mess up - they might not die, but you can seriously screw up a kid, you know? One of my favorite MOPS moments was when one of the moms gathered up her courage and said "Uh, does anyone ever find themselves . . . . screaming like a maniac?" A long, awkward silence followed, then erupted into laughter. Because we all have. If you have a toddler and you've never snapped and shouted like a lunatic, you're either on serious drugs or a mute. Toddlers seem to be designed to make you lose whatever marbles you have left after surviving the baby-phase. So how do you know if you're a good mom? I think if you're asking the question, you're on the right track. If you feel bad after screaming "IF YOU GO NEAR THE DOG AGAIN I'M PUTTING ALL OF YOUR TOYS IN THE ATTIC AND YOU'LL NEVER SEE THEM AGAIN!", you're probably aware that you sounded nuts and that's not great. It's not that you never yell, because no one can live up to that. It's that you know it's wrong, you apologize to your child and you try really hard to do it as little as humanly possible. In my opinion, it's when you're sure that everything you do is right and it's your kid's fault that you holler all the time and cuss them out, that's when you're not being a good mom. It's the asking that answers the question.