According to my overview, I have several Russian readers. What up, Commies!! Seriously, it's weird to know someone in a foreign land might have stumbled upon this tiny blog and read it. Of course, I oticed most of my foreign audience checked out my entry for "Cameltoe Etiquette". Not what you thought it would be, huh, Pervs.
My little sweet lady is turning 4 soon. I'm pretty excited for her. I remember being 4. I proclaimed that the best year of my life was when I was 4 (I think I was 6 at the time). She's having a bouncy castle party. If all the RSVP's show up, we'll have 17 kids. Just my luck we'll have a few walk-ins. I don't mind that, but I want to have enough food, favors and such.
Which brings me to the question of the year: why don't people RSVP? We're having the party at an establishment which charges by the head count. This isn't a backyard BBQ. Plus, a friend is making personalized cups for the favors. I had 20 made; 17 have names and 3 are blank for any stragglers. Seriously, Moms, you can't text, call or email a simple "yes" or "no"? If you don't show: no biggie, but what's with this bullshit of not RSVPing and *still* showing up? What the?! If you RSVP "yes" and don't show, I totally understand that stuff happens which might prevent your attendance, but just showing up on a whim is BS.
Now I have a headache. There's a storm brewing outside. I can feel the pressure in my sinuses. Today, I will be fretting about Katie's party as well as trying to keep my headache in check. To my Russian friends, sorry..no cameltoe in this one either. Suckas!!
Friday, August 24, 2012
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Sleep, you elusive little minx
I should be sleeping. I always complain "I'm so tired" "I need more sleep" "why aren't I sleeping THIS VERY MINUTE??" Tonight, I have no one to blame for my lack of shut eye and *that* sucks. I demand a scapegoat!
I'm having "Mommy Issues" right now. I had to take Sam to the doc's because he jammed a Q-Tip in his ear. It's oozing blood. The nurse was not moved by the sight of dried blood in my little man's ear. We still made an appointment, but you could cut her boredom with a knife. I wish it were contagious. It's not. I was flipping out. Standard Mommy practice, I guess.
Then, after I got his meds, I got to come home to a split lip. Sam fell on something or something (as my hubby explained it). I've seen enough of my child's blood, thank you. Sam calmed down after a while, we administered the medicine as directed by the Russian pharmacist who worked at Walmart down the street. He looks like Vladimir Putin. He, too, was bored with my questions as to how this medicine will affect my small boy. The hubby told me I put too many drops in Sam's ear. Big sigh from me; it's irrational for me to feel like my mommyness is being questioned, but I do.
Sam pulled some wooden shelves into himself while I was in the bathroom. Did I mention that I'm racked with guilt because in the last 3 weeks Sam has suffered every major kid accident there is? I had just read about kids suffocating under fallen furniture and boom! I go to poop and my kid gets trapped under fallen furniture! I thank God, Buddah, Allah, whoever the fuck is up there for allowing me to hear that thump and muffled cry. It wasn't a loud crash like one would expect. It was a "thump" with whimpers. If I had the fan on, I would have missed it. Sheesh...
I'm thinking I realize why I'm not sleeping. It's not the overly-salty Applebee's food (why DO I go there?!). It's not because I'm about to invent the bestest, fastest, smartest, thingamajiggy out there. I just feel like a terrible Mom. Sucks.
Sam sliced his head open on the coffee table. For a split second, before the tears, I looked at him and saw his skull. His skull. We both blew up in tears. That was a trip to the ER. The kindly nurse gave us a teddy bear while the doc berated an apparently drunk guy who was trying to get admitted for free room, food, attention. "I've got a baby in the next bed with his head sliced open and I have to do this rediculous dance with you, sir!! You are sapping our resources, GO HOME, SOBER UP". I wish those two could follow me everywhere and care for my kid. They gave a shit.
Boys will be boys, I'm told. Boys will break your heart. Boys will leave the toilet seat up. All this is supposed to make me feel better. It's 0210. I'm still thinking of ways to feel better. Sleep would be a step. I always feel better after some sleep...
I'm having "Mommy Issues" right now. I had to take Sam to the doc's because he jammed a Q-Tip in his ear. It's oozing blood. The nurse was not moved by the sight of dried blood in my little man's ear. We still made an appointment, but you could cut her boredom with a knife. I wish it were contagious. It's not. I was flipping out. Standard Mommy practice, I guess.
Then, after I got his meds, I got to come home to a split lip. Sam fell on something or something (as my hubby explained it). I've seen enough of my child's blood, thank you. Sam calmed down after a while, we administered the medicine as directed by the Russian pharmacist who worked at Walmart down the street. He looks like Vladimir Putin. He, too, was bored with my questions as to how this medicine will affect my small boy. The hubby told me I put too many drops in Sam's ear. Big sigh from me; it's irrational for me to feel like my mommyness is being questioned, but I do.
Sam pulled some wooden shelves into himself while I was in the bathroom. Did I mention that I'm racked with guilt because in the last 3 weeks Sam has suffered every major kid accident there is? I had just read about kids suffocating under fallen furniture and boom! I go to poop and my kid gets trapped under fallen furniture! I thank God, Buddah, Allah, whoever the fuck is up there for allowing me to hear that thump and muffled cry. It wasn't a loud crash like one would expect. It was a "thump" with whimpers. If I had the fan on, I would have missed it. Sheesh...
I'm thinking I realize why I'm not sleeping. It's not the overly-salty Applebee's food (why DO I go there?!). It's not because I'm about to invent the bestest, fastest, smartest, thingamajiggy out there. I just feel like a terrible Mom. Sucks.
Sam sliced his head open on the coffee table. For a split second, before the tears, I looked at him and saw his skull. His skull. We both blew up in tears. That was a trip to the ER. The kindly nurse gave us a teddy bear while the doc berated an apparently drunk guy who was trying to get admitted for free room, food, attention. "I've got a baby in the next bed with his head sliced open and I have to do this rediculous dance with you, sir!! You are sapping our resources, GO HOME, SOBER UP". I wish those two could follow me everywhere and care for my kid. They gave a shit.
Boys will be boys, I'm told. Boys will break your heart. Boys will leave the toilet seat up. All this is supposed to make me feel better. It's 0210. I'm still thinking of ways to feel better. Sleep would be a step. I always feel better after some sleep...
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
I laugh in your face!
We keep the crap diapers outside on the deck in a container. This protects the house from the everlasting scent of shit. Of course, come garbage day, this renders our deck useless as it smells like cooking piles of kid feces. With the weather being in the 100's, we don't mind.
Last night, some enterprising animal made the trek up the stairs to tear into our dirty diaper container. Image his surprise to find nothing tasty to eat; just poo diaper on top of poo diaper. I say "his" because I'm convinced a female would have stopped digging after the first 2 or 3 shit bombs. Foraging Animal: I laugh in your face!
While driving home, the tailgater behind me began to test my knowledge of sign language. I know what that finger means, sir, and understand your frustration. I hate doing the speed limit on a busy road in a school zone. But, I'm unemployed and not about to fill the City's coffers with my speeding ticket fine. Just as I though he was going to blow up, I heard sirens. This was my chance! I'll pull over, let the ass pass and all will be well in Leavenworth. I pulled over; I am a dutiful citizen, you know. He pulled over. I saw lights, heard sirens...where is this emergency vehicle. Oh, it's behind the tailgating ass. "Hello, officer, and thank you!" I sing out as I drive off. Mr. Ass Tailgator: I laugh in your face!
I used an obscene amount of coupons at the store. Not crazy-coupon-lady obscene, but every item on sale plus a coupon kind of obscene. I hardly ever strike it rich like this. Recession: I laugh in your face!
My red beans and rice kicked ass. Hunger: I laugh in your face.
Oh, laughter...you are the best medicine.
Last night, some enterprising animal made the trek up the stairs to tear into our dirty diaper container. Image his surprise to find nothing tasty to eat; just poo diaper on top of poo diaper. I say "his" because I'm convinced a female would have stopped digging after the first 2 or 3 shit bombs. Foraging Animal: I laugh in your face!
While driving home, the tailgater behind me began to test my knowledge of sign language. I know what that finger means, sir, and understand your frustration. I hate doing the speed limit on a busy road in a school zone. But, I'm unemployed and not about to fill the City's coffers with my speeding ticket fine. Just as I though he was going to blow up, I heard sirens. This was my chance! I'll pull over, let the ass pass and all will be well in Leavenworth. I pulled over; I am a dutiful citizen, you know. He pulled over. I saw lights, heard sirens...where is this emergency vehicle. Oh, it's behind the tailgating ass. "Hello, officer, and thank you!" I sing out as I drive off. Mr. Ass Tailgator: I laugh in your face!
I used an obscene amount of coupons at the store. Not crazy-coupon-lady obscene, but every item on sale plus a coupon kind of obscene. I hardly ever strike it rich like this. Recession: I laugh in your face!
My red beans and rice kicked ass. Hunger: I laugh in your face.
Oh, laughter...you are the best medicine.
Monday, August 13, 2012
In the end, only kindness matters
Yes, I quoted Jewel. It's a terrible boring song, but that line has always stuck with me. It's also ironic because I think of the song in less-than-kind terms; however, I do like that lyric a lot.
We all have a ghost or two who haunt us from our past. While I have no regrets or excuses for the things I've done, I also feel a small pinch every so often when I think about certain times, people, places and things. That "pinch" revisited me the other day.
She was the meanest girl in the school. She just said mean things to everyone. She bullied without hesitation. If someone was being picked on by another student, she'd happily join in. I was one of her "marks".
"Are you a lesbian?"
She asked before History class. I glanced toward the teacher. He was in the hallway, joking around with other mug-carrying teachers (I suspect there was more than coffee in there). No save for me.
"I'm not sayin' nothing, I'm just curious"
I heard the snickers as my face burned red-hot. Fucking double-negative to boot. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"No" I'd say as nonchalantly as possible. You show this girl weakness, she'll pounce...all goddamn 68 lbs of her coming to you at full force. I opened my book and started to scribble notes. When's that bell gonna ring?! Shouldn't class have started an hour ago?
"You look like a lesbian. Your clothes are lesbian. You're fat, too"
I don't remember what brought this on. I think it had to do with my ignoring her request to copy my homework. For nearly 5 minutes she taunted me ("helllllooo!? I'm talking to you, dummy!") Others laughed; one part their stupid juvenile sense of humor and the other part relief that they would not bear the brunt of her forked tongue. she turned to her friends, comfortable in the fact that she sliced me down. Yep, it was true. She did.
I know for a fact I could destroy her. Hell, I was fat, but strong, too. I've been in fistfights before. But this girl, this mean girl was different. She was part of the popular crowd. She battled anorexia and was losing, but no one talked about it. I knew I could hit her once and drop her to the floor. But, I also knew everyone of those popular kids would ensure I lived in misery for the rest of my days. When you're in high school, those days never seem like they'll end. I knew if I dropped her, I could hurt her more than I intended.
Instead, I sat there in my size 14 generic jeans topped with a scratchy flannel shirt and took it. It wasn't the first time and, sadly, not the last. "Where DO you get clothes like that? Is it, like, something your MOM is making you wear?"
20 years later, I get a friend request from the meanest girl ever. I was shocked. Instantly, I remember all the lesbian taunts, the "you're ugly"s and the fat jokes. This meanest girl ever seemed to have forgotten. I haven't. Even when I was fit, running a marathon and having several men call me for a date, I always felt a little insecure. Damn you, Facebook. Damn you HARD.
I figured I had grown up. I let the request sit for a day or two and then accepted. You gotta look at the dragon to slay it, right?
Instantly, my newsfeed was flooded with "broken angel" pictures and "don't judge me until you've walked a mile in my shoes" kind of bullshit. Great. Song lyrics and music started to show up. Stupid lyrics that made me laugh. Crappy songs that I always change the channel on the radio once they come on.
Then, there it was. A vent. The meanest girl in the world had no money for clothes or even basic baby care. The meanest girl in the world wasn't sure she would have a house for much longer. The meanest girl in the world blamed a lot of other people, but hey...it's a vent. We're allowed to do that.
I sat back. I remembered why I wore the clothes I did. My dad was a victim of the Air Force Reduction In Force (RIF)* and had to get out in like a month. He took a low-paying job just so we could survive. Mom, my stay-at-home Mommy, went to work, too. We were barely making ends meet. We could have gone on government assistance, but my parents made it work. We didn't have the best things but we DID have each other and the basics. These basics are what this mean girl made fun of me about day in and day out. Now, here she was: without the basics, blaming everyone for it.
I knew what I could do. I asked what size diapers her baby was in. We're upgrading Sam to Pull Ups, she could have our left overs; same goes with his old clothes. She said thanks and accepted my offer.
I could have laughed in this girl's face (well, her profile on Facebook). Karma, bitch! You don't get ahead when you're the meanest person in the world. Instead, I will try to help. I hope to bury some of my demons along with it. But, more importantly, I hope to help her kids escape the humiliation that their mom visited on me on almost a weekly occasion. I'm 36 and I still hear the laughter and my face still burns. I remember hoping that she would get her comeuppance when the time comes. Seems so childish in light of the situation. No one deserves this and I cannot visit the sins of the mother onto her children.
Like the lyric says: "in the end, only kindness matters".
We all have a ghost or two who haunt us from our past. While I have no regrets or excuses for the things I've done, I also feel a small pinch every so often when I think about certain times, people, places and things. That "pinch" revisited me the other day.
She was the meanest girl in the school. She just said mean things to everyone. She bullied without hesitation. If someone was being picked on by another student, she'd happily join in. I was one of her "marks".
"Are you a lesbian?"
She asked before History class. I glanced toward the teacher. He was in the hallway, joking around with other mug-carrying teachers (I suspect there was more than coffee in there). No save for me.
"I'm not sayin' nothing, I'm just curious"
I heard the snickers as my face burned red-hot. Fucking double-negative to boot. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"No" I'd say as nonchalantly as possible. You show this girl weakness, she'll pounce...all goddamn 68 lbs of her coming to you at full force. I opened my book and started to scribble notes. When's that bell gonna ring?! Shouldn't class have started an hour ago?
"You look like a lesbian. Your clothes are lesbian. You're fat, too"
I don't remember what brought this on. I think it had to do with my ignoring her request to copy my homework. For nearly 5 minutes she taunted me ("helllllooo!? I'm talking to you, dummy!") Others laughed; one part their stupid juvenile sense of humor and the other part relief that they would not bear the brunt of her forked tongue. she turned to her friends, comfortable in the fact that she sliced me down. Yep, it was true. She did.
I know for a fact I could destroy her. Hell, I was fat, but strong, too. I've been in fistfights before. But this girl, this mean girl was different. She was part of the popular crowd. She battled anorexia and was losing, but no one talked about it. I knew I could hit her once and drop her to the floor. But, I also knew everyone of those popular kids would ensure I lived in misery for the rest of my days. When you're in high school, those days never seem like they'll end. I knew if I dropped her, I could hurt her more than I intended.
Instead, I sat there in my size 14 generic jeans topped with a scratchy flannel shirt and took it. It wasn't the first time and, sadly, not the last. "Where DO you get clothes like that? Is it, like, something your MOM is making you wear?"
20 years later, I get a friend request from the meanest girl ever. I was shocked. Instantly, I remember all the lesbian taunts, the "you're ugly"s and the fat jokes. This meanest girl ever seemed to have forgotten. I haven't. Even when I was fit, running a marathon and having several men call me for a date, I always felt a little insecure. Damn you, Facebook. Damn you HARD.
I figured I had grown up. I let the request sit for a day or two and then accepted. You gotta look at the dragon to slay it, right?
Instantly, my newsfeed was flooded with "broken angel" pictures and "don't judge me until you've walked a mile in my shoes" kind of bullshit. Great. Song lyrics and music started to show up. Stupid lyrics that made me laugh. Crappy songs that I always change the channel on the radio once they come on.
Then, there it was. A vent. The meanest girl in the world had no money for clothes or even basic baby care. The meanest girl in the world wasn't sure she would have a house for much longer. The meanest girl in the world blamed a lot of other people, but hey...it's a vent. We're allowed to do that.
I sat back. I remembered why I wore the clothes I did. My dad was a victim of the Air Force Reduction In Force (RIF)* and had to get out in like a month. He took a low-paying job just so we could survive. Mom, my stay-at-home Mommy, went to work, too. We were barely making ends meet. We could have gone on government assistance, but my parents made it work. We didn't have the best things but we DID have each other and the basics. These basics are what this mean girl made fun of me about day in and day out. Now, here she was: without the basics, blaming everyone for it.
I knew what I could do. I asked what size diapers her baby was in. We're upgrading Sam to Pull Ups, she could have our left overs; same goes with his old clothes. She said thanks and accepted my offer.
I could have laughed in this girl's face (well, her profile on Facebook). Karma, bitch! You don't get ahead when you're the meanest person in the world. Instead, I will try to help. I hope to bury some of my demons along with it. But, more importantly, I hope to help her kids escape the humiliation that their mom visited on me on almost a weekly occasion. I'm 36 and I still hear the laughter and my face still burns. I remember hoping that she would get her comeuppance when the time comes. Seems so childish in light of the situation. No one deserves this and I cannot visit the sins of the mother onto her children.
Like the lyric says: "in the end, only kindness matters".
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Wait a sec, I've been here before...
Awesome. 6 months (ish) later, I come back here. Lots happened in those months. The hub came back from his deployment. We moved from Charleston to Kansas for my hubby's new gig. I managed to stay the same; my workouts and diet took a huge hit in these months. I'm glad I kept the weight I already lost in San Antonio off, but not one single ounce more came off my chubby frame.
Kansas is nothing like I thought it would be. It's rather charming, with a huge helping of "Small Town Friendly" on the side. Hub's schedule slowed down dramatically. He's actually here when the kids are awake!!
Standard life plan: gotta drop this baby fat! this time, I've enlisted the help of a few apps on my iPhone. "Lose It" and Nike+ have been instrumental in me dragging my jiggle out the door. If I follow the plan, I will lose the weight by 26 Feb, 2013. so help me Christ if the world ends on 12 Dec!
The kids are growing like weeds. Katie is rocking in preschool. Sam is still my little stay-at-home dude. I wanted to put him in daycare (for socialization) but nowhere accepts kids his age. Goofy. I wanted to get a part-time job. Looks like I'll be a stay-at-home broad for at least another year. I'm not complaining. These years at-home have been good to me. I saw every one of the kids' milestones and got to enjoy their little quirks.
That's what I've been up to these last few months. In a nutshell: nothing much. I could have just said that and made this a single sentance entry, but what's fun about that?
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